“ If there is no passion in your life, then have you really lived? "

There were forty seven of us. 

Forty seven of us on just five walls. 

It felt good to see my work up there and felt good to a part of something big, knowing that everyone had gathered there to share one thing in common. I stood there and looked around, proud of this little achievement of mine, a dream I wanted to reach for years now. All of a sudden, it became real. How do you cope with an emotion like that? How do you deal with how your heart feels when it's bursting at the seams? 

And now all I want is more. I want to feel more of that heavy heartbeat, feel the anxiety of how people reacted to my art, feel the adrenaline that I felt when I stood next to my work and feel how my cheeks felt from smiling all night.

Oh my, I tell you. 

That feeling.. that feeling that crept through my bones. It truly was something else 

and I can't wait for the day it comes to see me again. 

Thanks. No really.... Thanks.

Dear Universe,

You've played with my emotions these first two weeks of January, you really have.

Displacement. Inconveniences. Relief. Stress. Tears. Worry. Weakness. Pride. Love. Happiness. Confidence. Euphoria. Excitement. Sadness. Laughter. Warmth. Then of course messing with the little fella. That really wasn't cool. 

You see how you test me with all that you can possibly give me in just two weeks? If this isn't a black and white sign  of what you have in store for me then I guess I'm in for more surprises. But just know that I'm kinda emotionally tired already. What a way to pick at my feelings.  But don't get me wrong, I'm not mad. After all, you granted me an accomplishment. You granted me a goal that I achieved, you gave me determination, and you gave me a piece of something that I know is out there for me. It kinda rules out all the bad vibes you've been sending me. For the first time in years, I believe I got this. 

So please know that my thank yous have double meanings. Thanks for giving me a shit two weeks, I really didn't need it. But thanks for ending it with fulfillment. Now that was what I really needed. 

I get it. I do.

What do you think?  Reckon its time to give this girl a break? 

Just sayin'.

always, 

me

And all it takes is saying yes.

Remember her?
She came into my life over a year ago and I hid her under a shelf when I had no desire to finish.

Two weeks ago, I said yes to participating in an exhibit with 46 other artists.
And all of a sudden, she resurfaced. All of a sudden, I was inspired to finish her.
All of a sudden last years goal of exhibiting my work is happening.

Things turn around when you least expect it you know, they really do.  Sometimes I just need to give
the universe a little more credit. And sometimes, it's just taking that kick in the ass by someone who
believes in you and saying yes.

i see you smiling at me

 

I see you.

I know you are looking at me. I know you are waiting to be finished.

I can feel your unfinished face looking at me, quietly whispering in my ear, pleading to shade in your forehead, shade in your hair.

But see, for some reason, I can't get there. Not yet that is. For some reason I started you and left you incomplete. 

But in time, you will have that forehead and you will have your hair. In time, you will be framed and many more of you will surface.

Just give me time.

.a Utopian in East London.

There is this pleading voice echoing in my head, an urge and rush of adrenaline. It had been lingering and hovering over me these past few weeks and I want to share.

I have been thinking about my last year in university. The previous years had already been a challenge and the last year had raised its stakes. I was scared for what would happen after, yet confident that my creativity would take me somewhere.  I walked with my head held up high, after two years of constructive criticism, and somewhat berating as well, I decided to finish the year without tears. After all, I was showing them who I was as an artist, who I was as a designer. I had my brave boots on and succumbed to their challenges. There was a world that I created where the design strategies were mine and my voice constantly backfired and exploded with reasoning and purpose. My fingers worked with my imagination and I became the character I created, that old Utopian, a wanderer walking down the paths of East London. Needless to say, it ended up as the best digital concept work I have ever done. So now two years have passed, and the folder that holds these designs are constantly viewed. I remember how creatively passionate I was, where sleepless nights were not a chore but a genuine commitment to my craft.

For so long, inspiration has always come from other people, other artists and designers, but today I want to inspire myself. I want to believe that the person who created that world before still exists. I want to remember that I can do this, I would like to be brave again and believe that my art matters.

Because it does. My art matters. It is part of who I am.

.and the fingers found my paints.

Day twenty four.
Behind on the photography and this is why.

Life should be about spontaneity.
It should be about not having to think and ponder about things too much.
Thoughts turn into worries and then worries turn into doubts.
Empty canvases have been sitting in the spare room for months.
And for months I have tried to convince myself that they needed to be filled.
And for months I have doubted my ideas.
Then in one moment, I felt the urge. No questions were asked, my brush just headed straight to this little piece of canvas paper.
Nothing with hidden meanings, no secret depth of reasoning in the process. Just my pencil, paints and paper.

Simplicity. Black and white.

An emotional abstraction where perhaps it is only I who can feel the emotions within the strokes, but nevertheless, it is a piece of me. A piece of me I am unbelieveably sharing freely, another layer that I seem to be unravelling.

Now I believe that my tendency to overthink prevents my ability to create, 
and perhaps simplicity (and courage) is all I have ever needed.

.life drawing for rusty beginners.

I remember how my fingers flowed with willow charcoal sticks. My hands took me through journeys on paper. Ten weeks straight of pure life drawing. I sat in my “life drawing for rusty beginners for ten whole weeks, ten weeks immersed in studying this bodies.  I remember sitting impatiently for the work day to end so I could rush to my evening classes. I remember feeling so free.
I am still on a desperate search of life drawing classes. I wish I knew more about the art scene here and I wish it was as easy as it was in London. Sometimes I feel like my need to be part of an “art community” is superficial. Why do I need this to be the artist I want to be?  And why am I trying to justify the fact that in order to be an artist I must be “in the scene”?  You see, I live for inspiration. Inspiration allows me to create and other artists who surround me allow me to grasp and soak in the inspiration. But perhaps I must first learn that inspiration can come from within, and I myself can be my own inspiration.