In one of previous posts, I shared a poem about learning to trust in the unknown, finding comfort in the unanswered questions I have. A lot of my work is more-so just documenting my understanding of my experience here. I have been obsessed with analyzing life, myself, and people. These poems serve as proof to myself that I am learning, that I am growing.
I made this painting after I wrote the poem. I’m not sure how other artists do it, but it was seconds after I wrote it. When something inspires me, or moves me any which way, it’s so physical. Many of my friends have asked me why I make art and I don’t really know why. But I do know it has something to do with that feeling. It’s so potent, so non-ignorable when it’s true. It often reminds me of that feeling before you throw up, but minus the nausea (most times). It’s just an insane urge to expel and to express, and to get rid of whatever it is that I’m feeling. My art is my vomit. <3.
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