“Living like an artist allows you to unearth infinite new worlds in the tiniest drop of water... You look beyond what’s apparent, you push dusty old stories about who you are and what you like out of the way, you deconstruct the obvious and investigate the mysterious. It’s a morally agnostic position, ultimately: You stop viewing every action through the black and white lens of judgment and enter the scientist’s mind, peering through the microscope at vast legions of microbial demons or squinting through the telescope at a seemingly infinite sky, filthy with colorful celestial wonders. You open your mind, your heart, and your eyes as wide as they’ll go in order to take in the world in all of its ragged, wretched glory.”
I dreamt of being an artist. I had a voice inside me that told me I had something to express, but what? I spent most of my life as a designer, not exactly an artist. A more utilitarian version, still a creative and to translate beauty and taste to a medium. To me, safer than exposing my unconscious, which most true artists do. Design for me didn’t entirely feel natural (until working for myself), like a means to a paycheck end. I explored different mediums: fashion design, hotel design, furniture design, graphic design, everything you name it I’ve designed it. I tried many traditional artists’ mediums too, paint, illustration, watercolor, but it seemed it was also not a fit.
Then why did I continue to have this feeling I kept wondering, why am I not an artist yet? The more digging and exploring I did I came to this conclusion. I have been investigating each question wholeheartedly, acting on my instinct, wandering in dark parts of myself, testing, learning, growing. Maybe my medium isn’t a canvas, but the exploration and navigation of life itself.