Lost and Found

As of recently, I have figured out the reason for why I produce the kinds of art works that I do. I started I guess, my relationship with art 3 years ago, middle of my freshman year of college. I also began to discover my sense of self and who I wanted to be identified as for the years to come. I took up art as a hobby. Art set my soul on fire in a way no romance I’d had could compare to. It was the first companion that truly listened to me. It heard my words translated through the strokes of my brush onto canvas. When I was done painting physically while simultaneously being in the mental state of self-reflection being aloof from the 3D world, I questioned who I was. The things and artists I knew of were your basic obvious “I’ve been to the MoMA once” knowledge of artists you are taught; Monet, Van Gogh, Warhol etc. I realized that a lot of these artistic “micro” lessons I was learning through trial and errors with different techniques in my artistic pursuits were actually just lessons that reflected macro lessons we see in our everyday life. It’s almost like the idea of you yourself being in essence, a canvas; brand new and for the most part, not too many defaults. Yet just like a child, this unwrapped new canvas can only go so long in a messy studio or universe, before it gets a little banged up. Learning to not whine too long over the splash of ultramarine blue ink onto this canvas on accident, but instead, take a deep breath and thank the universe for taking the first step (challenge) you must face in order to create this unique piece of art, that again, is your “life.” A life without any challenges faced is in my opinion, quiet boring. That is basically just white canvas. Put yourself onto canvas and begin to question what you did with what Bob, my frienemy (long story) calls “happy little accidents.” What did you do given the circumstances that have arisen on your journey and on your paper. Did I turn it into something cool? Do you regret it? Why? I learned that the secret is everyone is made up of different…well different everything. The key is showing that unique sense of individuality off because it inspires others to find, or at least question themselves as well. Even if it is “why is this hanging up here?! I could’ve done this!!!” Well that’s not your painting, your reflection of your inner world, so I submit sir (or madam) that you could not of done that.

Art is an expression of oneself. It is a visually autobiographical documentation of a personal once-in-a-lifetime idea, thought, feeling that conjures together a unique aesthetic. I guess you could say I have an aesthetic. The word “style” to me seems too straight laced and boxed in. Like style makes me think of those HGTV/TLC small closet challenge where you can only buy like 15 clothing items and style it 245 different ways. “Aesthetic” is in my eyes this infinitely expanding mood board or Pinterest account that just is like “if you like it, put it up there. I don’t care if its your choice of corn or flour tortillas or if you are willing to go through with that the gold hoops or the silver. Aesthetics are a reflection of one’s personality and choices. Aesthetic is my personal way of thinking and preferences. It’s a reflection of my choices between yes and no, right and wrong, black or white etc. Do I buy the candle? Yes I love that smell. Now lavender is incorporated into my aesthetic. Do I buy the crazy hat? Yes it’s plaid and I love plaid. Which is all meshed together in my home or onto my newest artistic and creative project. My oil works reflect my longer lingering inner thoughts that, while taking time to process information and situations on the past, and it was reflected to me through my works, myself in a more representational way. My abstract reflects my emotional side. Big gestures with long contemplation. I saw who I was in a way I’d never seen before. You know how they say “you never truly know what you look like to other people?” and it kind of bugs you? Well, it felt like i finally understood what people were seeing when they looked at me. Like I finally saw that my flaws meant jack diddly squat to the people that truly love you AND are the deserving ones of your energy. Maybe I just became apathetic to the question and found peace through that.

This is the good part. My art is about appreciation of the little things in life. How every mark does matter. I want to create work that reflects someone that took life like a champ. Like someone, who when everyone said “it’s not a good idea” you look back at them and say “No. It’s a great idea. It’s my idea. It’s me.”