Where to begin.
Maybe I should begin by saying that I write every day, but that all of my instincts, tarot readings, horoscopes, and friends have been in one way or another telling me that writing for the purpose of that writing being read is something I need to be doing. I'm not sure why, and I'm not sure how to do this.
I think maybe the way to get this going is to talk very bluntly about it all just to get it off my chest, if you don't mind. I've tried before to write regularly for a blog, and I can never keep it up because I get too shy, or I feel like it's too "off-topic" from my art and I want to be less complex for the internet. Less complex Instagram accounts do better. You've got to niche down, they say. So if I paint I should just paint and even writing "dilutes my brand."
But the most direct, impactful feedback I ever get on Instagram is on my captions, or on stories with exerpts from my own writing. And, the most cathartic, heart-lifting projects I have worked on personally also involve writing. My first zine, my solicited advice postcards. Even my landscapes have become more verbal. They are like sentences. I recently have started using the term "cerebral landscapes" to quickly describe my art, because all of my paintings grow out of writing, reading, and contemplation.
As I grow older and more into myself, my goals are to find more joy in my daily life, and to serve. I don't want to be in a vacuum holding up things that I made and explaining their value to people hoping that they buy them. I want this to be a conversation, and I want to provide value to others in their lives, value that they define.
I have been told over and over that my words are valuable to people. That they write them down, take screenshots, hang a note on their fridge. This is more humbling than I can express, and it is almost shame that I feel to embrace my apparent ability to speak to people in this kind of way. Even right now, I'm imagining posting this, having said that, and I imagine all the people rolling their eyes and scoffing at my self-importance.
These thoughts and feelings have kept me more publicly silent than the world seems to be telling me to be, so I'm going to try, again, here. Thank you for reading.