As uneasy as it is to understand, my worst fears are associated with my home. My definition of home isn’t the typical one of ‘a place where I live in, with my family’. To me, anything that I can associate with hope becomes my home. For example, the special people in my life, my aspirations and most importantly God. I often refer to Jesus as my home. When I wrote this piece my home felt like it was hanging in the balance; I tried to hold on to everything with my hands and heart but it was slipping so fast.
The colour pencil drawing, as usual, is a reflection of my state of mind. I haven’t made her look utterly destitute, so I guess that even in my state of confusion and strife, I still remain hopeful that things will work out. Sometimes we are forced into paths that we couldn’t predict but wished we could. However, even if we could predict some of these things, it does not necessarily mean that we would have been able to stop them. Not even when we have the entire force of a supernatural deity on our side. I think the important thing is learning; most things happen so that we can learn from them and come out newly formed. God wants us to grow, and how he chooses to make that happen is entirely up to him, but I think that we have a say concerning how long any unpleasant situation persists.
The painting was inspired by my peaceful state of mind, I used mostly pastel colours, which is a first for me. I was mainly thinking about what it really meant to be strong. Drawing from my experiences, I think that true strength is accepting the people that genuinely want to help us. True strength is having the humility to believe and the willingness to grow. True strength is holding a mirror to our image every now and then.
I think it is wrong when people say ‘true strength comes from within’. It is implausible to suggest that the origin of strength is ‘within’ when strength is not an intrinsic value. Strength does not come from ‘within’ it is just formed there. When we are born, we are born weak, vulnerable and dependent. We have our individual characteristics that make us different and react in different ways to certain situations. However, it is our experiences that form and develop us; our experiences trigger the fight or flight notion in our minds. Our experiences may be caused by the natural order of things, they may be self-inflicted or caused by others. But we can only develop strength when we make the most out of our experiences by appreciating them for what they have to teach us and appreciating the available help. We can only develop strength when we stop indulging in isolated thinking and self-pity.
I struggled with writing. I didn’t know if I wanted to do it in the first or third person. Monster is technically a Black Sketchbook piece, I think it was the ninth or tenth. It explores repentance and the act of forgiving one’s self, which I guess is an essential topic, because not a lot of people are aware that it is possible to hold a grudge against themselves. I sketched Monster 2 years ago, but I could only really write about it now. It was the first time I ever used pure graphite on paper.
I don’t know why I knew this, but I knew that all repentant monsters stood in dark corners and said venomous things to themselves, in their own individual spaces.
They remembered the past:
“where we incited fear with one glance of our bloodshot eyes, where we ripped things and people to shreds even when they pleaded ‘please don’t’.
We resolved within ourselves that we did not deserve good things because we had destroyed so many good things in our time…
In our individual spaces, we remembered when we pleaded with the world not to turn us into monsters, we remember that we were too weak to not take the bait.
We remember when we decided that the world deserved to be ripped to pieces because we were the result of mankind’s selfishness and wickedness, that the world had ignited this everlasting flame that is now trying consuming it”.
I don’t know why I knew this, but I knew that all repentant monsters stood in dark corners and said hurtful things to themselves in their own individual spaces. I also know that as dysfunctional as the world is, it is sometimes more forgiving of itself than repentant monsters.
Wild Things is the first time I have used paint on canvas since summer. I find acrylic paint a lot harder to use than chalk and even oil paints; because it isn’t as obedient or flexible. But only acrylic paint could translate into this on canvas and the more I use it, the more I find new ways to deal with it. I think the beauty of this piece are her eyes, I think they are powerful and defiant but also dead. They are capable of telling the whole story.
Time and time again, I have told myself that…
I am a wild thing.
I will never be tamed.
I never want to be caged.
Wild things cannot be contained because they will eventually venture out.
Wild things cannot be owned because they have no regard for authority.
Their spirit remains uncrushed, defiant.
And you can see it in their eyes that they hate you.
Wild things can be loved.
But you shouldn’t ever love a wild thing.
It would shatter your heart and leave with half of the pieces.
However, no one obeys this solid rule.
They are continually disappointed when they find out that I slipped out through their fingers yet again .
And I, hurt because I never remember that it is in man’s nature to want to own wild things. Especially when he loved it.
So, in trying to avoid being hurt or caged, I created my own impenetrable fortress.
Wherein I was a merciless master, a ruthless warden and an obedient prisoner.
There was no escape, no matter where I went, I kept running into myself.
Hi guys, welcome to my art space. On here I will post stuff derived from my mind and created with my hands. Enjoy!