realization of my departure, but you would forgive me and understand that death
kills more than one person with one arrow. It has been uneasy for me and my
emotions to fit In the right conceptual knowledge to create this artworks., then I
realized how the trail of insecurities lead to something so sensitive, hiding from
me but could make me alive. You see, I got tired. Tired of constantly sleeping
with a wet pillow, and waking up more lethargic than necessary, I was tired of
finding myself in depressions, denials and breakdowns. So I stood for myself, and
I started buying canvases, lots of them, hung them in the apartment and staring
at them deeply. At a point, it was as though I had ran mad, until I took that brush,
and well I stopped being sad.
50
My first exhibit held six months later at home, a little old warehouse on the
ground floor, I did not have a lot of friends but social media flourished my
publicity, so some of my pieces were sold and some took photos for reference, I
was delighted. Hopes were high and I got invited to a few events, it was beautiful
and I felt like I was strong again.
That was until one particular day, my artworks were out for an open exhibit, I
already painted a few more, a fairy cuisine, Portland trail and a bunch of other
beautiful pieces. Then it started raining, but I was not there, I went in to get my
phone for contact and the exhibit already ended so almost nobody was around.
My works were drenched in the rain by the time it dawned on me, and whatever I
took inside was a pure excuse for an Artwork. Torn apart was an understatement