One of the paintings I worked on last weekend - the lines far too raw and the brushstrokes too careless for my liking. Unpolished, and awkward as it is, it makes quite an accurate depiction of myself. I am a Work-in-Progress.
It is not the best, but it is how I want to present myself to others, as I am. I spend a lot of my time reading, it makes the second best form of escapism to traveling. In words there are worlds we find that do not exist, our universe gets a little bigger and more interesting when you explore it in reading. Our lives are made up of stories – the ones that do not belong to us, some discovered, some made up and those you live to tell.
I am learning to love my works a little more by sharing them with others and getting feedback. It is an unnerving thing to put yourself out there, it feels uncomfortable and narcissistic to a certain extend. I was never quite for the idea of having a 'blog' because most people set it up with a common intention in mind. I do it not because I think that I am amazing at what I am doing, but because every piece of work is a deliberate attempt to make something original, sharing them motivates me to make something better in my next try. It is also an exercise for me in learning to relinquish control because I am really my own worse critic.
For me, the documentation of these works encompass the effort in crafting my personal creative endeavor and writing my own story. I hope that I can one day look back and see how much closer I am to where I want to be. I am not hopeful that what I am doing would open any doors, but I just know that doing what you love is equally important and it might make the world a better place. You would then, have a story to tell and naturally find your place in the universe. After all, like how Muriel Rukeyser has put it "The universe is not made of atoms; it’s made of tiny stories." ☺