every now and then, someone will point me out and say i am the artistic girl. my initial response is to distract from my blushing face with a smile and a shake of my head. because, seriously, i've never seen myself as much of an artist. artistic is a title reserved for people who have paintings hung on museum walls, noted photographers who travel the country, writers whose stories are published and become top sellers. my drawings hang on clothespins and a piece of twine in my room, my photos are simply shared with the circles of people around me, my essays and freewritings have never reached beyond the composition of notebooks and homework assignments. me, an artist? never did i think such a name could hold true to who i am.
taking this to a basic definition gave me a tiny revelation. art; a creation meant to communicate the mind and inner self. every stroke of lead from the pencil is guided by my hand which holds it. artist. the angles i choose, the amount of light i allow are a collaboration of the things i want my lens to capture. the things which make up a photograph. photographer. words formulate and stir inside my mind, i string them together to bring thoughts and feelings and stories onto paper. writer.
i believe that art is not limited. if ones perspective is open, one will see that everything is art. the things done and said are merely attempts and tries to express. art. drawing, photography, and writing are much more than just hobbies to me. they are my outlets of expression. my voices to speak out. my talents and gifts. this being said, the world is the canvas and i am the tool. the way in which i live my life is art.
and my purpose is to create something beautiful, something that will reflect the beauty of the Artist.
