I’ve previously wrote about self expression, and I decided to write about my roots working with expression. In my experience, having an artist soul isn’t easy. Not that anyone’s life is easy, especially in countries fighting terrorism. But the thing about it is, the only life we fully know is our own. In my time at Columbia College Chicago, I had the privilege of conversing with fellow artists. I was exposed to many different backgrounds, in which I feel have inspired the artist in them. It seems that when individuals grow up sufferings or the sense of being alone, art comes to their life. At least that’s what happened to me.
My sophomore year of high school I was exposed to photography and writing. I fall fond of both instantly. With photography, I loved the sense of taking a small piece of film, and watching it grow into a masterpiece. At this time, it charged me. Even though I felt so small, l could still do something big. Writing on the other hand, was different. At this time I had no sense of communication, (which is something I’m still working on) but writing helped get words out. Writing gave me a way to release my deepest feelings.
You can say when it comes to my art, I have a dark side. I’ve grown to love this because it helps me learn about myself. I now see that even my family doesn’t see all of me. It’s as if there’s something in between us, and this disconnection comes from the bricks I built around me. This is my defense mechanism. No one gets close enough to hurt me, and it is up to me to change this.
I’ve learned, I won’t allow myself the privilege of getting close to anyone because the heartache I’ve seen. With childhood comes naivety of the real pain life can bare. When I was eight, my mother committed suicide. This left just my father and I broken. This is when I started building the wall I hide behind. My father’s way of coping was similar to mine, he emotionally closed himself off. Don’t get me wrong, I love my father more than anything, but material things were his way of communicating. Anytime I was struggling, I was given something. But we both played the game of hiding our pain, which led to missing out on relationships we needed. Knowing this now, I wish I wasn’t such an angry teenage brat.
The thing about it is, even though growing up wasn’t easy, I’m grateful to where it led me. If there was less grift in my childhood, I would be completely different. It took me years to accept this, and learn to enjoy my life for what it is. I can thank fashion. When I began sewing I realized just how much my mom impacted me. One of my first memories was of her teaching me how to make a pin cushion. I will always cherish this memory because it was the beginning of my future with fashion. Not only was I blessed with her creativity, but also her kind heart. These are gifts that will never disappear.
Fashion is leading me towards expressing myself to those closest me. It hasn’t been easy, but since focusing more on art I’ve started to diminish pieces of my wall. As I climb over bricks, I begin to accept the flaws I carry. My fear of opening myself stems from vulnerability, but I now see the beauty of being vulnerable. I’ll always fear intimacy, but now I won’t let that control me. I know I still have much to work on, but with art I have a whole different outlook. Art is my backbone. Everyday I spend with art, I become closer to myself. The more steps I take closer to myself, the more comfort I have to express myself to others. Fashion is my expression of feelings I can’t explain, flaws I’ve grown to love, and words I want the world to hear.