I want to create a new everything, he said. And I’m not stating that as the beginning of a diatribe about classicism and the inequalities in our society and the no-one-gives-a-fuck about what I think the solution is. I want to create things then recreate them. Things that people can inhale through their minds and exhale through their dreams. I want to redefine shapes. Then I want to use them to create newer ones. Any form of artistic progression ever made has been pushed by every single person on the planet whether they realize it or not. We live in a world where aesthetics translate into emotions. A beautiful face, a stroke of paint, the architecture of a city, the color palettes in our homes. Everything. Every line, curve, empty space. Every single detail. It all affects how and what we feel. I’ve always believed that a triangle is the most honest of all shapes, it’s the only one that stands its ground. It’s the shape with the strongest presence, the most elegant, none of its edges point in the same direction, none of them are ever aesthetically the same. A triangle is the leader, it tells the rest which way to go, it stands at the top. It doesn’t follow the conversation, it creates it.
Our world is full of ceilings, rules, limits, guidelines, telling us how we need to do things. What the right way is. The purest form of genius is conceived in worlds without borders. The best way to fit the mold is to break it. I just want to feel the music scream louder when I draw outside the lines. I’m done with setting rules for myself to follow. I want to build the tallest building in the world just so i can scream from the top of it. I want to revolutionize everything from the tiniest pixel to the biggest canvas. Everything. A ten foot statue should be turned into twelve into fifteen-pushing-twenty. I want to keep pushing every little idea to the furthest impossible point. True innovation occurs when something preexistent is recreated differently. And that’s what I’m doing, I’m recreating the cool and making it surreal. I’m perfecting what we’re happy with to make us ecstatic. I’m converting comfort into the highest form of elation. I’m taking the amazing and making it extraordinary.
I’m terrified, he said as he poured himself another drink. Terrified to find the muse that’ll murder my inspiration. I know that sounds completely paradoxical, but my creativity is fueled by pain that can turn brick into ash. To the world, this may read like the first chapter of a cynical addict’s diatribe, but I promise it’s all part of finding the cheat sheet to happiness. They say that you can’t make anyone else happy unless you’re happy yourself but what if it’s the other way around? Call this a dark, fucked up fantasy but what if happiness comes after all the stabs, blows and wounds? What if genuine happiness comes from fulfilling it for someone else? Half my life has been a mind and body war of independence vs. dependance. I’ve been at the edge of the battlefield and back in a search for euphoria. But now I just want to utilize that struggle and translate it into complete elation, someone else’s elation.
I’m a creator in an art form that gives people the ability to express themselves, something that’ll give anyone the power to scream without having to breathe a single word. With every pitch black canvas, comes the ability to ignite anything and create something new. I’m just afraid to lose it all, the pain that is. The masochism is all in being afraid to heal. All I’m doing is using the fuck ups to correct the future, not expecting the future to correct my fuck ups. But now I just feel like I’m watching a cigarette slowly burn at my fingertips and can’t seem to let it go. I know none of this makes complete sense but I just want to know if it’s all part of the search. The search for you. Does this tunnel have anything at the other end of it or am I going to fall into emptiness, again? You’re going to have to walk through it, she said. Stand up and take yourself to the end. Every journey lies in a pool of fear, but your motivation to walk through is what will determine the strength of your backbone. Just remember not to run this time.
It’s confusing sometimes, he said as he poured himself half a drink. I’ve been caught in this weird limbo where everything is coming together at zero to sixty while I climb this cliff and yet still feel a huge gap to fill. I’m starting to feel distorted in a battle against all this noise. I mean, truly, I know what I need. I’ve always known, it’s just difficult to conceptualize. You know what I always wonder? Is it passion that fuels the pain or pain that fuels the passion? No really, think about it. Do our screams come from what we feel or do we scream because we’re feeling? I’ve just been sitting here, feeling everything in the world through my eyes and my biggest fear is to figure out the solution. The one question I know the response to yet never want to have answered. What if I take this leap and realize that the only thing that kept me going this whole time was the fear of happiness? The fear of the unknown. The idea of having something left untouched that could have the power to tear me to pieces, or even worse, make me feel victorious in a war against myself. In another life, I once heard that “the important part isn’t what you do, it’s how it makes you feel”. Fucking brilliant, I know. I said it. The irony is that I’ll take hypocrisy any day over actually listening to my own advice. It’s funny how that is. I mean, that’s what my art is all about. Teaching myself things that I don’t want to understand on my own. Seeing what my feelings look like. And trying to prove myself wrong every time. I’m living out of a glass half full, looking for the other half. But what if that emptiness is what keeps me afloat? What if fighting for air is the only thing that keeps me breathing? What if that’s the only muse in my creation? Emptiness only exists when you set a limit, she said. Without that, you’re just feeling in the gaps that you choose to fill.
It’s happening again, he said. I think. But this time it’s different. You know that feeling you get when something new just comes out of nowhere, fucking changes everything, and makes you think and do things that you thought you’d never do? It’s happening, I think. I mean I don’t know, call me insane or borderline cynical but as much as I love the idea of living life through a black and white lens, this new unsaturated view full of confusing shit is turning into a hate-love relationship, or the latter if I’m forced to cut out the bullshit. And as much as I’d love to follow in my own footsteps and send a numbed version of myself to the forefront to do all the fighting for me, it just doesn’t feel right this time. I’d love for it to be the same. I’d love to have it the easy way. I’d love to not have to mull over this shit that I pretend is completely meaningless even though I know it’s not. I mean at the end of the day it’s all for the art right? Whether or not we end up face down in a ditch or at the headline of a fairytale, it’s all about the inspiration and the journey. Right? I like to tell myself that I don’t give a shit all the time, and honestly I’m a prodigy at convincing everyone that it’s the truth, including myself. Sometimes. But really, the layer, the shell, the shield whatever you want to fucking call it, that thing I hide behind everyday, it’s all bullshit, it’s all an ideal, a perception, a protection I’ve built to push away anything and everything that I deem as threatening. And by doing that I’ve learned that the best things in life happen when you let your guard down and eliminate the filters. That’s what I always tell people. Just fucking go for it, as scary as that sounds. But as much as I’d bet my life that it’s the best thing to do and scream it from the top of the world, I’m a hypocrite in my own story because I’d never turn the page not knowing what lies on the other side of it. And this something that I’ve found can breathe, live, speak and sum it all it up in the blink of an eye. It’s you isn’t it? This is you. Or the start of you, or a part of you. Or something. But all of this, this is what the end of the journey looks like isn’t it? Or is supposed to look like anyway. I mean the real journey, the real adventure, not the pseudo self-created one I’ve set in front of myself as the result of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The real one that overpowers everything and that actually serves as the conclusion. The one that makes me feel like I’m not alone in this crazy mind of mine. It’s you isn’t it? You’re getting warmer, she said. A lot warmer.
I can feel my grip getting stronger, he said as he poured himself another drink. It’s so hard not to set the pencil down. Trying to write out everything I’m feeling, all the emotion, the pain of the dream and trying to hold onto all the pieces of the puzzle. I mean what I’m going for is the creation of a masterpiece, that’s all I want. I want something that drips with my sweat and blood, that actually makes people feel something, anything. I don’t even care if they love it or hate it, I just want them to feel something. The world makes us so fucking numb nowadays, with all these societal standards that we have to measure up to, that completely go against the basis of creativity. It’s all bullshit really. I want to make the rules, I want to be the one that sets the standards, that narrates the story of my own life, that dictates every chapter. I want to make all the rules so that I can break them all. If you think about it, diamonds are made by heating up the world’s darkest imperfection, and making it burn until it shines. And that’s when everyone wants it, once it’s all finished and perfect but no one gives a shit about the battle that came before it. That’s what bothers me, I’m here writing, drawing, living, building and thinking until the soul in my fingertips turns to blood and all of that will be set aside the second I’m done. I mean I know that the journey only exists for me, but the beautiful side of art is the process before the final touch and that’s always forgotten. I’m just here to create, and as much as I want it to change the world I’ll never truly know if it does until the day I stop thinking about it. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t in any way one of my whiskey-soaked diatribes where I bluntly tear apart society’s bullshit. It’s just that lately I’ve been feeling. Feeling things that I usually don’t and this love-hate relationship that I’m juggling is getting exhausting. I’m just looking for an answer, or at least the inspiration for an answer. Anything, I just want something. And what if you already have it? She said.
This experiment is panning out slowly, he said. And believe it or not, it’s actually working. It’s true when they say that you can be anything you want to be. No but really, nothing matters if you think about it, nothing at all aside from your willpower to tear apart anything that gets in your way. I’m not trying to sound like any sort of write-in-my-calendar-quote bullshit fortune cookie just to seem smart, it’s just insane how the right mix of ingredients can create anything. Anything in the world. So, who are you anyway? He asked as he poured himself another drink. That doesn’t matter, she said. Not for now. Just focus on the goal, straighten the arrows, tighten the ends, and make sure that they’re all pointing to one thing, and one thing only. Don’t get distracted. Drain out all of the noise from your life and focus on what you’re trying to tell the world. You’re on a mission, fighting a battle, filtering out all the useless shit and making all the mistakes so that you can tell the rights from the wrongs. Remember that you’re the author of this story, you’re the one writing the beginning and deciding how it ends. You’re onto something extraordinary and you don’t even know it yet. Just never forget to be yourself throughout every move, focus on you and what you truly are and not what you wish you were. Keep that heart by your side, keep it upside down, and keep it black.
I’m thousands of feet in the air on my way to NYC for fashion week, a trip I’ve done a countless number of times but today’s path marks a different meaning. I’m pursuing a passion project for the first time in my life that doesn’t just feel like my next career move but an actual journey that I get to live, breathe, feel, touch and narrate to the rest of the world. This time, I not only get to tell the story through words but through a visual that I can only see when my eyes close. I’m here to spill it all, the tears, sweat and blood that fuel the ideas that I’ve always wanted to conceptualize, and make it tangible for you to see. Starting at the head of my vision, I present to you the beginning of my story as a designer:
I’m getting closer every day, he said, as he poured himself another drink. It’s all coming together piece by piece, and every step of the way is making me feel like a newer, wiser, improved version of myself. It’s weird if you think about it, that yesterday I was a slightly different person and that tomorrow will bring the same effect and push me forward a little more. I’ll be closer to finding it, holding it, feeling, experiencing it, it, the it, the everything that I’m fighting for, what this is all about. I mean, this is what everyone asks for isn’t it? All of it, it’s what everyone wants, what everyone dreams of, what inspires us, what we aspire to have. It’s what we’ve always asked for. And I’m going to have it. You’re holding a diamond, she said, and you don’t even know it yet. You’re holding a key, a solution to the puzzle, an open door to everything. You’re holding it all in the palm of your hand and you can’t even see it. You know if you look at anything too close it’ll always remain dark and impossible to see. Take a step back every time you approach a wall so that you can see over it. You’re shooting for the stars, don’t give yourself a chance to fall. Excellence is not an option, you’re on the hunt for perfection. A perfection that you want, that you’re creating, one that’s going to live through your veins. This dream is your canvas and you’re painting it into reality.
The glare from the flashing lights are telling a story of a life previously so empty, so confined to a vision that was forever to be tainted by reality. It’s a beautiful thing, he said, to be so dedicated to following a dream and actually grasp the feelings you always imagined would exist when you crossed the finish line. The second it all starts, the second you see that still frame of everything you want, and conquer all the battles tossed at you along the way. It’s a beautiful thing, she said, to find someone to sincere, so passionate, so pure, with a natural glow that could turn anything to gold with the blink of an eye. I’ve always believed that the journey itself was the most beautiful part of a story. Having that feeling in your stomach, the fear, the excitement, the anxiety, the strength, the thirst to battle anything and everything in your way and make it all come true. That’s the true success. Being able to find something in this crazy world, powerful enough to make it all worth it. That’s what really matters. At the end of the day, you’ll never stop fighting for true passion. You can be at the top of the world with everyone looking up right at you and it’ll never feel like the end because something you truly love can never be concluded. The things that’ll shine the brightest won’t be felt further down the line, but are what you’re experiencing right now. The anticipation that makes your heart drop at every thought, that’s what it all comes down to and nothing else. Don’t ever forget that. It’s a journey not a goal and you’re living it right now, at this very instant, every second and every minute of every day.