Art, for me, is where I can hold all my darkness

It is release, and it is gratitude, it is expression, and it is play

It is acceptance 

Of a feeling, it is saying this is here and it is real and it allows me to step forward, out of the shame, and into the space where  examination is possible - it is validation of emotions, it is truth, it is feeling

It is how I free myself of the burden. It is the glass shattered and the puzzle deconstructed. It is where the learning occurs.

It is also connection - light, the garden of eden. The space I can notice the beautifully mundane - a way to highlight appreciation, to notice the little things, to articulate ourselves in relation to others, ourselves in relation to our feeling. 

It is the dichotomy of each emotion - it is the reason I am able to walk lightly, it is the continued exploration into my mind - it is continued exploration into the minds of others. It is critical and it is malleable - it is every changing and completely subjective. It is what you say it is, what you think it is, what you feel it is. I feel multitudes far past the allotted depths - I am awake, I am curious, I am trying to understand …

This is a story of dedication to the ones that you love. Of design as a healing process and the meaning of the way the light reflects onto the altar. There is nothing more holy than the sun coming through the blinds into your eyes. Attention not paid where it is due, but where it is demanded - by our inability to process the emotions of tragedy. The red, hot fire of shame screaming much louder than the ever flowing stream of shared humanity and love. The redemption that accompanies returning to the source. I release my head above the water and welcome the cleansing of my sins.

We create not of choice but of necessity. We create when the feeling has no where else to go. When the weight shatters through and spills onto this world through.

I see design everywhere, in words, in music, in the windows and the trees in your sweater, in the way the ice settles on the bottom of glass or the way your peas play off your carrots, I see it in your smile and the way you tell me about your day and in the buttons on your shirt and the sun bouncing off the glass and through the water and on my cheeks and in my skin and the shape of your sandwich after the second bite then the seventh. I hear design in the cracks of the concrete and the curve of grass, in each step taken to the right and the shape of your knee bent backwards upside down, the colors of your soul or your bedspread, or your skin when it’s sunburnt. I feel it in my bones and into my teeth and it drips from my fingertips against the paper, or keys, or glass, or lips, or hair, or waist, or cloth, or wine, or the French fries I ate last week for dinner that reminded me of what shapes you can make with lines or the varying shades of tan or how salty and sweet and light and dark and heavy and soft all go together like lemons and limes or the same flavor different brand. I feel design as the underlying current of life when we wake up each morning, we create this life and take it apart and put it back together and today I chose the black sweater and tonight i’ll choose the yellow silk top and it tells me how to string together my words and my hands and which layer to add and which way to look for the sky.