Expect Discomfort

Aha.


Something I've always known.

I am an artist.

And I have been running from my art for so long.

Because I am sleepless often, thank fully rather than misery, I feel deeply loved, I don't know why. Maybe its just the tenderness of the gods


The beauty of Instagram when I found it in 2014 was it was a place for me to collect my photos. Unfortunately it has turned into a bloody mess Id' prefer to extricate myself from, but the gloriousness is I can access some of my favourite artists, or discover stupendous worlds of colour, form, delight, and design.


And I am reminded of my own beauty, my own work, my own abilities that I have shelved and shelved again…not good enough, too wacky, no one will understand…all lies I've absorbed from our culture, friends, frenemies, the deepest lie I believe, perpetuated myself…I hereby renounce and resist.


"We don't do this anymore", is the the phrase that changed a friendship for a lifetime and has the power to redirect my life into the pastures/streetlife I have always wished to inhabit and devour.

I don't do dishonest relationships. I will not hide my 'thang", my weird glory, my freak flag. I am a divine freak, I am glorious, I will no longer hide to make others comfortable. Expect discomfort.


”To be nobody but

yourself in a world

which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle

which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” e. e. cummings

Amen and amen, so be it.