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There are an infinite amount of artforms that exist in this lovely and pain-filled humanity. Thousands of forms of expression. Many, including I, believe that living life is an artform in itself. I have been outrageously privileged to have the opportunity to choose a life of excitement, adventure, learning, and travel.
Travel, particularly traveling solo, has brought some of the most profound, extraordinary, and painful emotions to my life. As an artist, it is within my nature to express these emotions; to turn experience and emotion into feasible, physical, art.
I call myself a visual artist, creating paintings, sculptures, things of the sort. Sharing visual art has never been difficult for me. Although always very personal, my paintings contain my emotions in a cryptic, surreal manner, hidden just enough from the viewer that their interpretation becomes an entity outside of myself.
Writing, however, at least in my mind; holds an entirely different level of personal expression. Here is me, here is everything, everything I'm feeling, thinking, seeing. Yes, it's about me, about you, about this place, about that situation. It is naked, stripped bare, as vulnerable as vulnerability gets. I always feared that. I was never ready.
Twenty-five years into life, I am ready. I'm ready to tell my stories. However stupid and emotional, or however poetic and beautiful. However they are seen or read by anyone that chooses to see or read them.
Seeing Seven is my creative writing blog filled with poetry, prose, short stories, and journal entries, coming from my experiences both at home, and around the world. Currently, in early 2019, I have been to 13 countries, touching 4 continents thus far. My goal, if I am blessed enough to reach it, is to touch all 7 continents by my 30th birthday. Whether these writings be about the spectacular landscapes of far-off lands that I have been lucky and ballsy enough to throw myself towards, whether they be about the gnawing pain of struggling with depression, whether they be about the wonderful and fleeting concept of freedom, they are each a tiny piece of my heart and brain, sprawled out openly on these pages.
I am not only a visual artist, but I am a writer. Here is my most vulnerable, as well as most practiced, artform. Here is the red blood that makes me human. Here is "Seeing Seven."
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