For decades, society’s idea of beauty has been a high culture of cherry picked aesthetics of how to look, how to think, how to feel, and how to act.
Because of this, we grow up not used to acknowledging the negative space adaptation of our unique photography and production. For filtered schemes have always been a pleasing thing to the eye.
But today I showcase and premiere my own work of art.
My beauty is not only in my wonderfully arranged and assorted fragments that are seen from the colorful surface light; but it is also in my rough sketches and raw, black-and-white, footage.
I not only endorse my strengths and performances, but also my valid mistakes and weaknesses.
My captivation is not just in my natural embellishments, but also in my marks, wounds, scars and tender bruises.
I bear radiance, not only in my happy and “have it all-together” sunny days, but also in the harsh cold winters of my times of suffering and pain.
There’s a refined rhythm, not just in the beating of my heart, in which I lay my right hand upon, but also in its fragility, and the seasonal shatterings that it endures.
There is music, not only in my open laughs and cheers, but also in my sheltered screams and tears.
There’s a delightful dance, not just when I skip, leap and twirl; but also when I tumble and fall to my knees.
My beauty is a rainbow, which is produced from not just sunlight, but also rain.