I heavily could relate to Garam in a way that I cannot imagine myself doing anything else.
Maybe it has been an amalgamation of what people and strangers expected me to do during my formative years or it was a passing afterthought to soothe a middle-schooler's delusion of hitting it to the big leagues. Probably it was an ego thing? Thinking I am a gift to the world and an untapped genius? Goodness, who knows? I don't! All I know is that when life is getting me through the fucking wringer, it's painting and drawing like a pocket of air I trudge my limping self forward to. But its also the rusty metal pipe hitting me behind the head in a dark alleyway.
Unsure of who am I anymore as an artist and as a human being. Maybe that is the point. I haven't properly look at myself yet because acknowledging that I have been tampered from my self-imposed expectations is a terrifying conclusion to come at. And that's all there is to it, an expectation. I have deep respect for the arts as it rewards those who are willing to comb through and welcomes it with the spot to ponder and feel---I hope to find myself there, too.
As somebody with no prior connections who chose this godforsaken journey with much enthusiasm, everyday felt like my balls were stomped and caved in with thousand forceful dwarves tldr it sucks balllssss. But much like Garam, it's a reminder that it will be a thorny road of self-reflection up ahead. It will hurt, but man it is so fucking worth it.
I heavily could relate to Garam in a way that I cannot imagine myself doing anything else.
Maybe it has been an amalgamation of what people and strangers expected me to do during my formative years or it was a passing afterthought to soothe a middle-schooler's delusion of hitting it to the big leagues. Probably it was an ego thing? Thinking I am a gift to the world and an untapped genius? Goodness, who knows? I don't! All I know is that when life is getting me through the fucking wringer, it's painting and drawing like a pocket of air I trudge my limping self forward to. But its also the rusty metal pipe hitting me behind the head in a dark alleyway.
Unsure of who am I anymore as an artist and as a human being. Maybe that is the point. I haven't properly look at myself yet because acknowledging that I have been tampered from my self-imposed expectations is a terrifying conclusion to come at. And that's all there is to it, an expectation. I have deep respect for the arts as it rewards those who are willing to comb through and welcomes it with the spot to ponder and feel---I hope to find myself there, too.
As somebody with no prior connections who chose this godforsaken journey with much enthusiasm, everyday felt like my balls were stomped and caved in with thousand forceful dwarves tldr it sucks balllssss. But much like Garam, it's a reminder that it will be a thorny road of self-reflection up ahead. It will hurt, but man it is so fucking worth it.