It’s crazy how each piece instantly takes me back to the moment in time that it was created.
The lessons I was learning, the people that I interacted with, the feelings I swam through as I painted them.
It just comes back. Like somehow I used an image to time stamp a memory of my life into reality.
I wonder if when people look at my pieces, they can pick up on the emotions that were responsible for its birth. That maybe art is a form of empathy and telepathy, where we don’t need words to understand one another’s creations and reasons for being who we are in the world.
Just thoughts from space.