Reflecting before I paint.

We are in a time of divide. Of faith, of class, of health.

Talking about our own problems has become redundant. We are in a literal pandemic. A revolution in the making and mistrust founded in my generations cultural experiences.

The thing I miss the most are hugs.

Human connections.

The more time progresses the more the divide grows and grows. Fear is very powerful.

The church used it for centuries and now we fear each other.

I have returned to my home town. Only for a moment to see my family doctor and hopefully paint. The city all my memories lay dormant and define me to my core. I decided to treat myself and get a room at the same hotel my grand parents stayed at when I was a child and were in town for business. The rooms have been remodelled but the air and sights are still familiar. It’s past 3 am and I can see the parliament lit up beside the chateau Laurier and the trails I used to explore at this time of night to talk to the creator and grasp the universe and my journey.

I have always enjoyed this city under the ghostly dead silence of the night. Government towns do have their benefits. The nights are calm and silent. I couldn’t even count the amount of early mornings that were spent without sleep walking around parliament and downtown. Travelling from bench to bench and sculpture to sculpture. Many decision that have shaped my life have been made under those circumstances.

It will be 3 years I left to be near my parents in their hometown. I don’t regret it. I do see how much I’ve grow since. Moving near them justified all my insecurities growing up. Sounds negative, but it was an experience I needed to grow and move on . Moving on from one selfs traumas is very hard but so rewarding. It is the first time in my life I am not stressed out. I just don’t care anymore. And that feeling is so liberating.

I don’t care that i’m 29 and not sure about anything. I don’t care about gender roles, life milestones or societies idea of proper progression. I don’t care that some people just don’t want me in their life. Their loss. I don’t care that I might have ruined opportunities cause I needed to work on myself. I don’t care if I have weird hairs that grow places and that I give the best hugs cause im squishy. I don’t care that you’re intimidated. I don’t care if you don’t understand.

What I do care about it is the art of not giving a fuck. Cause to be honest it’s the only way I know how to survive. Because, I really care. I care that this generation is speaking up. I care about the me too movement. I care that things that were normal when I was growing up are now unacceptable. I care that people are living their truth. I care about my participants. I care about my fellow artists and people struggling within themselves. I care about my neighbour and if they are going to eat. I care that people are getting their lives ripped away from them because they don’t know how to break addiction or their parents cycle. I care that you are sick. I care that you feel alone. Because I do too.

I started painting to express emotions I couldn’t with words. In the next couple of days I hope to further my journey by creating my simplest series inspired by the places that made me.

The streets are completely empty. Not a car in sight. It’s almost 4 am so I should say good night.


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