What is your story?

You can tell an entire story... bring forth thousands of words to the world for others to view... without ever saying a single word. With your hands, you can create a masterpiece that does all of the speaking for you. Not a single letter or sound is required to bring everything forth in many shapes and forms. The power art holds is immeasurable, an ability almost beyond the plains of this world. This profound manifestation of the innermost thoughts and desires of countless minds... their presence is here for all of us to see.

A freshly sharpened pencil... a clean paintbrush... a mass of moist clay... a swath of soft fabric...a pair of brandished scissors... streaks of graphite glimmering on the page.... the bright paint spreading across the cloth… the needle poking and passing every miniscule fiber... the blades slicing through materials, the sound of the crisp cut... the beautiful things each and every one of us are capable of creating require merely a few tools and our boundless imagination.

Many have taken the liberty to tell stories with the art they bring to life. Stories of tragedy and triumph, of love and hatred, of war and peace... everything under the sun, moon, and stars has the chance to be someone’s muse. Art has given insight into many facets of our lives, and many more we all take for granted. They have tapped into our humanity in manners we never knew were possible before, another universe waiting to be ventured.

From the intense adrenaline in sports to the harmonious melodies of musical compositions, this world offers a plethora of hobbies and arts we all have the opportunity to explore and pursue. I found that passion I wanted to nurture... and after a hiatus that has greatly impacted my life... I want to continue with this once again.

Years ago... reversing countless suns and moons... back to where this love began. Some of us find a place we love when we are lost in darkness. Bullying and ostracization at school… abuse and violence at home... no place to call a safe haven and no one to confide in... food became my best friend. This seemingly kind and considerate friend left me obese before reaching adolescence, and I had to cut them loose. But releasing this burden from my life left a major void... an empty space that sat there... almost like a black hole fighting to make me cave in.

With nothing to comfort me, lost in a world of pain I cannot accurately put into words, I searched far and wide for what would bring me back home. Being forced into sports didn’t provide me that drive I was searching for, video games were merely an escape from reality when it was affordable, and school became a place where I was never satisfied with my performance, and I still never felt fully safe and accepted by others. There is no reason to sugarcoat what had happened. Life early on was... cruel... there was nothing exciting or adventurous about always being in survival mode. I sometimes wish I had the chance to turn back time, reverse the earth’s orbit a few thousand spins so that I can have the chance to have a healthy and safe childhood. But it isn’t possible, and I know I am not the only one who wishes for the impossible. I do my best to try and make peace with what I couldn’t control. Moreover, I am doing my best to stop blaming myself because it wasn’t my fault.

Yet at the time I grew so tired... so tired of constantly being in survival mode... so tired of pushing everything down to appease my abusers... so tired of living. I wanted to finally have not just something that I love, but something that I could finally release the pain in a safe and healthy manner. That... that was when I finally discovered art. Born into this world as little doodles and sketches, my art began its journey. My earlier creations mimicked the other hobbies I had as a child. Video games... train tracks... outdoor toys... they served as the models for my lifelong career as a personal artist.

As times worsened, I relied on this hobby as a form of therapy. The dark and grim days increased in numbers, nearly consuming me well before graduating from high school. Please... I begged... I pleaded... I wanted to know what I did wrong... I wished I knew what I did to be treated the way I was... was me existing that much of a curse on this world? I reached a point where I believed this... and at that point I was ready to go.

Many disagreed with my sixteen year old self, but I had enough; I wanted to leave... but I decided to stay, hoping things would change. I wanted to live... just not in the life I was trapped in... I wanted an escape from that in hopes of discovering something more... so maybe there was hope for me. Just stay... give life another chance... maybe things would finally change.

I wish I was right; it was another failed trial run. This was merely a temporary relief from the fall I was in, only to resume and continue my descent through the rabbit hole. It’s dark... so dark... Please show me some light... it’s so cold... I want to leave... where's the way?

With this downward spiral, many more art pieces were created. As I explored more media from painting to ceramics, I broadened my arsenal of tools... including something I never thought I would ever be able to incorporate in the days I was still producing drawings. Their sturdy handles... silver blades... sharp edges... scissors joined me and my art on this journey.

At first they merely served as an aid in opening my supplies that I would use. Sketchbooks, bottles, canvases, cases of clay... they were all accessed because of my trusty scissors. Never before had I considered how crucial scissors would become in many of the art pieces I would bring to this world. Little did I know that this would soon change, and I would reach a point that they were vital to many of my projects I poured all of my passion into.

At a young age, scissors became one of my new best friends, helping me construct people, animals, flora, and even houses and buildings out of paper, cups, and bendy straws. Though lonely with no friends and very few healthy relationships at home, I felt loved and appreciated by the small cities and towns I created. Elaborate floor plans, sometimes containing multiple stories, all decorated with furnishings. Not only did I have video games to escape this world, but now I had the ability to create my own.

I didn’t think the necessity of scissors in my art would evolve past this point, but I would quickly be proven wrong again. I began using different materials, including cardboard and plastic, to serve as my raw materials for projects. Before I became very critical of my own work, I was brave in venturing different avenues to create things. I can’t truly describe the excitement and exhilaration that came with a new idea I was ready to try.

It continued with fabrics, shaping them however I wish. Cotton as soft as the sky creatures above, wriggling its way through stitching, completing the precious plushies I created, from little decorations I treasure to homemade dog beds for my beagle. Lulu appreciated the love I put into them, and now I am hoping I can return to doing this to remind her how much I care. Besides, she made chew toys out of the others.

Drawing is, by far, the medium I have dedicated the most time to over the years. For me it was the most accessible. At home, in classes and later on lectures, and out in the rest of the world... it was almost always feasible to come equipped with some pencils and paper. This was important to me because I was always on my feet, both with and without my consent. Even though these are the only requirements to create drawings, I manage to later incorporate scissors as well... and sometimes I still confuse myself with how I managed to do this.

This went beyond basic modifications to the paper I drew on; I soon used to help produce templates and tracing tools I would use to aid me in proportions and accuracy in subjects, specifically portraits. Sometimes it helped me take original pieces of artwork and be able to make modifications by cutting and reprinting them. The more I experimented, the more possibilities rose... and they all began to rekindle that burning passion I had lost so long ago.

When I thought I was done, I found yet even more ways to incorporate scissors. Now my sculptures can thank my handy tool for its contributions. Slicing into a fresh slab of clay, I place the scissors to the side and mold the pieces I want to make but picking up the metal tool again and using them to craft additional parts to my sculptures.

How do I explain? This... peace.... this love? It’s like being at your favorite place, taking everything in. It feels like a dream that you wait for every night. It gifts you a special kind of joy. Art opened up a new world for me to explore

But when I thought that life was finally improving... that maybe things would be okay... it happened again. The demonic voices from my past caught up to me, snatching before body slamming me to the ground and brainwashing me. After years of fighting my inner critic, I was losing again; being my own abuser was worse than it had ever been in my life. It was almost as if someone had pressed the replay button, and I was seeing my sixteen year old self again. Why are you here again? Why did history have to repeat itself? None of this is right.

2020... ah yes... the year of all years... my favorite. I thought I had enough to battle with myself about as it is, but this year was generous enough to drop off a gift... four gifts... four deaths... goodbye. Goodbye, Scooby, our dog who was with us for seventeen years. Goodbye, Grammy Wright, though not my actual grandmother, she always felt like one, and who I had known and loved since I was a child. Goodbye, Meme... my grandmother... one of the best people in my life... your smile and heart of gold being some of the best things this world had...gone. And goodbye Dad... I know our relationship was rocky to say the least... but there was a chance to rebuild it together... and it was taken before we had the chance. Ironically, not a single death was caused by the plague of the century. It didn’t make anything easier though. This was but one area causing such a degree of pain and grief, to the point I couldn’t function anymore.

I thought I had it all figured out... a Bachelors and Masters later... a few years in the field later... and no... no... this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! This is all wrong! I tried to settle for something different from what I truly wanted and it failed! I thought listening to others about what would make me happy would work! It didn’t... I’m miserable... I stared at the clock every day, waiting for the time of departure to arrive. This isn’t right… I have to leave... I have to try and figure out what makes ME happy.

Many events in my life, all I felt was sadness, anger, and pain. These failures beat me down to a point I couldn’t even recognize myself. Deep down... I didn’t believe I deserve the fulfilling relationships I have... I didn’t believe I deserved a second chance to rebuild my life again... I didn’t believe I deserved to be happy, loved, or even alive. I woke up everyday wishing I didn’t. I believed I robbed another soul of a chance to be on this earth... and I’ve wasted their chance. Deep down, I believe I am absolutely nothing... sometimes I still do.

As I try to rebuild myself back from the darkest depths I have aimlessly wandered in, I am hoping to once again begin exploring the arts... how I have missed them. Over time I felt many, smaller black holes form, eating me alive. The void wasn’t just a part of me... I was becoming what I feared most. Now I am doing my best to close them, at least one with a hobby... a passion... a way of life... that I had let go of when my sense of being finally gave in on itself.

Art will return to my life, and many of my projects wouldn't be possible without my handy pair of scissors so remembering those is a must! My story fuels many of the creations I have brought into existence, and I have many more to tell both from my mind and the worlds in my head I have spent months or years creating. This is just the beginning. A new beginning. I am ready. Are you? What is your story?