CREATE UNTIL YOU ARE EMPTY

As a child, I often thought time was in abundance, simply because I was young. I was confident that I would have time to figure things out, time to check off milestones I had set for my life; time to establish my design career, find love, create a family, time to get old. I sometimes even held back on chasing dreams that seemed too ambitious, because I was sure I would have time to pursue them later when I was ready. But I was never prepared for the day when my time would be in question.

That day came on a summer morning in 2019, when I was diagnosed with a rare form of kidney disease called Focal Segmental Glomerulosclerosis, also known as FSGS. I apparently had this disease throughout most of my childhood, but I wasn't diagnosed until I was 24. I was told that the FSGS had impacted my kidney function significantly, to the extent of being categorized as End-Stage Kidney Disease. Suddenly, all of the time that I once thought was infinite seemed to be running out.

Being diagnosed with FSGS at 24 years young was the worst moment of my life, at least so I thought. I spent several days in a hospital bed, devastated, terrified, and full of grief; grieving for all the future forms of myself that I’d never get the chance to meet; a mom, a successful designer, a wife, a traveler, a grandmother. Moments of my life that I had dreamed of so vividly as a child suddenly grew dark; invisible milestones I had marked for my life quickly erased. My world was empty.

When I had exhausted all my grief, fears, and pain, I was gifted with a dream one night as I lay in a hospital bed. A dream that started off in a black limitless space, and eventually filled with people from paintings I had admired and studied as a teenager. But these people weren't still, as they had been painted by their creators. They moved and danced vibrantly, loudly, and brilliantly. They had lives of their own that expanded past the confinements of canvas they were painted on.

I held on closely to that dream after being discharged from the hospital. I became obsessed with the idea of making the clothing that the people were painted in, come to life. The challenge to create something that had never been done filled me with the same sense of exploration and wonder I possessed as a child--true happiness. In this dream, I found a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than my illness, other than death.

I started by studying the paintings I saw in my dreams. I observed the size of the brush strokes, the hues of the paint, the detail in the line work, the proportions, and the overall spirit of the painting. Then I began making patterns from those paintings, bit by bit eventually joining them together to create a life-size replica. After the patterns were created, I wasn't certain this dream of mine would come together. At this point in my process, all I had done was take the paintings I studied and transferred them to pattern paper. When I began cutting the fabric from the pattern, the ideas in my head began to materialize. Ideas that once seemed impossible seemed achievable. I could finally see the clothing begin to take form. I then proceeded to the color matching process where I mixed fabric dyes to match the hues of the original paint. Next, came the assembly process, which consisted of joining the fabric together, then using my sewing machine as a drawing tool to create the line work. When the sewing was complete, I was left with thousands of thread endings that made it nearly impossible to visualize the final garment. So I began trimming the threads with scissors until the line work was clearly defined. The trimming process allowed me to witness my initial idea take life.

After creating my first artwear design, I continued to make one after another until it became my daily routine. I became less focused on the complications of my illness and more focused on my new creative journey. I completed an artwear collection of 5 paintings in less than a year from my diagnosis. Things became easier, and before I knew it, my kidneys actually began to heal, working my way to stage 3 kidney disease.

Unfortunately, at the beginning of 2021, I unexpectedly went into kidney failure due to an autoimmune disease flare-up and was placed on peritoneal dialysis to keep my kidney function stable. Even though things seemed hopeless at the start of the year, I didn't feel empty and defeated. It was a major setback, but I didn't lose the battle. I knew I had a journey to get back to; my happy place I had created for myself. I was still filled with excitement to continue the journey. Despite the highs and lows of my health, I am the happiest I've ever been in my life. I'm fortunate to have the opportunity to devote all my time to create, in a society where having the time to create is regarded as a luxury and not a necessity. Each day I wake up with the ability to get out of bed and create, I am reminded I still have more to give, more to share with the world. In a time when everything feels like it's all been said and done, I can take the familiar and reintroduce it in a way that's never been done before. I'm forever grateful for this ability and the opportunity to use my work to inspire others to create from those crazy ideas that seem too impossible.

As I reflect on who I used to be, who I wanted to be, and what I saved time for in my life, I'm reminded of how often we never take the time to think about the things we need to live; the body functions that we rely on daily, that we tend to take for granted. And in the same thought, we also never take the time to think about the things outside the body that we need to live; the things that give life meaning. We aren't forced to think about those things until we are without; body function or meaning. Unfortunately, this is true in my story. But as I reminisce on the young adult life I once lived, to the young adult who takes 17 pills a day, who uses a tube placed in my abdomen to fill my stomach with 10 liters of solution nightly to keep my kidneys physically functioning. I can honestly say the life and spirit of my kidneys lie in the passion of my creativity, not a machine.

In making peace with all the things I thought I had lost, I realized that many of those invisible milestones I had set for myself were never really mine. They were things that I was taught I should want to achieve to have success. I've learned that neither success nor happiness comes from checking off milestones in one's life, but instead it stems from doing what you love. Sometimes the depth of one's life is more important than the distance. This creative journey has allowed me to meet the best version of myself to date. I'm resilient, strong, passionate, confident in not only myself, but confident in my ideas and creations, and most importantly, someone who doesn't fear emptiness. But instead, I am dedicated to creating until I'm empty.