I Am an Artist.

I am twisted.

Tied in a knot. My whole life, I have been this knot, the same form and base throughout, but this knot has changed, evolved over the years, into something more…twisted.

The edges frayed, the loops strayed and everything is because I’ve changed. I’ve become my own twisted piece of string because that is so much better than a perfect pink bow.

I am not the one I’m supposed to be I am not the one I’m told to be because I am an artist.

An artist that can see more than the brightness in the world. More than the art behind some thick velvet rope. An artist that can see that a heart in a hand on the side of a building downtown or three stars inked upon your wrist, is just as beautiful as anything sitting behind that retched red rope at the Louvre.

The sick and twisted side of life I see not as something that desperately needs to be corrected with a little light and some fake smiles…but as art. Painting, sketch, graffiti, tattoo,

Whether its and owl, feather, crown, or simply just your love for being loud…it is art.

As written so simply “Life is Beautiful”, it doesn’t matter if its on a rough brick wall or a rough canvas. It is not to be compared.

True art does not discriminate because of where you are or where you came from, who you are or what you were. Because art isn’t some test of humanity. You don’t need it to be brilliant.

Art is art. Simple. Complicated. Clean cut. Sick and twisted. The good the bad and the ugly of our world, our universe is a work of art. Our lives are a work of art.

I am an artist simply because of the air in my lungs and the same goes for the other seven billion creatures who occupy this space.

We express ourselves.

Because freedom of expression is the most beautiful thing. It is the reason for living; it is the reason for breathing.

I am an artist because I am different from you. Because I have lived.

Because life is art and art is beautiful. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve been, what you’ve done. You are an artist.

Because art is art like love is love, you don’t ask why, its just because.

You are your own works of art. Not to be compared. Not to be contrasted. Not to be psychoanalyzed.

The mistakes, the accomplishments, the happiness, pain, fear, realism, metaphor.

Singing in the shower, screaming into your pillow, dancing like nobody’s watching, running away, being held until you stop crying. Walking across the stage as they call your name.

Shake hands, big smile as the cameras flash, walk away sit down among the rest.

Blend in.

Stand out.

You are you, I am me, he is he, and she is she. We are everything we are supposed to be.

Like someone wise once said, I can’t change even if I tried even if I wanted to.

Because I am the one I’m supposed to be, I am the one I told me to be. Because I am an artist.

I am a knot. Different from your knot because I am one of one not one of two and I refuse to be compared to you. Because I am my own. I am me.

I am an artist. My life is art. And my life is beautiful.

 

 

This is my poetry that moves. I wrote this myself and performed it in class.