I have been contemplating about how deep I want to go with my artwork as of late. I think that sometimes when things are too tender to touch those are very things must be brought out and discussed. As much as I feel a pressing deep within me to speak what is true of those who live in poverty, I seem to back up. What is obvious is that everyone does not get a chance to speak or to artistically create what they see in this world; many are either silenced or too scared for the task. I on the other hand lay between the middle, I have not been silenced, but yet a fear remains. How will people perceive me and what will they do when truth is spoken? I do not speak of a violence being committed upon my person, but the feeling of being ignored. To reach out into the depths of my soul and share a personal experience with those who may see my art. Yet at the same time, these moments become brushed away due to the "get over it" mentality of America. What effects those in my neighborhood is deeply rooted in the harsh realities of America since the beginning.
In spite of this I ask myself, what is a thoughtful man with a self closed mouth. Does not the heights of ideas and true change need a voice that will produce ripe fruit for the mind? I am comfortable, but more so convicted by my own silence. This is not a moment of clarity, but the constant realization that honesty first and foremost is artist's duty; when they want to capture the pure nature of a people. So I write this to myself and anyone who would read it to never be afraid when truth is at the tip of your tongue. If for one moment you bite it to not speak, for fear of the thoughts of others, your mouth may never open to speak truth again. I do not exaggerate because so much has happen to people all over the world simply because they did not speak. So I say to myself and to you, to no longer hender your moments of deep inspiration for the sake of an audience. Be what God created you to be. Of all things, truth does not agree with us the most because it reveals. It opens up a place within man that he has long shielded himself away from. It begs the question of how twisted our morality has become. I can no longer afford to comfortable when I see destruction going on around me on a daily basis. The heart opens to what the mind will not yield to, which is the freedom to express the realities of life. And if I am to call myself a man I must give voice to my artistic pains, so that others may possibly be changed by them. So I insist, watch as I struggle with myself to give the best of my painful experiences. All that I ask you (myself) is that you will be changed and strengthened by them. After all, how do you give birth to a better self if you do not labor in some pain? God bless.
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