Portrait of an artist as a college kid


Yesterday on a bench outside on the most beautiful of all fall days, I asked J what I should do when I grow up. He tried to avoid the question and then with some hesitancy, said: an artist of sorts.

Later, I got this email:

When we talked today, I didn’t mean you should be an artist. Rather, you are an artist. I think it means seeing the world a certain way. With your own eyes. With eyes that are uncertain and curious.
. . .
“Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what’s next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.” – Agnes de Miller

I’m currently working through my third year here . . . And, if I had done things right (* er, not abandoned school for a year), I’d be graduating in May.

Happy and thankful right now I’m only doing school // work // relationships // making life plans . . . but I find that within me there is this growing pressure to know what I want out of life after this. After all, so much of our college careers are wrapped up in that question. Sometimes, it is hard to ignore.

I find that all I want, all I’ve ever really wanted was to be an artist. I want to create. To feel. To be curious (always). And to not shrink back from challenges.

If college has done one thing for me, it has given me a sense of possibility. Each and everyday, us kids are bombarded by possibility and just all we could do if there were more hours in a day// if we were more talented//etc.

I find that I’m dissatisfied by my work and how I spend my days unless I’m touching // molding // and creating things with my mind // my eyes and most of all, my hands.

I find that I want to do. . . I want to do everything and cannot comfortably (*just) learn without actually doing.

I’m certainly a work in progress, but I’m enjoying the process for the most part. . .

[Photo: Swallowed in the sea. Depock beach, Indonesia//Grace Farson]

cleaning day

my not so tidy bathroom

clean and organized are two words no one ever has described me with.

as much as i hate to admit it, i am neither one. ultimately i have my artistic temperament, my hectic schedule, and my lack of interest in cleaning to blame. as i mentioned before,  mom and dad’s house was perfectly clean for over six months. . . then. . . i come back. . . and disaster! i tend to fill my life with things. and often times things i don’t need. not a day goes by when i remind myself – remember just how easy and simple it was living out of a backpack for the start of the year?

i love and miss that freedom in knowing that everything you own is strapped on your back. at home i have an assortment of things i certainly don’t need but also things that i love. i have mountains of old paintings, sketches, journals, books, and clothes. yes, mountains.

thinking through and packing for my future at unc has been a fun process too. . . but i’ve ended up making more messes around the house.

all this to say this one thing – today was a cleaning day.

. . .

+ this video is fully mesmerizing

+ this photo of picasso with an afghan

+ this diy necklace and this earthy jewelry

+ this photo of amy poehler

+ this word clock

+ this film excites me more than i can say! one of these days i hope to be a part of something this extraordinary.

. . .

p.s. {later} i did get my whole bathroom cleaned and challenge you to also get rid of some stuff you don’t need! still more to sort through but progress was made.