|"Are you seeing this?"|
a'misa chiu, ink 2011
I keep multiple journals (one to jot ideas in, one to do artwork in, one a planner, one a checklist). They all flow into each other, and they hold my thoughts and ideas like alternative brains. I don't have a good memory, which was probably the reason I sucked in organic chemistry and math. I just couldn't memorize things. I was always better at bullshit, thus excelling in writing and arts. I could make up my answer, reasoning it out with things I've read or seen or heard, instead of merely regurgitating things back, without it taking a deeper meaning inside of me. Even within the b.s., I found meaning.
Sometimes at night, I get down on myself. I dwell in the past, rather than jump towards future things, wishing for genius, and getting nothing of the sort. But lately, I've been doodling it out, a catharsis. The pen doing all my screaming, absorbing all my feelings and spitting it back down on paper so that I can see it with some distance, and begin to understand myself.
It's so easy to get lost in oneself. To only understand the inner workings of your own mind, which I guess goes to show why people feel isolated and alone in their thoughts. The crazy genius. The idiot savant. The wasted intellect. Everyone wants to come up with 'original thought,' to be unique and special, but to claim something that noone else has ever thought of, is not authentic. it is forgetting that we come from a lineage of thought and idea. That everything is formed by someone else, and the only thing that is really original is expression, one's voice.
A voice is what everyone possess, not just the elite--those special few. To claim elitism is to separate oneself from the rest of humanity, not making one more special, just simply more isolated and alone in one's plight. If only we can come together, dwelling in each other's ideas, giving and sharing more freely with our personal expression, then, maybe, we can come to make an art that is for everyone, that people may feel more free.