You Haunt Me
Sloo G.
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At a young age, I was extremely gullible. Time and time again, I was fooled with such simple words that elicited compliments intertwined with fruitful hate. From this, I have had my firsts taken away from me forcefully and unwillingly. As I have grown older, I am no longer gullible. I am perceptive and observant. Though, as I have aged, my traumatic experience as a child has prevailed, clinging onto me with desperate might. Clawing into my skin, like a wound that is constantly reopening. I have finally decided to sprout from my trauma and not let it define me. Art is a coping mechanism for me and I thought this moment in time would be perfect as I am on the path to graduating high school and encountering fresh, admirable people. But this point in my life is a constant reminder for me and I hate myself for it. Hate myself for letting myself be so manipulated by such grotesque words. As you can see, there is a woman in the middle of the painting, experiencing grief even years later. She has realized that this has made such an impact on her life without even acknowledging it. The man to the left of her, taunting her, the eyes scratched out, signifying that he blocked his pathways to the soul but was willing to show her everything else. He is surrounded by an aura of a murky red, showing that he is dangerous. To the right of the woman, there is a child. A younger version of the woman, basking in a golden light and leaning on the woman. Even with the child currently undergoing her trauma continuously, she forgives her older self, realizing that she was too young to know what was happening to her. I wanted to incorporate the murky red and golden in the middle of the woman to show her mental battle and acknowledge the scars that this left on her. There are small rectangles of conversation that are circling the woman, reminding her of what happened between the man and her younger self, reading "send plz" and "I already sent:(." As she tries to heal herself, exchanged words haunt her.
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Creativity to me means everything. I cannot live without artistic expression. I am autistic so, personally, artistic ability helps me in every form- through means of communication, expressions, and aid. I am in love with every definition of fine art. Art is subjective and that is tremendously lovely.
