ode to yellow | a poem

13 October 2019


 (a little bit inspired by olivia gatwood's ode to pink)

are you doing what you're told?

30 September 2019

Throughout my day I often think about what motivates me to do the things I do and why. I also find that people are always telling me that other people are telling me what to do, and there's a lot to sort through in all the messages we are getting everyday. I'm trying to find out who I'm really listening to and if this person is or ever can just be me.

We sacrifice our time and our energy to follow what some perceived audience would want us to do and it's gotten us nowhere. From small things like walking to class and big things like choosing a career. Why do we make decisions like this and how do we make them better?


a love letter to summertime

14 August 2019

I stopped writing for a couple of months because I was feeling particularly uninspired and summer was what I needed to realign myself and focus again on doing the things that I really want to do. So I'm back with a lot of photography, some dreamy poetry, and a short piece about why summer has always been my favorite time of year.

unbalanced love

16 July 2019

Many people consider there to be more than one type of love. Love we have for friends or family, love that is romantic, love that we have for ourselves. When we love we do so recklessly because we cannot help the way that we love. It is the fire that burns forever and fuels us. Sometimes you love people that can't love you back and sometimes you love people because you know they cannot love you back. Sometimes it is unbalanced and sometimes the balance is what gets you up in the morning. 

a short list of things I think will make me happy if I buy them

27 April 2019

where art lives / there is art in everything

14 March 2019

There is an art in the stagnant things like Christmas lights and the collage of books on a shelf. In silverware and china plates, air conditioning and cracks in the sidewalk. Coat hangers. Candles. Magnets and cloud formations. The number of people getting coffee at Starbucks this morning and the amount of time it took you to count them. The shape of ice. There is art in all these magical mundane things that are somehow man-made and perfectly eclectic at the same time.


There is an art in movement. In the way you collapse on the bed after a long day and in the way we brush our hair. In the steps of the person in front of you so focused on their phone they might miss their stop. In the way you move your hair out of your eyes and the sway of wind chimes. The sway of earrings and dangling headphones. Dog ears that move up and down, eraser shavings as they fall, ocean waves as they ebb and flow. Every movement is performance art.

There is an art to the things that just are. Like the way that brown eyes are a collection of everything that exists outside including the trees that kiss the sky and the ground that helps them stand. The way that people stand in lines that somehow curve and flow. Gentle hands and guiding eyes. Every pair of socks that fit and pockets that hold just enough. Walking into a classroom with your favorite seat still open and finding that the store has just enough of the only candy you wanted. Snapping a picture of your neighbors potted plant and posting the picture because it was #GoldenHour. Somehow everything fits together and your pictures of it become a valuable collection of artwork. 

There is an art in the way we write all of this down. The movement of my hands tapping the keyboard right now. The dance your fingers do on your screen when you are bored and don't know where to go next. In messy pages we wanted to be neat and neat pages we wanted a mess. The way that paint moves on its own and books are the perfect weight and pencils the perfect color. It's poetry.


There is an art in what we see. A perfectly curated collection of pins and patches and I bet if you asked anyone who owns these about where they got them, they would have so many stories to tell you. There is an art to anyone who has put posters on their wall or stickers on their laptop. Organizing your closet by season, the fruit that is stacked so carefully in the grocery store, your favorite mug. We chose so many of the items that we have, this color over that one, so that all of our things because our own personal art exhibits. Furniture is visual art yet sculpture with a practical function and maybe if we looked at all of our things like that, we would value them more and invest in things we can reuse and keep forever.

There is art in the missing things. In the words on the tips of your tongue that you can't quite reach. In the words stuck in your throat you can't seem to pull out. The forgotten things under your dark bed frame. Skipped lines while reading, spilled food, the landscape you look at with your eyes but don't take all of in.

Intuition,
sensory perception,
selective attention,
thoughtful
art. 


This is what I mean when I say I want to capture it. Save it. Learn more about it. Spend my time exploring because some people don't see it the same way and tell me it is not worth investing into because sometimes it isn't tangible so to them it isn't real. It doesn't mean anything.

There is so much art in our crazy, modern world and all the little things we have. Waving to a friend is art. Van Gogh's Starry Night was just another night. Monet's Water Lilies, just lilies.

All of these things could have looked so much different but they are here the way they are for a reason and exist just that way so you could see them. I am grateful for this. They had an infinite amount of possibilities but this is the one that worked out, the parallel universe that chose us, the circumstances that arose and I think that is art.


XOXOXO

February in Poetry

03 March 2019


© the velocity of heart. FCD.