continuous dawn

continuous

[kuh n-tin-yoo-uh s] 

adjective

1. uninterrupted in time; without cessation:

continuous coughing during the concert.

2. being in immediate connection or spatial relationship:

a continuous series of blasts; a continuous row of warehouses.

dawn

[dawn] 

noun

1. the first appearance of daylight in the morning:

Dawn broke over the valley.

2. the beginning or rise of anything; advent:

the dawn of civilization.

 

sometimes things don't get created in a linear and logical way that you often assume. this is the case with this upcoming series that will be released 10/22. i started working on the collection weeks ago and knew exactly what i was doing with it, and where i was heading, but i had no words for what it was that i was creating or where i was taking it.

i tried to not dwell on it and just continued down the path i was on.  over and over i told myself that the words would follow eventually, and that is exactly what happened.

one early morning on a flight to newark, a question i've struggled with hit me once again.

"what is your signature as an artist?"

i have been on this journey for just about a year and i still don't think that i have a "style" - it's bothered me. a lot. i see so many artists that when you look at their work, you can tell it's theirs. there is some signature element, colors, strokes, something that they can call their own. i have none. i thought by this point i would have something of my own. a style i preferred, a mark, color palette, and i just simply do not. i try and give myself a little slack since this is not my fulltime job, but to me it feels like failure.

instead of seeing it as a this, it dawned on me that what i've been doing is a constant learning process and evolution and that it's ok that i haven't found my "it" yet.

the collection name "continuous dawn" embodies the true purpose. each day i create is a new chance for me to try something new. it's a constant process of unpredictable experiments and torn up pages that didn't go as planned. the process of growth is something with a deeper significance that what i have given it credit for. looking at things with a new perspective, i feel grateful for this ever-changing vulnerability.

as a perfectionist in most aspects of life, this is the one activity i think i've learned to let go control of. in my day to day life i am a planner, i thrive on a schedule and predictability. when i get home from work and create, the reason it has been so peaceful and calming to me is that i have no expectations and no plans when i sit down to paint. things just happen. i don't go into a piece knowing what i want it to become. it just becomes.

almost a year ago when i started my instagram, i created it just to kind of have a personal documentation of my growth. i had zero expectations or inclination that anyone would care or follow my page and not in a million years did i think someone would purchase my work or show it. i am so grateful for what it has evolved into. in and of itself this is also a continuous dawn, never knowing what people will like, not knowing what connections will be made, and not knowing the next steps i will take.

and that's ok.

the evolution of it all is what makes it special. i hope that my continuous dawn sticks around for a long time and that i continue to learn and transform as both a person and an artist