I stop explaining myself, I am tired of making everything I create understandable before giving it room to become what it is,
I stop explaining myself, noticing how often I name my intention in advance because uncertainty makes me afraid someone else will decide what the work means,
I stop explaining myself, allowing my contradictions to remain visible instead of forcing everything into one clean version but less honest,
I stop explaining myself, can I let the work speak differently to someone else without needing to defend what I meant,
I stop explaining myself, the work becomes freer when I stop trying to control how it is received…
I trust the filter I carry, even when I cannot explain where it came from or why certain things catch my attention while others just pass through,
I trust the filter I carry, because years of living have gathered inside how I notice, choose, arrange, return, and decide what feels like mine,
I trust the filter I carry, resisting the urge to turn it into a formula because manufacturing what makes me different makes the honest part of disappear,
I trust the filter I carry, when I stop defining my voice do I notice it more clearly in what I naturally choose,
I trust the filter I carry, I become less afraid of not knowing where it came from…
I allow the work to remain imperfect, sometimes the irregularities are where another person can recognize something real and human,
I allow the work to remain imperfect, feeling the old urge of me to polish away anything that reveals how uncertain or unfinished I felt while creating it,
I allow the work to remain imperfect, being seen does not require a version of me untouched by hesitation, failure, or change,
I allow the work to remain imperfect, can I show something I made without removing every trace of the person I was while making it,
I allow the work to remain imperfect, l what once I felt embarrassed with begins to feel strangely familiar…
I keep making, even when I cannot see where these choices are taking me as the work feels like a conversation with myself without any judgement,
I keep making, every attempt leaves something behind that changes how I approach the next,
I keep making, carrying the uncertainty of not knowing who I will become through what I create refusing uncertainty a reason to stop creating,
I keep making, when I look back at what I have created, will I recognize the person I was becoming before I knew how to fully understand her,
I keep making, perhaps this deep work has been revealing all of me all along…
Watchwords:
Something in the work becomes freer
The filter I carry
I allow the work to remain imperfect
Every attempt leaves something behind
The work has been revealing me
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: