Yesterday I was driving through town and I saw someone had painted over their trash and recycling bins. The trash bin now read 'Prayers' and the recycling bin read 'Thoughts'.

This morning I have been trying to go through my external storage and clean it up in a major way. Though many of my folders from school have labels, I pitched so many different files in without a thought. Then I came across an artist statement from 2011(ish) - 2013 (ish).

Concealed, Carried

I am attracted to the darkest hour, of the longest day, at the weakest point in the human spirit.
My work is about the deeper aspects of being human: the emotional ailments and the mental frailties that can hold us hostage. We fight to hide them and too often than not, fight harder to hold onto them in fear of standing alone and exposed. We address them only at the surface of the impenetrable. These aspects of our humanity, the emotional concealed carry alongside the fight for composure, are aesthetically constructed and therapeutically expelled into my artwork, manifesting into suggested traumatized infestations of anxiety, depression and/or states of imbalance...

The thoughts and experiences I was dealing with during that period of my life have been resurfacing lately, only in a different way. These questions about life and what it means to experience life have been recycled. I now have the advantage that 5-7 years of additional wisdom can give you: looking from a distance at painful memories and seeing that somehow you made it through.

Some new words I'm considering with this internal dialogue:

resilience, shared-experience, human-ness