‘Nyx, Goddess Of The Night’ (2018)
So angry. I was just so angry.
Angry at the world, for being engineered in such a way that it’s made hard to e heard through all the noise of the ones that came before me. And ohw – have there been so many that came before me. What could I possibly have to say that would make the world bat an eye into my direction even in the slightest??
Angry at the ones around me, for always expecting me to one day just give p this pursuit of individuality and become like the common man, or rather the common denominator. Because it easier that way. And I would always be berated for my seemingly futile endeavors. Criticized for my efforts. Mocked for my ideas. But worst of all, condescended for my distinction.
Angry at myself, for no longer grasping the essence of much about my own life nor my craft. Both of with were fleeting out of my hands like tiny grains of sand, as Ii idly watched without being able to do a thing about it. All for the simple fact that … that I merely didn’t know how to reclaim that which I’ve lost; that which I once held in such dear regard. Not only were they the sum and substance of meaning to my existence, but also did they constitute my arsenal, my weaponry. And now that they were fleeting right before my eyes, I also found myself waning in strength. That which was necessary to keep moving forward, for without it there didn’t seem much of a point to persist in this seemingly endless battle.
…
These were the thoughts and feelings that inspired me to work out a sketch that ha remained hidden inside a sketchbook of approximately a year old at the making of this drawing. The sketch itself was inspired by the same feelings that I had conjured up in a hopelessly empty life that I used to live, confined in a solitary dorm room in the outskirts of Rotterdam.
