For my entire life, art has been an external escape from my responsibilities and from the tough realities of the world. I used to dance to feel only my body and its needs under the spotlights of a stage. I often sketch my feelings into shapes and images which I cannot articulate into words. For the first time, I am prioritizing my creative self to generate material that is not just about leaving from where I am but is rather an exploration of who I am. And I am not sure who that is yet. At this moment in time, I consider myself an artist in transit. My artistic process is driven by my instinctive needs at any given moment and thus shifts overtime. Over the process of a week, one painting’s meaning might change half a dozen times. Maybe it looks different under the sun than it does while listening to the rain outside with a window cracked. With that said, the steps remain the same. I begin with a cathartic outpour of poetry written, often illegibly, on the page. The words are the heartbeat of the piece and are intentionally obscured. The poetry underneath might contain...