Dear modeling industry: I have the curves a woman should embrace with confidence. It's time for change and it's going to take somebody who isn't afraid of being judged by society. I am not model skinny, nor do I want to be because my body is not who I am. It is only WHAT I am. It's time for girls to be confident enough to look at themselves in the mirror and know they are good enough and can do ANYTHING they could ever dream of. These photos were taken in the name of art. I am a photographic muse, not a "human coat hanger." Do not ask for my weight, measurements, or anything along the lines that place me in a false bracket of the type of "girl" I represent in the industry which portrays manipulated standards of beauty.
Existence is the true artist. It is simply: creation, perspective, justification of what any one thing can symbolize through an unspoken language or process. Everything and nothing, it all just is, but recognizing when it can just BE is the hardest part. Is it when the he(art) screams “enough” or when the m(eye)nd can’t perceive anything contrary to subliminal composition and aesthetic?
In Plain Sight
How hollow an existence without the presence of luck and divination, living life on an ever ticking clock taking you nowhere aside from the path of The Unconscious. A place where physical objects are seduced over the depths of One's heart, mind, and soul, more widely know as "The Cold, Hard Truth." The comfort, the ease of falling into your own shadows, to close your eyes, to pretend it never happened. The clock ticks faster and louder, the alarm strikes The Awakening, sacrificing comfortability. The signs and symbols are in plain sight, waiting for you to open your eyes and manifest your own destiny by seeing Light at the end of the tunnel, finding tranquility in chaos.
I feel like I'm in an empty room, speaking, with the echoes of my own emptiness ricocheting back into my ear with false hopes. There is a door in the distant corner, on the right side, in particular. The shadows cave in around that door, making it disappear from my sight. The only thing that can make it appear again is light, but the light is on the other side of the door subdued by the darkness.
Eventually, the light shines so radiant that it peaks through the cracks of the door, framing freedom. The door cracks, and I walk towards it, but as soon as I reach for the knob to open it wide and allow the light to flood the empty room with hope, it slams in my face knocking me off my feet and throwing me onto the cold hard ground of nothingness. I speak and hear nothing more than the false hope I've created in vast amount of space. But wait, the door opened again.
I'm in the middle of the floor, lying there, and I sit up, turn my head around and look behind me. The corner that I was originally sitting in looking at the door is the part of the room taken over by the darkness. But where was the light causing the initial shadow hiding the door coming from? The corner next to the darkness is blinded by light and adjacent to that corner is the door.
But what about the remaining corner? What is its role in all of this? I try to stand up but there is no ground, so I scream, but the scream does not echo because it does not come out at all. I close my eyes, open them, and there are no more corners, but there is a ground.
So I stand up, for something. And I lift my right knee to my chest and stomp the floor creating a vibration, which causes me to melt away into the ground of nothing more than an idea. I begin to drip, to trickle down into this half lit place, and I realize, "This is the other corner."