There is a compulsion inside me that doesn’t stop pressing towards the outside to create, to bring forth… something… something beautiful, something interesting, something evocative, something expressive.

I have so many mediums to try, like writing for instance, which I love because it’s so simple, I can just flow and edit, it’s pretty straight forward, for me and for the reader. I like it because there is no confusion whatsoever… if I can convey the intentionality of my words of course.

Then there is music and painting, those have been my sweethearts since I have memory. A good beat takes the listener to places. Brings memories, brings sensations in the skin, in the stomach, in the heart.

When those two mediums are put together with quality the result overtakes consciousness. Some power!

Then there’s painting, this art form keeps pulling me; it seems I have a talent. I found out it is legit almost about to turn 30. And it wasn’t because I have never done but because someone told me so…

Funny how third party validation can define self opinion. I guess because it’s not bias… Ha! What’s not biased anyway?

Everyone has their own lenses to look. Like if I have purple lenses then even a green square will look purple.

At the end: that’s the thing with art… it brings perceptions to live.

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