everyone has something, somewhere, or even someone that is there escape...
escape from the "real" world... questioning what is and isn't real... as a dadaist
(dada: rejects all logic and reason, and prizes all nonsense, irrationality, and intuition)
I am aware that I live in my own little fantasy land... "jazzieland" if you will... I don't have an apartment- I just happen to sleep here I always say... I don't think I've met anyone whom has a throne in their "living" room- a gothic carousel they're building and constructing out of an old "wonder horse" (remember those plastic horses you used to sit on in the sandbox? drill a hole in the middle- use an antique cast iron rod with gorgeous detailing at the top salvaged from an old castle in France from the late 1860s, and mix some cement and I'm thinking of using an interesting large pot meant for some overgrown lush flowers you would find on the grounds of a beautiful estate type of vibe... and voila- a gothic carousel of your very own...
I get it- it's not the cookie cutter of what you and society has deemed "the norm"- but I don't care is the real point. I don't give a flying fuck to be honest... I live in my own happy little lala land that makes me feel happy and yes I walk outside with headphones on Jimi Hendrix my ride or die... and you might not stop and run across a street to take a photo of a beautiful inspiring piece of broken glass like I do- but that's ok... I'm at home when I'm on the stage, and in my studio... as a ballerina whom has been grateful of my opportunities my pointe shoes broken bones and emotional burst of pride I always danced like no one is watching because it's for me- it's how I feel and I tell you without saying one word- it has always rung true for me an artist period. I see pictures in my head- and I've seen these pictures ever since I could even remember- my dad told me recently that the teachers would ask him in for meetings because of the work I did was so drastically different from the rest of the kids in my nursery school, kindergarden (why has jazzie scratched the eyes out of these particular people...) to the family drawings which starting bringing in the therapists etc etc...) I express myself through and with my art... I get off on being "on stage" so to speak... I want to show you my work- have you judge it, I am that vulnerable because the bottom line is-- what the fuck do I have to loose... if anything- when YOU do judge it, take that time out of your busy schedules filled with your "lunch meetings" that ramble on about bullshit "projects in the works"- you may squeam at what I am fascinated by- you may run from the sight of bones or images of flesh still hanging on a bone from the Dahmer case... I zoom in and am drawn like a moth to the flame... bottom line is- we are not mind readers.... snide remarks, passive aggressive behaviors- you're really the big bitches of the world... talk behind my back and you're a scared little bitch who doesn't have the integrity (or the balls really) to say it to my face.
stop holding back
if you feel it- say it
go with your heart over your head... if not all at once... try it for one fucking day... see how it makes you feel... FEEL...
express what it is that you're feeling in an outlet of some sort. break a dish when you're fucking pissed off-
stop and compliment that stunning woman walking towards you that makes you stop and stare--- guess what COMPLIMENT HER... personally I'm a congratulator not a hater because every time someone stops me and compliments my outfit- my ballsy make up- or anything I want to burst from the genuine kindness that people surprise you with...
Xx bella
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