There are healthy internal and external expectations to have for oneself and others, yet I seem to live in the extreme - with most emotions and with life itself.
Somewhere in the grey area between the two.
The grids are representative of these planned, rigid, and set notions I have for the world and myself.
As strange as it seems, it is the very lack of expectations, or at least the lack of unrealistic expectations, that brings me serenity and the gift of what I didn’t know I wanted or needed.
A sense of entitlement and egoism lurks underneath these internal and external expectations.
I’m aware of this truth, but in the moment it’s difficult to see, especially after pouring five to six months of my heart and soul into a project – into a collection.
I’m clouded by a feeling that the world, or the people in it, owe me something.
As if God owes me something.
I’m not sure if balance can be found within the countless boundaries in the seemingly endless grid.
However, these internal and external expectations are much blurrier than I believe to be true, much like the movement within paintings of the collection.
I see things so clearly in my mind, but in reality they are often not so.
This is our battle with perception.
Of being you. Of being me.
The war is on. The art is lost.
It feels forced. Broken into two.
Only to be met with disintegration into the ether.
The never-ending grid of what we can’t see, but can only feel.