I Am.
The phrase "I am" struck me like a thunderclap as I sat contemplating my creative and personal intentions for 2025. It wasn’t just a casual reflection—it felt like a summons, a call to excavate the depths of who I have been, who I am, and who I might yet become. This simple, yet profound assertion of existence became the guiding thread for what I envision as a year-long project of self-exploration. It will weave together the strands of my artistic journey, my writing, and a deeply personal reckoning with a lifetime of medical and psychiatric experiences that, in many ways, shaped my identity.
Art has always been the lens through which I make sense of the world. As a visual artist, my creations are fragments of my soul—abstract impressions of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Over the years, I’ve built a body of work that reflects moments of transformation, loss, joy, and revelation. But how often do we, as creators, stop to revisit and truly engage with our past work? This project calls for me to look back with fresh eyes—to sift through canvases, sketches, and even discarded pieces that didn’t make it past the initial stages. It’s about understanding the "I" that existed in those moments of creation. Who was I when I painted during the isolation of the pandemic? What drove me to pick up a brush and create after months of creative drought? Revisiting my artistic archive feels like looking through old journals, each piece holding a fragment of my evolving identity.
If my art captures the essence of my emotions, my writing captures their narrative. And yet, I’ve avoided confronting certain pieces of writing for years. There are unfinished drafts, journal entries too raw to reread, and stories that feel like wounds I’ve bandaged but never allowed to heal. Writing, for me, has always been both catharsis and confrontation. It’s a space where I can’t hide from myself. As part of this project, I will dive into those neglected words—the ones I’ve buried because they demand too much honesty. This isn’t just about revising or completing old work; it’s about meeting the versions of myself that wrote them. The frightened, grieving me. The me who burned with rage at injustice. The me who dared to dream of love and fulfillment despite overwhelming doubt. Writing becomes a mirror, reflecting both the clarity and the chaos of my journey.
The third strand of this project is perhaps the most challenging. In the early 2000s, I became, in essence, a guinea pig for one of the country’s top psychiatrists during the surge of psychopharmacology. Those years were a whirlwind of diagnoses, medications, and side effects, as science raced to understand the human mind. I was not merely a patient; I was an experiment in progress. And while those years brought moments of clarity, they also left scars—physical, emotional, and spiritual. To revisit this part of my life is to confront a complicated narrative. On one hand, those years shaped my resilience and taught me the language of my own mind. On the other hand, they represent a period of vulnerability and surrender to a system that often felt coldly clinical. This project will involve unpacking medical records, piecing together fragmented memories, and giving voice to the "I" who navigated that labyrinth. It’s not just about reckoning with the past but also understanding how it informs the present.
"I am" is not merely a statement of existence; it’s an invitation to explore what it means to be. This project is not about crafting a neat, cohesive narrative of my life. Instead, it’s about embracing the messiness, the contradictions, and the unresolved questions. It’s about finding the threads of continuity in a life that often felt disjointed. Over the course of this year, I will revisit my art, my writing, and my medical history with curiosity and compassion. I will seek to understand not just the moments of transformation but also the spaces in between—the quiet, unnoticed times when I was simply existing. This is not a quest for answers but a practice of presence, of acknowledging the "I am" that persists through every change, challenge, and triumph.
As I embark on this journey, I’m reminded of the power of storytelling—not just the stories we tell others but the ones we tell ourselves. Who am I when I strip away the roles, the labels, and the expectations? Who am I in my art, my words, and my memories? Who am I in the stillness of simply being? This project is not just a year-long endeavor; it’s a commitment to living fully, honestly, and authentically. It’s a reminder that, no matter where I’ve been or where I’m going, I am.
