Shalagh 

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However, I don't see myself as an individual or an artist

 

Here you go,

my bio,

an attempt to distinguish myself as an individual,  

an artist, 

with the hopes of selling you on my work 

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and have no definition as to what my art is therefore I cannot try and sell you on it. 

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Growing up in an art museum 

My dad is an art collector.

Which is an understatement. 

The house is plastered floor to ceiling in Art. He could tell you a story behind each piece, its estimated value, era and origin. 

There is not one medium, style, or category of art that you wouldn’t be able to find in the house. 

From an early age art began to embed itself into me,

art speaks to you 

Art makes you ask the questions 

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What is this form of creation?

Why did it comes to exist?  

Where did it come from?

Why was it made? and

why is it all so god damn weird.
 

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addicted to creation 
 

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My dad was the stimulant, and my mom the supplier. I grew up with both parents as teachers, and for anyone who can relate, this just means an excessive amount of art supplies in the house.

 

My first memory is writing my name down and I remember it so clearly because it was the first time I remember
feeling powerful.
 

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Your eyes.

What have these beautiful tools done to our perception of art.


What have they extracted the meaning of this practice is?

Have they taken away the true beauty of art, by trying to define beauty?

Do they make us believe something is or isn’t

 

what it is,

 

or isn’t,

When what if it was never meant to

be anything at all.


It was only meant to be.


That is what I see,

i see 
 

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I created alot of art growing up but 


 

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The self portrait 

For the majority of my life I saw them as a way to document how I looked. However, after my first attempt at an abstract portrait, I began to realize they were speaking for much more than just looks. 

One late night in August, in the basement of my grandmas house I whipped up this little number 

 


 

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It was done during one of the darkest points in my life. Addiction to an adhd medication was consuming my mind. 

I felt robotic,

like a stimulate controlled substance 

trapped within the confines of a system,

under mind control of one little orange pill.

 


 

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It wasn't until months after I had gotten over the addiction that I looked back at the piece and understood its meaning. 


 

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the creation of art is a conversation with the soul 

 


 

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Art is how I

understand my world

 

that is it

and that is all 

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