On August 6, we experimented with black out poetry. And as the school year launched on this day, I found my poem particularly ironic. I would rather submit an image, but I marked out a few letters by accident. So I hope a typed replacement will suffice.
This year
is
depicting
feeling
and
some creative role.
Existing
is
now on display.
In many ways does this poem resonate with me. One presents itself clearly: the mention of creativity. This year, my junior year, I reside at Mississippi School of the Arts (MSA). Two others schools have aided me academically, but this upper high school stands as the first to provide artistic education, available to me and other talented individuals that survived admission. Not only does this environment tolerate creativity, it also encourages artistic growth and out-of-the-box thinking. So I would assume that a creative role is inevitable, and I am thrilled about developing my writing and progressing as an author.
Another word caught my attention: feeling. Although getting accepted into MSA requires artistic potential, I have always struggled with favoring the left side of my brain. I am aware that the theory of left-brain and right-brain thinking is not exactly science, but consider it from a metaphorical perspective. Even now I utilize this left side. I would rather branch out and express myself in vivid poetry, or I would rather experiment with quirky blog prompts. But I refrain because the logic says otherwise, arguing that the notion is simply too extravagant, too unnecessary, too “out-there”. The right side, mumbling something about emotional expression, fades from view, and I trust the left side even though I do not always want to. But here, immersed in this environment, logic does not feel so complacent, and I await change and the appearance of unhinged artistic expression. Granted, filters should always remain, but I would rather creativity not mumble.
To the other artists experiencing an infestation of logic: I encourage you to find a community or environment that inspires you, even if that means sitting by a window instead of something wild (like spontaneously moving to another country). Do not allow your artistic voice to wither.
Finally, to conclude my first blog edition, I want to address the ending of the poem: “Existing is now on display”. This resonates with me the most, as it partially defines the life of an artist. We almost exist on display, the products of our creativity self-reflective. Even if we aim to capture an idea or another person, a piece of us will always find its way in; it is inevitable. Writers especially leave a bit of themselves in every page, and I find that particularly beautiful.
Well, existing is now on display, I assume. So exist greatly and with purpose.