So I will be an artist. I will paint the end of the world. I will show Humanity who they are. I will hold a mirror to Humanity so they will never forget their power.
I became an artist in 2022, when I felt like I could not hold on anymore. I had been awake for 2 years and become more awake each minute since. Where I once saw hope in Humanity, I could only see hate, and I couldn’t continue in that world anymore. Where I once longed to be part of the “white crossover club” of Suburban moms with perfectly ascetic homes and lovely kids with no problems, with a husband who looks like a Ken doll in pictures and at least one well behaved dog, I knew now that that was only an imaginary fantasy pushed by Capitalists onto me to keep me asleep. I knew the world was bigger, and that Humanity was out there somewhere, fighting to survive. I had to search for it, I had to. So, I decided to pursue art. I wanted to use tactile media and not digital. It was important that whatever I did could survive past what I very much feared was eventually coming for us all, an apocalypse. I believed (and still do) that our technology will eventually betray us, as it will be captured by greedy men who want to manipulate the machine to make them richer. So, whatever I did could not depend on anything they can touch. I began drawing in a notebook. I would draw faces, and I was terrible at it. But, I didn’t care. I looked up pictures of martyrs, heroes, resisters, etc from all over the world. I read about them, and what they did for their people during times of persecution and oppression, and then I studied their faces while drawing them. I did this every single day. I did it while I was supposed to be sleeping, working, attending a PTA meeting, or participating in family functions. I slowly began to shed the programming that had kept me stuck for so long, while focusing on the faces of people who I will never meet, from places I will never go, and I began to heal. I will never forget these people. Here are a couple of my first faces.
Mahsa Amini was a 22-year-old woman from northwest Iran. She was arrested in Tehran for allegedly violating laws requiring women to wear a headscarf. While in detention, she was beaten into a coma and died three days later on September 16th, 2022. Her death sparked protests in solidarity with her and has been a significant show of opposition on Iran's streets.
Hadis Najafi was an Iranian woman who was murdered after being shot in Mehrshahr, Karaj, during the 2022 Iranian protests following the death of Mahsa Amini. Her death has been widely reported in international media, and like Amini before her, Najafi also became a symbol of female empowerment and the ongoing protests against the Iranian government.
Eventually, I could not sustain my job any longer. So, I had to resign. And, because I had to resign my job I couldn’t continue paying my mortgage, so I had to sell my house. While I packed my boxes filled with a lifetime of possessions and memories, I knew I couldn’t carry it all with me to the next place. I was changing quickly, and it felt like destiny. So, I made two piles. One was items that meant something to me, that I WANTED to carry with me going forward, and the other pile was filled with items that I wasn’t willing to carry any longer. Some of these things meant a lot to me in my past life, and I was grateful for these memories as I piled up item after item in the “donate” pile. Throughout this process, I continued to draw the faces of Humanity. I was getting better, and had acquired supplies and portfolios full of sketches of people. When I was drawing, nothing else mattered. While the fantasy world I had bought into around me faded, I became happier. It wasn’t the kind of happiness anyone could see. It was the kind of happiness that lived somewhere deep inside me where no one else could ever see. It was there for me, and no one else. My soul was free, and happy. And, even though I was uncomfortable all the time (I was once very used to luxury, accommodation, and comfort) I was happy. I wanted to keep going on this path. So, I did.
There I was, ready for the next chapter of my life, but not knowing what it was. I knew that I didn’t want to do it like I was doing it before. I didn’t want to slave for the Capitalistic Oligarchs in order to acquire more things that I now knew would never make me happy. I knew that I would most likely still need to work at a job in order to pay for basic necessities like food, rent, electricity, water, sewer, and health care. However, I refused to allow that job to interfere with my desire to continue to learn and become a better artist. By then, I had begun learning to paint with oil paints. Heavily inspired and influenced by, in my opinion, a true American Hero, Bob Ross. In my estimation, Bob Ross used his art to spread hope for Humanity to the masses for over 50 years, and that’s beautiful. I set off to create Art for Humanity. I was still painting faces, and it was still feeding my soul every minute of every day.
Weighted with the desire for further awakening and inspiration, I decided to move across the country, to a place I had never been, with only me and my husband (and or dog Matilda and cat Sister). I craved solitude and isolation. I craved being in a busy city surrounded by strangers. So, I moved to Raleigh NC. I found a rental house and a job to sustain the bills, and set off to painting faces every day. The old programmed me would like to tell you that I worked hard at that job, but I did not. As a matter of fact, I barely worked at all, but instead continued honing my skills in painting/artist. After a few months, I had to resign that job and find a different one. Copy Paste Repeat another 5 jobs, and two years later, I had honed my skills to a point where I was beginning to be proud of my work.
You should sell your work
Yeah, maybe I will
Then came another dark period, riddled with what I would soon learn was “artist block.” I didn’t realize this at the time, but the block stemmed from the idea of selling my work, Capitalizing my art, monetizing. I had spent almost 4 years deprogramming myself out of that mindset, and now I was being called to utilize that once again. And, suddenly, I couldn’t see clearly. Humanity was once again lost to me.
I became irritable and angry all the time, on the outside. As I felt this feeling for what felt like the 1st time in this moment, I realized that what I was angry at was myself. The thought of competing, showing my art, pricing my art, selling my art, etc. Was exactly the opposite of why I became an artist to begin with. I didn’t want to “market” Humanity. And, selling my art felt like the same thing. So, I didn’t. I decided to continue to improve instead. And, as soon as the pressure to sell resided, I was able to center myself and paint once again. And, I created some of my favorite pieces during this period. I showed my art to my carefully cultivated FYP, that included none of the people I knew in my real life, and reveled in the support that poured out. It felt like for the first time, I was seen. I had created work that truly represented how my soul saw Humanity. And, people liked it. Almost immediately after showing that series, messages began flooding in online. Inquiries into purchasing my art, finding my website, supporting my journey.
At the time I didn’t need the money. I was working as a Medicaid Social Worker in North Carolina. My salary was enough to support my art and pay my bills. I could do the job remotely, and that allowed me time to do art outside of my working hours. I wasn’t going to have to resign this job, it was perfect.
Then it was announced that America’s Dictator, the head Coporate Oligarch himself, had decided to wipe out American Democracy with the stroke of his pen, at the behest and bribe of the Eugenics Mafia. Medicaid was about to be wiped out, and my job security was once again threatened. Further, more people were going to suffer. And, lots of people were going to die. Again. Pandemic part 2, but with an added layer of cruelty for the sake of profit.
I decided not to wait to be laid off. It was time to return home, to Minnesota, and fall directly into my safety net. I once again began to pack boxes, making two piles, and deciding what I was willing to carry with me. And, once again, fit everything I own into a trailer and moved across the country. This time, moving in with my mom, as I had no money, no job prospects, no health insurance, and very little hope.
I will continue this artistic journey until the end. While the world I once knew and loved burns around me, I will pick out the pieces of Humanity that speak directly to my soul, and create beautiful and heartbreaking art. I hope you enjoy it.
Melissa
