serendipity

(how i see art)

they think that art needs to be beautiful. i think that art needs to be angry. loud and catastrophic.

because they see art in intricate strokes of blue and green but i see art in my father's eyes; grey and exhausted of the country that rejects him because he's unable to string the english language in careful sentences.

i see art in the calluses on my mother's palms. she claims that all she does is knead dough, someone tell her she's built more than just a home.

i see art in a black woman who they belittled as a child, told her that she'd be nothing, that she'd never be at the top. spoiler alert: they all work for her now.

i see art in a woman giving birth to her son after two miscarriages at 3:06 in the morning. the rest of the world is dead but she's never felt more alive.

i see art everywhere and nowhere just at once. my heart is captivated by things that scream fury. it is captivated by things which screams empathy and not beauty.

i do not think that art needs to be pretty. it needs to be powerful.

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love love love - s