World of Yellow Pursuit as I carry every piece of me I tell a story
My Goal with my digital art creation, my worldly avocation, was through a mere action of selfish pursuit. It didn’t matter to me that others entirely saw my work, it just mattered to me that I created a space where I could exist in this digital realm. I didn’t care about being perceived and if then compared to now i still don’t hold attachment to this outsider perception. What mattered to me was and still is, me. Created out of feelings of loneliness, eager, anger, trip, and dimensionality. I felt driven by my higher self in a way that I forget most of the time how I layer, drag, deconstruct and glitch images over and over again.
I noticed throughout my work that I was always trying to find, connect and tell a story with all these pieces of me. Specifically photographs, writings, secrets and spills. Encoded into my world’s i’d never prepare for a person to unravel the script. I never intended to be read. What I intended for was existence and being.

I figured, if I feel isolated in the real world, how can I create a space for myself through a place of expression and exploration? I always subconsciously communicated with myself in ways of body, sporadically indulged interests or random thoughts that occurred to me. And even then, I felt as if I didn’t want to be seen through the body I was presenting. So I made sure others who read my words couldn't translate, they could not understand.
Because I am outside and you have eyes you think you can read me? I am establishing boundary and rift. A wall where you can only peak through how much I lower.
I believe that in a way i left the present moment and walked into my own state of vibration,







where color knows no bounds and where my rhythm is beautifully unjust. Zig zags and turns are celebrated and all these steps accumulate into their own dance. Through this journey of my world I wonder of my musicality? Will my fingers take control once more to scrape the corners of my dome? I pray to the God above she hears my cries, but to those named of them I only weep. Take my hand, consume me and create what I cannot see. But nevertheless I am not a God. And I have always seen. Through every glimpse I take and memory I carry, I come to you, as a story, celebrating every part of me.

For a while now I have been figuring out my own life of blend and my own life of color. I constantly reflect upon how that shows up in my writing, photos and video.



This is my most recent and final piece of media that I’ve created since. I wouldn’t call this one of my favorites at all, but I think that the venting of this video was needed.



Now, it is the closing of the school semester and as my duration of being a sophomore ends, I walk into summer.



My summer of Color.