My roommate is an artist. A real artist. Everything she does astonishes me. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to overflow with creativity the way she does. Now she’s included me in her most recent artwork. I’ve never felt so honored.
It’s a deeply emotive piece depicting human trafficking. Four women (of which I am one) have climbed out of a boiling pot of water and are standing on the edge about to jump off. Below them, a malevolent man with an outstretched hand waits to catch them as they fall. The other two pieces depict me being dropped from his hand and being flicked across the globe. I wish I could show them on here, but I don’t even know if that’s legal. My words certainly do not do justice to her concept.
I’m passionate about stories. It’s incredible to me that I’ve been given the opportunity to lend my body to the telling of such an important and tragic one. That’s why I wish I could attend Mars Hill Graduate School. Its philosophy is tied up in the essence of stories, art, text, experience. Unfortunately, there’s no way I could afford such an education after Taylor, but hopefully I can find a way to create my own Mars Hill wherever I end up. A community built on story. That’s what I want.
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2 comments:
wow. what an honor!
i wish i could see it :( tell her she is amazing already in my eyes...
you will create that school.....
you already have :)
that was me....
anna :)
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