I used to be a good writer.

I used to be a good writer.
Back in the days, putting words together used to be easy and feel natural to me. That was the way I used to manage to put my emotions and thoughts out – someway, somehow.
As I continue to grow old, I realized that words aren’t enough. Nowadays they seem to constrain my thoughts by the fact of using words to describe feelings that I can actually SEE.

Maybe I was too rational.
Maybe when I was younger I never really noticed the colors and shapes in my thoughts and it was easier to just label them.

How come I would write and not paint all the colors I heard? All the shapes I saw in music, all the textures I felt in visions?

Later on I found out that I actually had some sort of a super power.
Those that sometimes you don’t really see some good in it but it helps you in mysterious (and not so mysterious) ways.

I keep believing on that super power because I grew up listening that “an image speaks better than thousand words”. Today my art proves me that.
What I work on a day could visually resume my 30 years life. The few colors I could use on a poster gives me more goosebumps than a 250 pages book about that artwork. I’ve managed to paint feelings that I could never really spoke about.

And above all, I believe on that super power because all the dreams I have are visions – either I’m asleep or not. Either I’ve experienced them in person or if they’re just in my head. They’re all this intense and intriguing mixture of sights, textures, colors, lights, darkness and feelings.
Above all, feelings. Indescribable ones.

That’s why I’m a good visual artist, not a good writer any longer.

For our sight’s sake.