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like any romantic, poetry fascinates me. metaphors fascinate me. i’m not yet sure if i do justice to them, but i try. for quite some time now i’ve wondered if art is art, or it has purpose. i think i have come to a conclusion; art is indeed just art, but it reflects different shades depending on who views it, or creates it. there seems to be this noise surrounding the futility of romantic notions towards the world. people now want more, they demand that you step out of the bubble wrap and give them art the likes of which they’ve never seen before. you are expected to do this each time. art is no longer for you, and if it is you are pandering to the masses. it has taken me some time, but i think i know where i stand in this argument; i believe i stand somewhere in the midst of it all. to write for yourself is not a sin, but to do that constantly is depriving people of art they can see themselves in. it’s a shame.

and so through this blog, i am going to cater to both; myself and the vision. i would like to be soft and silly and in love, while also trying to be original and wholly new. there is a challenge here, for i like cliches. i adore the things we romanticize simply because we think we need to; there is familiarity there. but i also feel an insane desire to be new, to be of some worth that isn’t borrowed. which is why i am in search of venus. venus was refreshing, she was a warrior goddess and yet the patron of love. venus to me is an enigma. i am in search of venus; i am in search of love and of purpose.

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