Artist Statement

I have a terrible habit of talking over people, interrupting, and cutting in to get a point across edgewise. Well, at least, I thought I did. In the moments where I catch myself doing just this, I wait, listening: tapping of the foot, gnashing of the cheek, scratching of the collar bone, picking of the skin, inspecting of the nails, tilting of the head, tossing of the voice ~ “ooo” ~ “ahh” ~. Often, though not always, the chance never comes to ENTER dialog. This is especially so within the workspace, outside among the world, yet usually not applicable to those familiar (read: friends). Well, even then. TLDR; I will probably interrupt you. I want to listen. Did you sense a…

But, after so many missed opportunities to voice name-a-thing™ barred via a certain type (a cough: cishetwhitemale) bulldozing over, being applauded for literally what I just said, and no matter how many cyclical ways of speaking meandering twisting modes of delivery of the same idea; I find my tongue increasingly dripping with venom. Would you like to hold it? 

Boisterous, loud, obnoxious, that cavalier je ne sais quoi style of cold apathetic IDGAFuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

In another frame, cut to our aforementioned ‘certain type’, and these very same characteristics would enter stage right with shoujo-framing-flowers surrounding them as confident ( sparkle ) direct ( shine ) noteworthy ( shimmer ).

It is the nuance of the word commanding: either it is nagging and irritating or it is a center frame - a leading presence worthy of any and all attention. Do I walk up to plate, swing the bat, and play ball? Or do I blow the bangs out of my face, stare dead in the eye, and unapologetically disregard that expectation-projected?