Trauma That Births Artistry
From Pain to Purpose: How Adversity Shaped My Artistic Voice
In my first article, I discussed how interacting with people in academia and the professional sector has been revealing when it comes to being from Newark, New Jersey. In this article, I want to explore the origins of my artistry and how my life experiences have shaped my mind.
Some artists find their voice, purpose, or talent through school, public events, or by happenstance. For me, my origins are more aligned with the latter. I began by drawing flowers of different types, shapes, sizes, and colors. I believe flowers were my first subject for two reasons: first, they are easier to draw than cartoon characters or scenery; and second, perhaps they became a way to mourn myself—to grieve my mental health, my environment, and, in some ways, my innocence.
Living in a place like Newark has moments of happiness and laughter, but it also has moments of sorrow and pain. During my time in elementary school, from second through fifth grade, I was severely bullied by my classmates. Why? Sometimes because I was new to a school. Other times because a classmate—who was my main bully—offered junk food to others as an incentive to target me. And sometimes simply because of the way I carried myself.
What I mean by “the way I carried myself” is that, from fourth to fifth grade, I was experiencing trauma that I would not wish on my worst enemy. My outward appearance reflected the turmoil I was going through. No one at school knew, and neither did my family. Children can be cruel—they are often unfiltered, attention-seeking, and eager to fit in. I was going through something deeply painful at the wrong time and in the worst place.
The creativity seen in my paintings and drawings is rooted in that pain and sorrow. It also draws from my happiest moments, when I find myself creating colorful and lighthearted work. When I create, it feels like placing my hand into a candy jar. I cannot tell whether it is blackened because it was painted that way or because it is coated in something darker. What I do know is that I feel shapes resembling KitKats, Twix, lollipops, Laffy Taffy, Tootsie Rolls, and Mentos. I never know what I will get until I pull my hand out and rinse off the candy to understand what it truly is.
This article is not written to invite sympathy. Rather, it is a window into my mind—a glimpse into the foundation of my artistry. The violence I witnessed while living in Newark is difficult to put into words. The trauma I experienced, however, has created a path for me to express myself through creativity.
Hearing people wail and scream after losing a loved one to gang violence or drug-related disputes is deafening. Seeing candles lined along doorsteps or against the walls of convenience stores as memorials is both blinding and heartbreaking. Experiences like these can desensitize you, both as a child and as an adult. They can lead you to isolate yourself in ways you never imagined.
The most frightening moments of my life gave rise to my creativity—and to some of the most beautiful pieces I have ever created. I hold my academic achievements to the same standard. Anyone who has lived, or is living, in difficult conditions—mentally, physically, emotionally, or financially—can find a path forward.
Academia and my artistry are mine.
