Leashing a dark cloud and guiding it exactly where to pour when I could no longer hold the weight of the stream filling in my orbs to hide a waterfall that tastes like saline; wet but drying. And as it bathes my skin, I feel a sense of scratching under it: a bit ticklish and a biting sensation of pain making me recall what left and what\'s only left. Suddenly, everything around me became detailed and sharp. I remember the weight of that white chair as I drag it resembling how heavy my heart felt that day. I see images of how we used it during celebrations — a gathering of a loving family. And I\'d like to count how big we are but I would no longer come up with the same exact number. The next day I found myself in this place which was once a garden, I\'ve never stepped on it for months while the flowers inside me grow but here I am, an oasis in a crying land waiting for me so we could reunite again and death is the bridge.
What am I doing here? It was the force behind my feet pushing me forward, commanding my step not to walk but to act on something. And the screaming voices of the small people living in my head, too loud to be spoken. I\'ve felt that I need to make something because I must. And I could not deny how great it felt as I ran outside with my camera, my tripod, and the white chair and how my feet felt the dust blowing in every step, a warm afternoon indeed. But the coldness I feel froze my lips, preventing them to make a single move. My tears became rain watering the death under my feet.
Have you ever gotten off the bed and gone out to do something out of the plan? It is amazing how emotions have like switch buttons that could change how we feel instantly. I have learned that emotions and how we respond to them lie in who we are and who we identify ourselves with. And for us (artists), when perhaps things are too much to keep inside, it creates a hole or a crack on our body where it bleeds out beautifully so we could be a little more gentle on ourselves as it creates a monument — a masterpiece to commemorate how brave and strong you stood on your feet that day, no matter how wet and soft the ground is from your tears.
\"Nimbus\"
Self portrait, , Dec 2021
Jestir Jan Abella, Philippines, Poblacion Burgos
