ɴᴏʀᴛʜᴇʀɴ ᴀʀᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ — ❝ ɪꜰ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏꜱᴛ? ❞
That’s the question I live with every day. I am a creator, a weaver of worlds, but unlike most artists, my works aren’t confined to canvas or paper. When I paint, I don’t just capture beauty — I bring it 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚. Every stroke, every color, every symbol I use has the power to reshape the fabric of reality itself.
But power like this always comes with a price. It’s not the paint or the canvas that costs me — it’s the 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 I trade to bring these 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. My art can create wonders, but it can also summon nightmares. I’ve learned that even the smallest details can have unintended consequences, that a single line can change the course of someone’s life forever.
I walk the line 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, always wondering what will happen when the art I create begins to unravel me. Still, I paint. Because I can’t stop. 𝘼𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. And as I stand before my next canvas, I ask myself again: ❝ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏꜱᴛ? ❞
currently open for plotting, long conversations & plays, just hit me up! Side note: this blog runs on a queue. Posting ≠ Answering! match making sheet + pinterest + prompts + writings + starter call
