creative director

poetic living; peace warrior; writer; philosopher

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Photographer Caitlin Fullam asked me a question before we walked out into freshly fallen snow on a mountainside forest only fifteen minutes from my home: “What would you want to do, if you could do anything, as your dream job? Hands-down.”

I’ve had people ask me this question before, but in this instant, I really felt inspired to speak with the true genuineness of my heart’s desire because Caitlin has such an honest grace about her.

“A Creative Director, I’m not exactly sure what kind or what exactly I want that to mean, but I value art and I value artists. I may not be particularly talented at any one medium, but I love planning, creating, and leading. I have a love and appreciation for so many art forms, and I think in this way, I’m able to express the many artists I have inside of me. Right now, I’m itching to express, to explode all of the creationism within and make my visions come to fruition.”

I love seeing what people specialize in; cinematography, fashion design, makeup artists, studio artists, photographers, I’m constantly in awe. I’ve always been a writer and poet myself, but I’m still looking for the way I want to express all of the creations still trapped inside of me.

Costume/fashion design, makeup, pose directives, modeling, by me. Photography goddess and directive inspirationalist, Caitlin Fullam. Together we found the perfect scene for this shoot. I also want to thank makeup artist Sydney Nicole for helping me practice my makeup before I took my own shot at it on the day of the shoot.

This shoot was based on one of my fairytale poems; a single poem of a full collection. This one is loosely inspired by Little Red Riding Hood and a mixture of dark and light points in my own life. To showcase my creativity, I am releasing a series of nature and fairytale inspired, high fashion photography ideas created by me to reflect these poems. My intention is to one day put them all together and see a full body of my work; if my photo series end up getting great feedback from all of you, I hope to release my fairytale poetry collection soon.

[inspiration-and-motivation]

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I’m starting to learn what brings an authentic smile to my face. On the coldest mountain top, I’m finding what brings warmth to me. Let a camera look right into my eyes and I’ll tell you a story that’ll take you completely by surprise. Pc: ashlihara

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There are going to be people in your life who won’t understand your motives or philosophy. Don’t let his discourage you; don’t let this leave you feeling insecure. Sometimes these people will be the ones that are closest to you; other times, these people will be a mass of strangers. I’m trying to learn to take action without anyone’s approval but my own. If you understand your dreams, even just the beginnings of one, go after it. Start there.  PC: @ashlihara 

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I have found peace in robotic feet. Ever since I survived cancer, I’ve silenced my voice. I was scared into facing inward; Rubbing out sores Licking wounds In hiding, I have been to therapy weekly; I have hunted every demon. The greatest thunderstorms are in an aching mind. But I have been healing; I have been religiously seeking the parts of me I insist to be. I discovered my broken parts in an elevated tundra. Land-locked myself and refused to leave until I could look into the mirror again. The longer hair The curls The scars of lives and legs past The cords still attached to every heart-breaking moment and phantoms of what once belonged. I realized you can call all of it whatever you want to. I can no longer only think all of this through I’m about to let you hear my battle cry. I will yell my voice into every sunrise; Rise, rise, rise. I am on the brink of release. 

📸: @ashlihara

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I don’t care if my body interrupts your projections of the ideal. You won’t hold me back because my body interrupts your expectations. If we can learn to be comfortable with where we are, we can be comfortable with where everyone else is, too. pc: @ashlihara

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My words:

No tragedy can get your attention (like your own). I shakily bring forth cupped hands to receive. The cold air rocks my organs and reminds me I’m alive. It reminds me that if I can’t find the courage to receive I’m only contributing to my own tragedy. I am contributing to the story where Tracy gives and gives but never heals from the return of the love she puts forth. Can I truly give love if I cannot receive it? This is the repeating chorus to every song of meaning and to every inkling of a thirst for purpose.

pc: @ashlihara (her instagram)

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Read my previous post entitled “Look what I found” ; I named it after a Lady Gaga song that I found to be incredibly moving. Picture taken by Ashli Hara 

#create #move #dance #bemoved #cancersurvivor #colors #morethaninspiration #artist #lookwhatifound #ladygaga #astarisborn #amputee #athlete #healing #creativedirector #creativewriting #openheart #selflove #starlitskies #peacewarrior #learning #seeing #psychic #strength #lettinggo #daretobemoved

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“Look what I found”

I want to turn these clicking letters into piano keys and play you a masterpiece. I’m writing a dance; the wave of passion flowing from more than just my hands. I am a contortionist of thought; I am inspired not by danger but by irony; the ability for a sailboat to survive tossing seas. I laugh maniacally and nervousness racks my fingertips with an energy I’m not sure I can bear to you. But I need to stop assuming that you can’t understand.

My forte is bringing starlit skies into my body. Repeated rhythms soothe me and I can’t choose a favorite color. Every part of the spectrum moves differently. I’ve learned that improvisation works best when you’re not sure which color you feel or which color you see. I don’t want to lose the moment to be lavender or ice blue; I want to be moved by every movement.

I rather be moved than inspired. I rather lose than gain what I’m not supposed to. I find peace in not knowing; I find releasing in moving to this beat: to just jam it out below my fingertips and to yell and sing even if I crack. I’m learning to play; I’m learning to let go and move to release this body from chains and silent screams; I have not cut off any part of my soul but I’ve gained more by letting go.

My leg is gone but I’m moving better than I ever have, and I see more colors than I’ve ever comprehended before.

Can you say what you really want to say?

You can’t stop me and you shouldn’t let anything stop you either.

Dare to be moved.

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Let Bipeds Be Bygones. 

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Let Bipeds Be Bygones

Maybe I imagined my life looking more desirable than it does. I can’t say I envisioned a trailer park in the mountains of Colorado, but I’m here. I’m working a job barely getting by with two degrees that only seem like a few professorial praises and an occasional Dean’s List letter in the mail. But how soon I’ve already forgotten where I once was.

When I was longing for change from the inside of a towering city hospital getting poison in my veins, I was dreaming of life not only outside of it, but life beyond it. I was longing for the time I could reflect from a place of victory and disbelief.

I am as far along now in my personal growth than I ever have been. I’m addressing dark places that have gone long ignored, and I’m doing the difficult work of healing from familial abuse, relational abuse, disease, self-hatred, and facing the loss of a sport and an identity I sold my soul to for a lifetime. I am mourning the death of my left leg.

Today feels like the greatest battle I’ve ever faced. I feel like this every morning, but I have to train myself to exist differently. Climbing has become a venue for me to train both my body and my mind. I don’t have to wear my prosthetic limb, and this is the most freeing feeling. I have sores oozing puss in my groin, and I have chapped skin rubbed raw and scabbing every day. But when I’m climbing, all of that drifts away for a few minutes while I’m suspended in the air. 

I have so much more to say, but for now: Let bipeds be bygones.

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As I am. 

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My Battle Cry

I didn’t fight cancer for my life so I could be an inspiration; I fought for the chance to figure out who I aspire to be. Only now am I truly facing the difficult, unabashed battle of self-discovery no longer held back by the bounds of basic survival, and I’m inviting you to witness my becoming. I finished chemotherapy two years ago, and I’ve been sifting through the rubble of who I once was ever since. The poison that saved my life burned away old attachments, opened new wounds, and made me see the sludge of people’s imposed projections of who I was or what my life should look like; this sludge filled my belly and made me nauseated with self-suppression. The most freeing realization I’ve come to is that the greatest strength I’ll ever have to muster is the will to decide how I want to spend my life, who I’ll spend time with, the simple joys or hobbies I’ll seek, and the dreams I’ll chase after and chose to edit daily.

Facing my mortality and thinking about death every day as I watched parts of my body go missing pales in comparison to my fear of figuring out who I am or what I might find when I do. But I’m now no longer willing to live this lifetime hating myself for not knowing myself. I reject the sludge rising to my throat and choking my self-expression until I give myself over to the thoughts, opinions, and wills of others, much less a disease. This is my battle cry.

Take a walk with me as I clomp around with a titanium-limb addition to my destiny and realize that the greatest inspiration you’ll find in life lies within you.