Makeup

Here’s the thing. I’m a man, and I’m okay with that. There’s nothing I felt was special or exciting about that. But I was okay with that. I’m a man, I was a boy, I’ve always been male.

But the struggle I’ve had with gender identity is that of limitation. Being said you can’t wear high heels, you can’t play with dolls, you can’t read romances, and you can’t cry or wear makeup (unless you’re in theatre.) And for some people that’s fine. They don’t want to wear makeup. But I do. At least every now and then.

The funny thing is, that there’s still a part of me that can’t make a moral argument for the blending of gender-assigned symbols. Ok. Like I think it’s right, but I have no reasoning or argument behind it, it just feels like it should be right. I can see friends of mine questioning that aspect of this project. And I’m not sure how I would respond. I think in part I would like to say, “Just look at the pictures. How can that be wrong? They are beautiful.” And I guess that’s part of my internal debate. Is beauty an argument? A valid argument?

I do hope it is.

But without further ado.

JAndrewGilbertChizuknok and JakeNoahVerBeekChizuknok LongkumertrioJakeSchottSebastianJalaNoah and Andrew

 

I’d like to clarify that the models had very little knowledge of what words I’d write here about these pictures. They might agree, disagree, ignore, pretend to think one way or another, I don’t know. So, everything here is my opinion and mine only. Though you’re welcome to share of it.
Photography: Mimi Mutesa
Make-up artist: Nelson Bates
Models:
Noah Ver Beek
J. Andrew Gilbert
Sebastian Jala
Chizuk Longkumer
Jake Schott

Your support means a lot to me: it helps me keep going. So if you’d like to stay updated with the webcomic make sure to follow the blog – button is off to the side!
You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.
Advertisements

An Open Letter to the Church, from a Queer Guy

 

Dear Church,

Two disclaimers to start off. First, We don’t have to agree, we could both be wrong. Second, I’ll use the term “gay” or “gays” to refer to the LGBTQ+ community in a broader sense.

I had a lot to say. But there’s already so many people’s voices, and so much already being discussed and said. Just do a google search and you’ll find different voices, different opinions on all sides. So I’ll keep this brief.

The two cents I wanted to add is this: Some of us from the LGBTQ+ community already go to church. We’re already here, sitting in the pews, listening, listening, listening.

What was hard for me, about my relationship with you, wasn’t necessarily everything that was said – a lot of what you taught me was good and enriching and beautiful. But I think that every time we talked about gays, we talked as if they were outside the church, rather than right there, like I was.

Most of the time it the conversation emphasized the us and them, this complete separation of gays and Christians. It was as if church members and LGBTQ+ community members were like water and oil, never mixing. Even when I’m here saying this, it feels like I for a brief moment have to exclude myself from you and only be in the gay community.  Almost, as if I can’t be in both. Which is not true. I’m a part of both communities.

But there I was listening. The hurtful things were said because you didn’t see I was there, listening; you thought I was outside of your community. And I understand, it’s not the easiest to take off the lenses that you received from those before you.

But, please, remember.

We’re here, with you. We sit next to you, helping out with kid’s ministry, assisting in worship and service, every Sunday.

Please, remember.

We are your daughters, brothers, best friends, and cousins.

We’re right here, and we’re listening. So please, listen to your friend and their struggles when they come out. Listen.

One last remark is that I do not in any way represent the entire gay community. We’re all so different, with different stories and experiences within and outside of your community. Some of us have been ostracized, some of us have left you by choice, some of us struggle to remain friends, and I’m sure there must be some of us who are doing just fine with the way things are.

My experience with you, I have found to be one of the best ones out there, and it saddens me when I find out about many others who have had it harder than me, being rejected and from their communities and families.

Thank you so much for your time, your patience in listening to my complaint. I’ll strive to work for a better relationship between me and you. I know we’re still figuring this all out, and it’s hard and complicated. But thank you for trying, for caring. We’re all human, and we all make mistakes.

Sincerely,

Andrew Gilbert


I have wanted to write something like this for the longest time. I only found the courage to finally post this after a recent Sunday when the Calvin College pastor, Pastor Mary, talked about the subject in a very loving and caring way. The sermon was recorded and can be watched here.
Also please note that the way she talks about it, while still holds onto a “us” and “them,” paradigm she acknowledges this and confesses the difficulties of bridging this divide.
If you want to engage the whole debate of whether homosexual activity, two persons of same sex getting in a relationship, is correct or not, I ask that you do that in private, rather than out and loud here. I just want to keep it more civil. Also, some literature that I’d recommend before you fly at all the arguments out there, would be:
Torn, by Justin Lee
What Does the Bible Really Teach about Homosexuality?, by Kevin DeYoung
Bible, Gender and Sexuality, by James V. Brownson
Washed and Waiting, by Wesley Hill
I’m sure there’s other ones I’m skipping, but this can be a good starting place.
I also recommend listening to this episode of the Liturgists Podcast that definitely made me cry when I listened to it.
Lastly, if you can’t afford the books, either money or time-wise, a good place to find some reading material could be here. Though some of the reading material might make you uncomfortable. Look under “blogs,” for free accessible material.

An Exploration of the Colors of Memories and Identity

Nostalgia1

I started this series on one of those days where I felt left behind by myself. My past self looked at present me and felt disappointed.

“You changed. We’re not the same anymore.”

But who is this past self?

Because when I look back so many of my memories are muddled together. They’re like shifting sands, they’re inconsistent, constantly reshaping and retelling themselves. Little details are filled in by a brain that I’m not sure I can trust.

Do you remember that tree stump you stood on and declared to the world your love for life and the skies?

Nostalgia6

But I still have this sense of identity. This Andrewness that is me. I recognize myself as sensitive, playful and imaginative. I’m often sad, but I can have a lot of fun as well. I’m disorganized and impulsive, and rarely finish my projects.

Do you remember the tree you and your friends climbed and you would sit in for hours talking about something, and you called it the “Cow’s Tree,” or maybe it was “Bull’s Tree”?

Nostalgia2

There’s specifics of my own personal life-story.

I was born in Anápolis, in Brazil, but lived most of my life in Viçosa. A college town, populated with hills and pot-holes and a beautiful sunset every day. I lived with my parents and 3 siblings, all of whom I had very different relationships with, and their different quirks interacted with mine to bring me here where I find myself studying Fine Arts at a Christian Reformed college.

Do you remember that keyhole you looked through, trying to see what was on the other side?

Nostalgia7

Sometimes, if I don’t interact with someone from Brazil, it feels like my existence in Brazil was a parallel world completely disconnected from today. How do I know I’m the same person? The one who left Brazil behind for a college degree seems so different from the one writing this blog post. Sometimes I need to call my parents, or hear my friend’s voice to remember it all happened.

Do you remember the nose and lips, of that first kiss?

Nostalgia4

But then, the memories I have, even if they seem so obscure, uncertain, and limited, they still inform my decisions, thoughts and feelings today. What I believe in or not is informed by those memories. I unconsciously choose to believe in these and live by these memories.

Do you remember that flower you plucked for your mother?

Nostalgia5

Memories are often connected with our material senses. Which I think is incredible. Many people write diaries, and in those visual symbols they re-find their memories. There is that smell that reminds you of that hug right before you left. Or that soft humid smell that breathes with the air from where you came. There’s that touch that brings back memories of when we were.

We keep old objects: the baby’s shoes, or the wedding dress, the books and sketchbooks we filled. A t-shirt or mug from this place or event. Souvenirs of our travels to remind ourselves of the past, of where we were, what we did, but also who we are. We pin memories to physical, sensorial, and bodily experiences.

Do you remember those chubby fingers you had as a 6-year old?

Nostalgia10

This is why, especially older people, are so preoccupied with pictures. They knew what I didn’t as a kid. That you forget things, everything changes. You move different places, leaving friends behind. And you can’t quite remember their faces and names. And your sense of self feels a little bit less steady and certain. Who are you, at the end of the day? As a kid you chased orcs with wooden swords, now you write angsty phrases that you put as your Instagram captions.

Do you remember that window you saw, when you walked back from the bus stop to your house, and you couldn’t help but imagine that someone lived in there, and that they had a life just as complicated as your own?

Nostalgia3

And while I do feel a connection between me-7-year-old, me 16-year-old and me-today, slowly I’m realizing I’ll always struggle to reconcile the changes that I go through. The places I go, the people I meet, the goals I reach (and the ones I don’t), they’ll all shape me. They’ll keep changing me, even as I struggle to keep all my pieces together in a coherent shape within a single identity of Andrew.

Who are you? Who am I?

 

 

 


 

This inquiry into identity, and the connection to memories started with some philosophy video that I saw that questioned this connection between memory and self. At first I didn’t understand what he meant; I felt pretty safe in my own identity. Now, though, I see these questions haunting me a little. Sadly, I don’t remember where I saw the video, or what it was called, otherwise I’d share.

I’m trying to frame the watercolors depicted above, but it’s a pretty expensive endeavor. If you’d like to help me out you can check out my Etsy store. I updated it with prints of these watercolors as postcard sized, but also have a 25% discount on all other items!

I also wanted to try and work with a similar format to the previous one on depression. Hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading through this post, your support, time and attention means a lot to me: it helps me keep going. If you’d like to stay updated make sure to follow the blog – button is off to the side!

You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.

 

 

Drawing Series on Depression and Anxiety – Part II

(Continued from this post.)

Loneliness3-1

So it’s gotten better, but I want to go back to understand a little bit more of what this all was. Sometimes I think we’re quick to jump to the solution, we want to speed through the problem as fast we can—reach the other side. But we’re here on Earth, aren’t we? We’ll reach Heaven eventually, won’t we? We might as well learn to take it slow, and learn how to read our problems. We have time to figure things out. And that’s something I’ve learned, and am still learning: there’s time to figure things out. I guess sometimes the whole “You only live once,” makes us feel like we’re not enough in this moment.

Going back to the problem. Recently I felt the anxiety coming back again. This past year was hard. Everything in my life seemed to be spinning again. Things that were, weren’t anymore. The person I looked at in the mirror was different, unrecognizable. I felt like there was a hole in my stomach, a black hole sucking in everything I threw at it, never satisfied. And the ghost-like feeling started to come back.

Loneliness3-2

I asked a couple people on Facebook to maybe help me coin a word to sum up this feeling.

Alex Johnson came up with “Anonrious,” a combination of anonymous and vicarious. She explains that “vicarious living makes no difference in your own life,” while “anonymous” conveys the ghost sentiment.” Which I think works with the idea. As I see it, anonymity contains a certain powerlessness behind it. The anonymous are weakekend, while those who carry an identity are strengthened, and have power, and influence.Anxiety

Ian Nery Rocha came up with “Miere.” For his thought process, he said: “I would choose a short, seemingly unimportant [word], as the sentiment it describes.” I think this also fits well with the concept; the person dealing with depression often feels unimportant, asking for attention (and help) is an incredible effort in itself. They feel tiny, small, impossibly small, as I did.

Loneliness2-3

To tie it all together:

Depression is connected to problems of Body, problems related to physical sensations that we often shut out. Depression carries with it a ghost-like quality of life. Depression is tied to “I’m not enough.” It’s tied to “I should already be good at this—at living.” Depression brings with it a lack of identity, lack of importance and of influence. And we should understand more of this reality before we go throwing solutions at a friend dealing with these emotions.

I still carry my Sadness with me. There’s still part of me that is enamored with him; he feels like he’s a piece of me. I want him. He makes me more real. But through therapy, the practice of mindfulness, and through the help of friends and family, I’ve also learned how to not let him take over me anymore. I’ve learned to trust others to help me.

Loneliness-1

This is all coming from my own experience. The world is big, and some people tell me that we have more than 7 billion people on this Earth. So please don’t assume that my own experiences encompass those of others. Each person may feel depression differently. They also will have different paths then mine, where therapy may not be enough and medication is needed. They may also find practices other than mindfulness and meditation that help them more.

The last thing I want to say is. Don’t feel like you have to worry about me. While I’m not perfect, I’ve grown a lot and have learned a variety of system-checks to keep my depression at bay. I’ve had the help of my parents and close friends. If my own life is ever at risk because of depression, I’ll let someone close, who can help me, know.


I wanted to talk about depression and anxiety. It’s something that I care deeply about, because of my own experiences and of those close to me. There’s a couple of other blog posts that touch a little bit on these topics. If you want to check them out here’s a small list of items relating to this topic, either by referencing it, or searching for solutions.

Liiiiiiiine

What Made Me Cry This Week – Yoga

Remember This 4

Remember This 3

Thank you for reading through this story, your support, time and attention means a lot to me: it helps me keep going. If you’d like to stay updated make sure to follow the blog – button is off to the side!

You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.

Drawing Series on Depression and Anxiety

 

 

Imagine me, younger, around the age of ten. my hair is longer and lighter. My nose hasn’t grown yet; it still has soft curves. My eyelashes and eyebrows are dark and heavy, hiding my eyes a little. I’m standing on this hill, just outside my house, my legs straight, my gaze firm as I look out into the city that fills the valleys and climbs the hills. The hill I stand on is covered in a green sheet. Not exactly the green you’re thinking of, but the green contaminated with a blue cold and grey tint; the sky is filled with soft shapes and gradations of clouds. Everything feels a little bit quieter. And I’m there on the hill, just quietly sad. My body feels empty, and so does my heart.

I have this memory from childhood, and I don’t recall if it’s been fabricated by my brain or if it happened.

I always was a little bit of a sad person. Even a sad kid really. I’ve heard from people that they see me as a joyful, calm and happy person. But I think I always carried with me a certain weight of sadness. Sure, I also had my happy moments, but there was sadness lurking about within. Almost like my happiness always had to be tinted with sorrow.

I don’t know where it comes from, why it existed. Why it exists. Maybe it’s my sensitive heart. Or maybe it started when my friend died in elementary school, run over by a truck when he was biking. I was 7, he was 6.

Maybe I’ve been enamored to sadness. Sadness has a richness of its own. It’s very nuanced, and feels real and tangible.

Loneliness2-2

Wherever it came from, this sadness hit the hardest in my teenage years.When I entered puberty and suddenly saw everything changing around me—my own body, my friends, the place I lived in—suddenly carrying my friend Sadness wasn’t ok anymore.

While I struggled to grasp my emotions, to gain some control of them, a friend committed suicide. He was almost an acquaintance really, but we were getting closer. This event ignited my own sadness, and suddenly it burst into thoughts of self-harm; and suicide made its space in my mind. Talking with my mom, we agreed that I should see a psychologist.

I had already struggled with a mild degree of depression, but suddenly I felt like the whole world crashed on me—anxiety was thrown into the mix. I felt unable to solve my problems and unable to be of any help to others. Looking back, I think I felt like a ghost. Unable to affect any real force or change, in the world, or in myself. My pain was cerebral, emotional, abstract. But to some degree I truly felt alienated from my body, and I decided to forget my body. Unable to enact change, I let myself slip more and more into the abstract self, into my head, away from the physical.

Loneliness2-1

Going to a psychologist for the next year or so really helped me. It helped me deal with insecurities, helped me see myself not as incapable, but as weakened. I could build myself up, slowly.

(To be continued)


I’ll post the second part to this on Thursday the 8th.

I wanted to talk about depression and anxiety. It’s something that I care deeply about, because of my own experiences and of those close to me. There’s a couple of other blog posts that touch a little bit on these topics. If you want to check them out here’s a small list of items relating to this topic, either by referencing it, or searching for solutions.

Liiiiiiiine

What Made Me Cry This Week – Yoga

Remember This 4

Remember This 3

Thank you for reading through this story, your support, time and attention means a lot to me: it helps me keep going. If you’d like to stay updated make sure to follow the blog – button is off to the side!

You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.

 

Colors and their Ambiguity and Contradictions

Words often fail to capture color. Their nuances, their ambiguity, fluidity all slip through the cracks of words.

Words seem to exist in an eternal state, a place of permanence. Even though their meanings change through time, within a generation or a single human’s life, that might be hard to notice or even impossible. But colors out here in the world, they flow, vibrate and change with the cycle of the sun, the seasons, and the lights we turn on and off in our houses and streets. The colors might repeat themselves in our lifetimes if only for a brief moment each time.

01FA3665-EE1B-4599-B64A-BB0229CDBA26

Right now as I walk to the bus, there’s a play of the gold-light from the sun, that slowly rises, and the shadows in the snow. The shadows are drenched in a soft blue or purple. It’s a color with great presence, but also very subtle whispers. It almost emanates the cold I feel on my skin, but also comfort and embrace.

Soon these colors will melt as the day goes on and the sun changes its mood. Maybe around 4pm or 5pm there’ll be some similar colors again if the atmosphere doesn’t change and the clouds stay as they are. But will they be the same? Even their similarity will be different, emphasized by the different state I will find myself in, my chest carrying different humors and responses to the world.

Color is so powerful because of this fluidity and ambiguity. Color is able to contradict itself.

The deep red, purple and orange that may emerge from some sunsets. They’re beautiful, longing and contemplative. They ask of us, “Stop. Take a moment, right here, and see me.” But the colors can also feel ominous, heavy making us maybe even a bit scared — “Will the next day come for sure? Is life going to keep on going, or was this my last sunset?”

And the blue-purple of the snow, and the gold-light, right now they seem to dance and shift between cold and warm and warm and cold. The blue becomes warm for a second, comforting. Then it recedes back into the cold, pulling with it the gold. And then this golden air that so often feels like a soft embrace, becomes cold and apathetic, superior to my experiences and my need of warmth. This all happening in a fraction of a second — it’s like a coin flipping in the air, quickly shifting from one to the other.

In one single moment I feel it all because of color. This slippery characteristic of vision that eludes so many of us. No wonder so often people are most attracted to the color of a painting — even when it’s exactly because the painting lacks colors. Color breathes, flows and changes so quickly it creates in us a sense of continual rediscovery.

A trip to New England

So. I’ve been trying to write a blog post about my Boston Interim trip. But I’ve been searching so much for the “best” way to write about it that I haven’t done much. I decided then to just actually go with the easiest way to do it. Basically, I’ll share the watercolors I did of the places we went and share a little of what they mean. These are not necessarily in chronological order as I took pictures of places and did the watercolors afterwards.

IMG_6133

In Concord, we visited Walden Pond where the very famous Thoreau built his cabin and lived there for about 2 years. The pond is almost more of a lake, although still considered a pond because of how it was formed. Good grief, I still want to call it a lake. It’s pretty big. In the image you can see the beautiful yellow that it was when we visited it. The lake itself was frozen and covered in about a foot of snow? Correct me if I’m wrong. Some of my classmates went on it. I was a chicken and didn’t. I stayed ashore, safe and sound and saw two of my other friends slip and fall. I might’ve laughed a little.

This watercolor is a landscape seen from the IMG_6134Northbridge. This bridge is where a lot of confusion happened and made some of the Englishmen die when they were coming in to get guns and ammunition out of American people’s hands. It was very confusing to me what exactly happened. But it was a beautiful view, and I couldn’t help but to try and represent it somehow.

IMG_6135This is a picture from inside the Old Manse. Highlights: Nathaniel Hawthorne lived here for a little, but the house belonged to Emerson; Sophia Hawthorne (Nathaniel’s wife) used to write on the glass windows and there’s some lovely poems on there. I loved the light coming in the room through the window and I wanted to capture that somehow. Not perfect but I’m happy with the results. I feel like the watercolor is doing is breathing it’s own life (and textures) into the image.

This one is back again at the Northbridge, but from a different position. We went thereIMG_6136 more than once and I just loved this huge tree at the top of this hill. As you may notice, it was a constant struggle of mine to represent snow. Snow is so hard. Sometimes I just wanted to draw a snowflake on the ground so people could go like “Oh, yeah. That be snow.” With this one though I still really like the way the lines turned out.

IMG_6137Ok. So this one was a hard one to execute. It’s a foggy view over the ocean bay out onto the other side of it in Salem. So the interesting thing about Salem is that it was where they had these crazy weird trials against witches. They were very bad trials and there’s a lot of history around them, and speculation about how they were used by some people to gain land and power. Crazy stuff. Anyways. After we toured a house in Salem, we had some freetime to explore. The view from the shore was beautiful—the houses in the distant land were semi-obscured by this fog. It all really matched the whole “witches” vibe. Also, many new age stores in town. You can go crazy with crystals and incense here if you want.

So this one is actually from the restroom that I used for most of interim in the inn that IMG_6138we stayed. I know, splendid to know where I did my necessities and cleaned myself. But, I just really liked again the light coming in and I got into this weird “paint windows” vibe there. This one the curtains are semi-closed which I appreciated.

IMG_6139Here we have me playing around with watercolor during a game of Mafia. One late-night a big part of the group decided to play mafia. During it I decided to explore watercolors a little, I ended up adding a kite, because why not?

I’ve omitted a couple of watercolors here that I don’t know what they represent, and they don’t look good.

This one is based off a picture a friend took of Cape Cod. This place was incredible. It’s IMG_6141just a beach, really, but it was beautiful. The way was overcast and after we walked on the beach we headed back home. It was a moment of reflection for me, where I tried to engage my senses and absorb as much as I could of the beauty God made. My cellphone ran out of battery so I used a friend’s picture to depict a more in-land part. Again, struggles with snow.

Wohooo! That’s most of the watercolors I worked on. I also made a couple off of friend’s pictures as Thank You cards for the professors, because they were great throughout the interim.

I think you enjoyed this walk-through my watercolors. As usual, most of these are available for purchase — you can just write me an email or reach me on Instagram or Facebook to inquire pricing.

Later on I’ll also share some pictures from my sketchbook and talk a little bit more about other parts of the trip.


Your support means a lot to me: it helps me keep going. So if you’d like to stay updated make sure to follow the blog – button is off to the side!

You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.

 

What Made Me Cry This Week – Naive and Begin (Music)

I usually don’t do a lot of writing about music. My ears aren’t the best, I don’t fully comprehend different musical terms and in general I just feel trying to describe my musical experiences is like trying to hold water in my hands—it all ends up slipping through. But, I thought I would still give it a try, since it was indeed the thing that made me cry this week.

I came out of the bus that had been warming me back up in the 15 minutes I was in it. While I don’t usually enjoy the cold, I pretty much despise it most of the time, as I walked out of the bus I realized today was one of those few days where I embrace the cold, where I’m happy for it to be here. One of those days where cold feels more like a blanket, than a killing machine.

As I stepped out of the bus Naive by RKCB played.

Right after it played Begin (ft. Wales), by Shallou. I was still walking towards Spoelhoef. Out in the embracing cold. And I could just feel my eyes getting filled up with the different lyrics and verses.

I think these two songs represent a lot of what I’ve been going through this semester.

Naive represents my heartache of things that didn’t work out. Often, I hoped that things maybe will come back, that they’ll be what they were again. The title and the verse “I’m not naïve,” pointed to how naïve I can be in an almost ironic way. It made me sad, but also made me want to laugh at myself. How often have I hoped for the past to come back, but I know it won’t? I’m naïve through and through, but I saw my lips moving together with those verses, understanding myself in them.

The music itself caught my attention because of how mellow it is. It’s simple, with a base sound in the background that doesn’t pull you away from the singer. Slow beats and simple texturized sounds flow in the back. But what sold the song for me were the simple yet moving lyrics.

In what’s the “climax” of the song for me, RKCB sings:

“Just promise me

You let me be inside my dreams

Where it’s not over”

I think Begin, coming right after this song gave a whole twist on the moment’s meaning. Like Naive the melody is somewhat simple and mellow, but this one has a hint of hope. It’s starts with a couple of uplifting beats and then he starts singing. There’s some nice variations in the “highlights” of the songs, but the base of the song stays steady. The voice is breathy, almost spiritual and distant.

But the lyrics again are what finally drove this song in deep—even if I’ve already heard this one in the past.

“Change your mind
‘Cause I wasn’t thinking right
We can begin at the top.”

Pretty often we hear to not be ashamed or embarrassed of our mistakes, to embrace them. And while I think there’s some degree of that that we should carry with ourselves, we should also feel comfortable to change our minds, to admit—“I wasn’t thinking right.” It’s hard to admit that we were wrong, but I think this song helps us relax and admit that we did mess up. We mess up all the time, let’s begin again.

In trying to deal with this past year, and this past semester, I had to remind myself both that I can’t go back to the beginning, to how things were. But also that I can change my mind, I can start over. I can restart myself and “Begin at the top.” It’s a paradox that I want to carry with myself.

So, as the end of the year approaches I want to remind myself of that. We can always try again, we can always recognize our mistakes, and we can always let go and move on.

I Think I Lost The Focus of It: Trying

It’s Sunday night. After Thanksgiving break. Tomorrow, it’s back to class and work again. J Andrew Gilbert, is trying to figure out what are the best ways to pretend he doesn’t have class tomorrow. The semester is ending after all.

He started thinking about a blog post. This post.

In this post, he’ll explain how he feels that in some way he doesn’t know what he is doing anymore with this blog. I mean what is its purpose? What is he trying to talk about?

When he began on his journey, he knew it was going to be hard. To keep it up and to just write. To just make a post. But even if you know things, doesn’t mean you’re prepared for it.

So far, he has written several posts related to things he likes – book reviews, mostly. He has also done self-motivational writing. Mostly meant for himself, but that he hopes someone else finds encouraging – especially other creatives like him. He has also started a web comic, that has been faulty in it’s submissions timeline.

Even within the comic itself he kind of lost himself too. What started as a play-off of his friendship with Zach, has become into a “Remember This” series. He quite enjoys the “Remember This” series as he feels it gives him more room to play with the images and “poetry” (many quote marks around poetry, please).

But, even though he doesn’t know what he is doing, and even though he doesn’t know what exactly he wants to accomplish. And that he has no real “brand.” Or no masterful plan to how he’s going to take over the internet world with his awesome writing and image-making. He does know that he enjoys doing it.

He enjoys the hardship if putting himself out there. He enjoys the pain and friction of trying to put into words thoughts, feelings. He enjoys to put give breath, a body. He enjoys writing. He enjoys drawing. And he enjoys sharing it with you.

He hopes that in something of this you find yourself a little bit encouraged. Or that you feel understood in some level, because you feel yourself represented. In an image, or a phrase. Or maybe just a line.

He isn’t no great writer, nor a great artist. But at least he’s trying. And this blog, so often, has been just about that: trying.


 

This month of November I had a lot of views on two blog posts that I’m really proud of, for different reasons and they have very different writing styles. If you missed them here’s a friendly link to each one:

So. This is Unedited.

Arabian Nights – Poster Design

Be sure to check Orange Unicorn’s last update.

Your support means a lot to me: it helps me keep trying. If you’d like to stay updated make sure to follow the blog – there’s a button off to the side!

You can also follow my Facebook Art page, Instagram (@jandrewgilbert), and Twitter (@jandrewgil), for updates.