FeedingTheBeetle's photostream

There is a faint sound of traditional Lakota songs playing while she lays on the floor looking at a ceiling packed with journal entries, travel photographs, and her sketchbook full of dreams; stories and pictures from the core within her soul. Her surroundings smell like sage, and her feet are dirty from running barefoot in the hills of Slovenia. Holding a small antique clock she found on the street corner, she asks herself, "Are you ready, yet?". . . repetitively

My creativity and artistic tools not only depict the beauty of mother earth's purity and self-recovery, but also considers the enlightened acknowledgment granted by creation; it is about the insights and desires I have about life. My life is my art and It is the fantastic omen of sixteen eagles flying in the sky the very moment I feel I need supporters. At times, my art is like the most beautiful flower that sits sympathetic at my feet when I feel I have lost everything I have ever loved. It isn't about what is right or wrong, it is about forgetting the told stories and lost dreams. And at that exact moment of having let go completely, it is that epiphany of truly seeing what is in front of me - a clear image, a wish granted, or perhaps that very moment when I first saw everything fall apart in front of my eyes.

My vision is not to change your thinking, or make you understand exactly what I am trying to convey. Its purpose is to give you a mere glimpse of what I see through my experience in life. With the horrific combined with the beauty, and the beauty stuck in the horrific, I might throw in an utterly unexpected element; one which explodes in colors, dreams, and even more graphic visions. There are no rules in my game; there is nothing lost, and everything gained. My art isn't just about what has happened to me; it is about the relationship between what has happened to you, to everyone you know, have loved, and even to the people you don't, like the woman behind you in a dark hotel room fighting with her scorpion visitor. It is about the starving cub in the woods asking her wolf mother for food to chew. It is about wanting more than anything to truly know someone - yet still being too deathly afraid to even try. It is realizing to truely know someone; you must first put yourself in his or her shoes.

So, I am ready now. Hand me your shoes

Contact: Kimberlysikyea@gmail.com