I am those who came before me.

It was at fifteen years old that, for the first time, I was strike with the idea that death could be a solution to consciousness.

Life, at that time, seemed like such a struggle that going down that path felt like an adequate direction.

It was a lane that brought me to be alive in that sentence. I wanted to feel something, anything.

It hasn’t changed much to be honest. I still want to feel empowered by meaning, whatever that is.

Since then, I have embarked on a creative journey, and I am still not sure why.

Maybe it allows me to disconnect with that reality, the one that came with the realization that the words “what’s the point” are the only thing that I truly know, and will ever truly understand.

Maybe it helps me establish moods in which I feel alive enough not to desire that adolescent ultimatum.

Nevertheless, I do empathize with myself when I sense, within me, the urge to be anything but that downfall of a person.

Chasing a devotion in the arts has emancipated a sentient hope that has become fundamental to my mental resistances: because, from nothing*, emerges something that is new and fresh, which essentially means life.

I don’t know anything else that reverberates more than that, than the thought of it being non-stop.

But it cannot be a continuous stroll when the ambition to confront this struggle of “not letting go” is paralleling the fact that accomplishment is set to be of an all construct in a world where meaninglessness and non-sense are at the core of what I value as most probably senseful.

I don’t consider myself to be a pessimist, but a realist that wishes to obtain bubbles of thrills in which I see more clearly, epiphany-like, struck by ephemeral clarity.

I believe that I want to be excited, febrile about what I do and desire.

It may be that I want to love and be in love, whatever that means, because that sentiment is filled with purpose.

I firmly believe that creation, in its essence, is primal to humankind in its individual and global development. New ideas, through the synthesis of cumulative knowledge, and through sustained critical thinking leading to new conclusions about the future of the world, are vectors of progress (in opposition to stagnation, nil, and ashes).

As an artist, I believe in the multiplicity of mediums,

In the interlaced discourses they obliged me to maintain with one another.

To be an actor is to know them all, inclined to strives for all human behaviors:

Let me think about photography while singing a song

And let me write those lines while dancing my ass off :

Photography to see beyond the frames, music to temper my cadence, writing to grasp upon lost and novel feelings, acting to liberate parts of my soul stuck underneath my skin : they are me and I am them.

In the end, I tend to wander in the wonders behind the meaning of our capacity to reason like we can.

Why do we, humankind, put so much merit in doubting our own thinking as the thing leading to all of our decision makings?

Consciousness gave us the ability to question the unanswerable query that is: why do we have the ability to question this unanswerable query?

It led purpose to make his way, first place in line, as the absolute mantra for all individuals. Without it, how would we be able to survive our own minds?

It becomes less and less of a riddle when I find a piece of that puzzle, even when I know it only enlarges the whole enigma again.

I am the world

Because it is contained in me

As I am its legacy.

With love,

M

* “Nothing comes from nothing and nothing ends in nothing.” - Lama Michel