The Art of the Heart
With all honesty, you can compare children to an artist and their work, well, anyone for that matter. This is because an artist creates the reality they want the world to see. Maybe the reality they want for others. Or perhaps the reality they see before them. Children and artists have the power to create these realities.
The power to try out for a sport and be the best. Or to add more blue to the glimmering fireworks spiraling up into their big bang. Either way, in each experience, they decide to make or to be something, and the heart guides them. The heart moves them with passion, knowing of want it wants, even without either group knowing why.
When I was younger, I never thought about my future or how it would turn out. I never thought of the tests — or the spiritual and physical entanglements — I would overcome; not even the ones I’d fail in trying to. I was a blank canvas with nothing on my easel. No dreams; no real challenges. I had no goal in my life other than to be. But I wasn’t happy or content. I was frustrated.
Even with the simplicities in my life, even if I didn’t understand the emotion of frustration, I couldn’t be happy. Deep down in my heart, it was longing for pieces it had never been born with. I longed to gain the love of my father. He was my missing piece. And though I didn’t know it, he never had a spot on my canvas, anyway.
How My Father Changed Me
My father, he was a mysterious man. He showed up in my life about as many times as you could count on your fingers. Or at least, as a child, that’s
what it felt like. I never grasped his character or the fact that he was my father.
Well, I mean, I knew he was to me, but it hadn’t felt like it. I spent most of my time dreading the thought of this strange man coming to visit me. But for some reason — some odd reason — I wanted to understand him, and I wanted him to “love me.”
My canvas was full of questions rather than art. Little did I know, my heart was attempting to reconstruct my father, or at least find what little of a father he had in him so he could give it back to me. Channeling these feelings, I waited, and I waited, and I waited until he came back. When he finally did, I asked him, “What made you love me” as if this was something he decided to do at the last minute. Or at least, as a child, that’s what it felt like.
Becoming What I Needed
I like to think that my father was the fire that sparked my firework. The spark that’s leading to my “big bang.” I grew up without much authoritative guidance after that, and around the time I was about 11 or 12, I was cast into foster care. Not many authority figures come from there either, if you were wondering. Positive ones, I mean.
Despite the circumstances, I started thinking of a world where I was on top of all my school work, with a job, surrounded by friends, and happy. My canvas soon became full of these stories until I started reflecting on them. Foster care pushed me to work harder and to become self-reliant.
I didn’t have a reason for a father or the need for one. It made me more of a hard body. I stopped caring about what others thought of me and loved myself for who I was. My heart stopped asking for a father, and I stopped seeking out validation, that reassurance. I became my own father, and if I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.
My Next Steps as an Artist
“An artist creates the reality they want the world to see.” For me, I want the world to see that parents don’t dictate your success, nor does it define who you are. My heart wanted a form of parental guidance, but instead, I became that figure for myself. I hope that one day I can be a mentor to children who have had these same experiences as me, and show them that we can be our own parents, too.
Through my own art, I like to showcase lots of color and style. I’ve never had an in-depth “set feel” for my art, so self-expression is the key to all of what I do. It’s what my heart wants, to show off and love myself. Also, I want to teach my own art classes to the youth and teach them all what it means to be a real artist.
By: Khalyse Hemingway
Sources
Inset Image Courtesy of Giovani Blank Flicker Page – Creative Commons License
Featured Image Courtesy of Steve Hübscher Flicker Page – Creative Commons License
