5 years later, art is survival

it’s kind of weird - if not random - to be writing here, almost 5 years since my last post.

why now?

i’ve been reflecting on how much our (i.e. collective society’s) relationship with the internet has magnified.

you can interpret that as as you will — either/both good and bad.

COVID truly redefined what it means to be “connected.” in enforced isolation, the only thing that could safely connect us was the www, and more specifically, the platforms that were already becoming increasingly compulsive and opaquely divisive.

i feel wound up in it all – stuck in the inescapable puzzle of digital connection : sourcing inspiration : sharing my work. (i chuckle when i realize that i’ve been dealing with the same problems since i was 14 y/o and here i am, still making art about it).

we are in an age where we have never been more personally, socially, and professionally intertwined with social media.

i’ve been asking myself where i can turn to instead.

i had been wrestling with what my own answer was, until i realized it was here.

this personal archive. effectively what i’ve called me “talking into the void” all these years. it’s the special place i created for myself all those years ago where there was no other noise. just me. and that was all that mattered.

in high school, my outlet was photography and film. i’d spend afternoons doing homework and nights finding cool contemporary artists i liked or making mood boards or taking street photography.

when my outlet became my course of study (in college), there was no need for me to make art on my own. my passion became my job. since i’ve graduated high school, art-making had been “fed” to me – taught.

for me, filmmaking was once this beautifully nebulous art form that didn’t have structure or rules. it was my perfect art form that could synthesize all the things that i love: storytelling, photography, and graphic design.

but in film school, filmmaking is given incredibly rigid definition.

i wasn’t used to having a school grade attributed to my “authentically me” creative outputs.

grades never affected what i thought of my work, but it did make me think twice when conceptualizing ideas to fulfill prompts or projects. maybe i had forgone a better idea for a less original one that i figured my professor would prefer but didn’t represent me as well.

i’ve come out of school craving those high school homework afternoons where i was motivated by own want to find something cool that inspired me. making something in response, in my own way.

i don’t think that i’m alone in saying that, now, my free hours are easily lured by applications of infinite consumption.

even functioning as an impromptu portfolio of sorts for many, social media and my constant scrolling of other people’s work has continued to be somewhat self-afflicting. the double edged sword.

it is hard to resist comparison.

and now that art is my job, it is hard to resist comparison of “success.”

and here i am, 5 years later, trying to figure out what to do. literally and figuratively trying to find my roots again.

so i’m reclaiming what has been here all along – what i’ve come back to time after time to keep me grounded. this 11 year-old multi-media creative journal. just mine.

more to come.

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p.s. this is what america feels like right now ↴

p.p.s lukita took that photo of me at MOCA geffen at the top

burn out

hello world. it’s only been 5 months. i’m back, in a way.

i think after all of these months my brain is begging for a writing outlet. i use this space to vent and brain-vomit everything that i may feel and think in the hopes that someone out there might feel and think it too.

everything personal/creative has been on pause since school has started, and only half way through the semester i’m starting to burn out. bad. class for 8 hours a day, watching faces in small boxes made of pixels open and close their mouths with lagged dialogue. sometimes it seems like there are no breaks from the screen – we are fundamentally glued to our devices in an attempt to connect with each other like we used to. after almost 8 months of this all, i’m not sure if it’s still possible to communicate in this way with the same emotional and psychological attention as before. i know i can’t. i feel like i’m beginning to lose my short-attention span, and caring less about paying attention at all.

i told abby that this semester is the first one where i’ve turned in class assignments late with little intention or motivation to make it great. or even good. i’ve questioned to what extent i feel like i’m learning or gaining any experience in the things i want to learn. it feels like i’m just trying to get by day by day, doing only what is asked of me right now and moving on. starting tomorrow like i started today, just looking forward to that someday when life returns to some version of normalcy.

i’m struggling with some new mental health things. that’s been hard. it’s a new process that i’ve never had to deal with before, despite all that i’ve gone through in the past decade. i’ve realized that that process is ok. i’m not alone as much as sometimes my head tells me i am. i know that.

i needed the break

to just live

now i’m not living

so i need to write

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what life is like

hello from the void.

first off. i’m starting a newsletter! it’ll have more little niblets than i include in blog posts so if you want to sign up for that, fill this out:

here are some random images that best summarize the past week or so.

1) a dark hallway devoid of fellow roommates

2) lots of hammocking, reading, and intermittent napping. i don’t mind.

3) late-night ice cream excursions

4) bakery runs galore to support the local businesses. here’s a beet/scallion sesame bagel from belle’s

5) 11:30pm self tuck-ins, usually accompanied by an episode of veep (that i’ve now finally finished in its entirety)

i’m still slowly adjusting to this new sense of “normal”. at this point it’s hard to envision a world where we no longer wear masks and wash our hands while we sing the ABCs (or for me, the chorus of harry style’s “watermelon sugar”). i’m starting to ease into the social lull a bit more; it seems more comfortable now that summer is finally coming around. i just pretend that i can’t see my friends because they’ve gone for the summer (i mean, that’s true).

it’s been that sort of week where i have to remind myself to count my blessings. otherwise, i find myself spinning in an existential loop of drifting “what if?”s. what if ____ in the future? what if i don’t do ____ now? what if the world ____? it’s been hard to stray away from those lines of thought, and i know that i’m not the only one spiraling through them often.

one thing i’ve been turning to is music. unfortunately, i don’t have my trombone with me or a piano, but i have spent the middays listening to some of my playlists on repeat. here’s the one i’ve been recently adding to that epitomizes the sort of happy-solemn sentiment that i’ve had these past few months (!).

some weird ones in there too. like these weird times, huh?

enjoy at your leisure.

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making food is saving me

food means a lot to me. that’s not supposed to be an ironic or cliché sentence. food means a lot of different things to me.

this blog was once devoted entirely to food posts and recipes that i made up or adapted. in a time in middle and high school where i felt most alone, making food (and taking photos) was my way to sort of navigate new “spaces” of freedom and solitude. both cooking/baking and photography are equally as beneficial to me as social hobbies/arts as they are solo ones. a lot of the time, doing either on my own makes me feel not alone in some way that i can’t entirely explain as i’m writing this. i think it has to do with the fact that the end product of both is something i always want to share. photos. food. photos of food.

in quarantine, i’ve leaned back into my more creative side of cooking lately. i have the time and the patience – the “space” – to do so more comfortably now during this new context of reality. it feels good. i’m glad i have the drive to preserve my creative drive from film/photography/production/collaborative projects (which is on pause, unfortunately) to culinary/solo projects. i’m finding a lot of the same joy that i felt all those years ago when the solo-ness was less enforced but still self-imposed (i’ll get to that in a second). it’s a comfort that i’ve already cultivated for myself— it’s there, i just had to find it again.

again, back to the ‘food means a lot of different things to me’ topic. yes, food is all of these joyous things and solaces that i’ve mentioned. it also used to be an enemy for me. i honestly can’t remember if or when i’ve talked about food being a tangible fear/anxiety (i.e. eating disorder) for me (note: after a quick search, this is the only one i’ve found). being honest with myself here, it was during those same years of middle/high school that cooking was equally my consolation as it was my affliction. it was a dangerous creative game for me.

i’d like to say that i’m now at least 95% out of recovery from that past self. but, i’ve felt myself dipping into a similar mentality of cooking a lot again during quarantine. i’m stretching out the ends of the very positive and the very negative spectrum, again. does that make sense? echoing that consolation-and-affliction phenomenon: it’s the time and the overwhelming space to think that brings out both the best and the worst parts of my brain. i have caught myself slipping a bit — being overly conscious about food, labeling things ‘good’ and ‘bad’ subconsciously, feeling guilt, feeling defeated. feeling all those things amid all the good that i feel from it, too – productivity, creative flow, awesome tastes, pride, ease, peace. these past few weeks i’ve been in a little bit of a battle between these two orbits of thought. like the devil and angel on either shoulder.

i’ll be okay. writing this makes me feel accountable. i’ve never been super open about this stuff, but i feel like now is the time to share if people have ever or do feel similarly now. it’s something i’m still working on. i’m grateful to have support systems to help me through it.

okay, that was a tough one. thanks for hearing me out.

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rewind

i’m having one of those nights where i’m backtracking my last 14 days of steps. where i thought i was making the right choices – mature and thoughtful ones – but really, i think i’ve just been overestimating how much i believed i’ve grown/matured/managed (myself).

what am i doing?

i feel like right now, hope is kind of blinding me. blind hope. that’d be a nice song name.

superficial is too strong of a word to append to the word “happiness” that i think i’m feeling right now. maybe it’s just impulsive and hazy joy. like that fog in LA tonight.

the past 6 weeks have kind of been a rewind.

moments are repeating themselves from a year ago and, initially, i had believed i had come out of the other end (now not then) as a different person. a more assured, thoughtful, stronger person.

a conversation with a friend has kind of re-revealed some underlying truths that i didn’t really want to acknowledge or reconsider. i’ve thought to myself for a while, “hey - the past is the past and situations and people can change and interactions can rekindle.”

to which another friend said, “we grow but never really change.”

i’m trying to have an objective opinion on a subjective situation but i’m really struggling.

i need to figure out what i’m doing.

thank you for reading the most vague yet unproductive late-night post yet.

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in a new light

do you see me? between the lines? in the reflection? in green. green is somehow my new favorite color after blue was for so long. my dad said something to me the other day about how my pictures in new york city this week have all called upon the space between things/objects/lines - the shape it creates, the colors it complements together or juxtaposes apart. like i’m seeing the city (and… bigger things?) in a new light maybe.

“it’s the negative space that is beautiful,” he said.

i’m in this weird ephemeral state of mind where listening to “kid A” while writing is making me reflect on things that people have said to me in the past few weeks. thoughts and feelings that have shifted me. i share a lot of what i say here. but what about other words that affect me? i wanted to culminate a list. maybe it’ll resonate.

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even out of context, there’s still meaning, i hope:

“just do.”

“acknowledging that [you’re still growing], and appreciating this moment in all of it — being able to re-read, but knowing you’re actively writing too. you always will be”.

“it’s sad. but eloquent. it is also very hopeful. bittersweet.”

“life is just a shipwreck of our plans.” “life is just a shipwreck of life.”

“what do you mean by re-contextualize?” “re-read. be able to dwell on old thoughts and draw new meaning and significance from them.”

“we can break into an aquarium and have it to ourselves”

“just take a deep breath. prioritize what is most important to you.”

“today’s a weird day for me. but i wanted to reach out to you and let you know how much i care about you. and whenever you’re feeling down, i’ll always be here.”

“the best thing for hangovers is grease.” “thanks, mom.”

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and you?

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ebbs and flows

hi. i’m here now after three months of what seems like some of the most up-and-down anxiety-inducing-yet-ultimately-satisfactory period of my life so far. i took a break to kind of face that time on my own - i don’t think i would’ve had the courage or even mental capacity to write publicly about the cacophony that was this past semester (my third of eight in college).

the past couple of entries here have been downcast. i can’t not admit that my state of mind over the summer and for the few months leading up to now has been a dark blue. i saw reflections in my attitude and feelings of self-worth and -value that mimicked how i perceived myself in middle school - just hopeless and sick (note: i’ve never fully opened up about that time; this post i wrote in 9th grade gives the smallest glimpse of it). thinking back on those early years of teenagedom has only made me realize how much i needed to be stronger now.

i’m 20. i started writing here when i felt alone seven years ago.

can you believe that? how could i let myself fall back into the traps of my mind from when i was 13? why couldn’t i resist? what was wrong with feeling alone again?

just like the last few years of teenage-now-adultdom have ebbed and flowed in an effort to find myself, so too have the past few months. releasing myself from the firm grasp of summer depressions, learning to rely on my friends who i didn’t initially believe could help (and really truly do), focusing on what i love (because art is what matters) and not on what i don’t, calling my parents, calling abby (my best friend from home), appreciating the mornings listening to npr by myself, cooking for myself again — i had to learn to do these things before i could get out of where i was. this hole that i kept digging myself into every time i told myself i couldn’t get out.

i’m above that hole now. i’ve been able to enjoy small things again (e.g. something like a midnight drive on a tuesday) because i’ve disentangled myself from the dark blue that used to tower over me.

i’m home in new york as i write this. only now can i sit down and really think about the ebbs and flows of june and july and august and september and october and november. it’s over now (or it feels like it). i’m just sailing.

i’ll update more frequently here now. i promise.

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recently i've been...

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…home. i’m home again. finally. i’m in new york city, if it’s been that long that you need a reminder. it’s been 6 days here and only t-18 days until i’m back in los angeles. it’s been an interesting few weeks.

my health is… improving? i started therapy. i finished classes and had exams. went to study color at the getty one night. got $5 ramen the other. had a party with my filmmaking cohort on a roof in downtown la. made new friends. therapy. made s’mores with my roommates at the fire pit and we just talked. ate dim sum. spent the day on a trampoline with my preschool friend who i still love. saw another doctor. flew home. mother’s day. saw my best friend from high school and day-napped together. about to get my aura taken tonight with my family.

it’s been a great few weeks.

i miss my friends back in los angeles. i’ll see them soon.

i’ve been thinking a lot about how best i can spend my next 18 days at home. i’ve been slowly marking things off my checklist of random errands. fix pants? done. watch hanna? done. i have the space for unnecessary tasks. it’s been nice to finally relieve all the little things i’ve been wanting to get done for a couple of months.

i watch movies with my parents in the evening. talk with my -3hr difference friends past midnight. do my errands during the day. and i wake up around 10:30am. i like the balance and the need to not have to do anything. a least for a little bit. (watch me next write about my stir craziness).

here are a few bookmarks that i’ve been bookmarking because internet bookmarks are also relevant to my days:

1. jacob collier singing make me cry has been on repeat in the house recently. i saw him live in concert a month or two ago in los angeles and this song swayed me. now whenever i listen to it i just kind of entrance myself again.

2. i’m trying not to buy groceries and baking items that i can’t finish in 3 weeks (and that, honestly, no one else in my house will ever eat). so as i much as i want to make this date granola, i think i’ll wait to try it out until i move into my new place in LA.

3. i need to make my way to essex market. hopefully, it’s not like chelsea market? they have vegan artisan cheeses. sold.

4. i’ve been accumulating ways to mitigate my plastic use and waste. re: ‘minimalism’. i need a coffeemaker and i’ve been wanting to try to make my own nut milks instead of buying containers from the grocery store that use huge plastics. it’s cheap too. this solves that.

5. too bad i never want to go to jfk ever.

see you next week.

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when you can't eat a lot of stuff

a few weeks ago, i was diagnosed with this chronic disease called small intestinal bacterial overgrowth. people call it SIBO. this is what i felt like when i received the news.

i’ve been dealing with a lot the last four to five weeks. i know i haven’t really been present on here, and honestly, that space has been relieving. i think what is overwhelming me most is the abrupt and almost instantaneous changes that are happening in my life to cure what has seemed like almost six years of health problems.

what does that look like? bouncing between 2 different “diets” that have opposite restrictions (note: “diet” in this context = limiting certain foods to keep me from relapsing into SIBO, not trying to lose weight). seeing 4 doctors regularly— 5 after today. beginning my cycle of antibiotics for what i thought would be 3 months. explaining to people what i can’t eat and why i can’t eat it. having to prove to people that my health matters.

i think it is honest to say that i am frustrated. i’m slowly acknowledging these “setbacks” as progress— that this is what i need to push through, deal with, accept to get better. i am getting better. it gets easier to make this distinction as i see improvements in my health.

for me, the struggles that i am facing in recovery have had more of a mental impact than a physical one. i don’t want to restrict my food, but i am being asked to. i don’t want to check labels on the back of containers, but it is heavily recommended that i do so. in minor ways, i am being asked to return to disordered habits. i know that i cannot let that happen.

sibo recovery has been a test of my recovery from previous disorders. i dismiss disordered thoughts as soon as they enter my head space. i try to think less about why i am eating something even though i have to make sure i know what i am eating. i’m starting to practice mindful eating. i just have to slow down.

i have proven to myself that i am stronger than whatever i was going through many years ago.

and i am so incredibly proud of myself for that.

i’m getting better. i’ve been coping with the stress of my fluctuating health the best way i know how: cooking. i make breakfast in my dorm every day. you can find out what i get to eat every morning as i document my meals here.

i’m getting stronger.

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slow down

i have to keep reminding myself to slow down. to slow slow slow down. to not overanalyze minute details. to draw my attention away from the things that should matter less.

i had a little bit of a mental breakdown on monday. it was this feeling of pent up and enclosing anxiousness and fear of myself. my head was bubbling with self-deprecating thoughts that kept nagging and nagging at me. i was breaking myself down in small, stinging ounces. i knew that it was all in my head. it didn’t matter. i couldn’t stop myself from thinking of myself in this critical light of revulsion. i knew that it was agonizing me but for half the day i just couldn’t stop. i boxed myself in with my own thoughts. i was dipping back into old depressive habits when i was younger.

i called my mom.

and i clicked.

i distracted myself. i cleaned, made my bed, pounded out work, ate. i took a walk. and i took a bikeride to run errands that i had been putting off. just checking off boxes helped me feel better. i took some time to just sit in the sun for a little bit. i reached out to my friends for help. i felt better. i got some bright yellow flowers.

i’m more conscious of how my mind reacts to these bouts of anxiety. i can control them better. but in the moment, i feel entirely caged in my head. i just need to become better at seeing the bigger picture in these entrapping but minuscule moments.

i’m getting better.

thanks for hearing me.

just slow down, iz.

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october diary

oct 1, 2018

the broad & walt disney concert hall projections

went to the broad with john in the afternoon. there was a long ling for the infinity room x kusama exhibit. ended up going to the kusama “pod” that you could only stand and look into. the security guards timed you for 30 seconds. walked around to the disney concert hall projections. sat on a cleared parking lot structure. it was a little underwhelming. watching the shadows drift on the broad was conversely a lot more pretty.

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october 6-7, 2018

weekend in venice beach & photoshoot for veuve cliquot polo classic

drove out to venice to meet simbarashe and the rest of the team. got tacos on abbot kinney for dinner. prepped for our shoot the next day. didn’t sleep. was in the sun photographing at veuve cliquot polo from 9a-6p. my legs hurt by the end. celebrated with an ironic meal of pizza, ben & jerry’s and champagne. ate twice at great white. i learned a lot.

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october 20, 2018

row DTLA

went with maia to row DTLA this morning. it was quiet and serene. popped in and out of little shops. sat at a table and just listened to cars and the birds and the people putting away produce boxes from earlier in the morning. bought a little pin that says, “art every day.” it felt a little empty.

october is almost over.

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hello, la

hello.

i’m in a new place. i’m 3000 miles away from home-home. i call this place “home” now. my friends seem to hate it. i’m just a jumble of homesickness. i’m settled. or settling. i’m creating but just not in the way i expected i would. it’s coming soon, though.

i’m meeting cool people. i’m friends with art people, film people, business people, econ people. i’m finding “me”s. or more interesting “me”s, which thrills me.

i want to make more!

i want to film more!

i want to take the metro more!

it’s only been four weeks.

i’m in a constant reminding-myself-mode that i am just getting started.

i miss home.

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summer polaroids

i have three weeks until i leave for los angeles. back home i go. 

it's weird. i'm living these summer moments home candidly and with the intention and the knowledge that they will be my last in this sort of situation, as a high schooler living in new york. that's weird to me. i won't be seeing anyone from home until november. what????? i'm on my own. 

i thought i'd reflect on a few photos that don't exactly sum up my summer but thought were indicative of the sort of stuff i've been up to. they're not in no particular order because chaotic order is more style. or organized chaos, i guess.

i've been walking around and eating and dining and making and doing and cooking and baking and reading and relaxing and visiting museums and seeing people and eating ice cream and dying on the really hot days. 

i remind myself every few days that i must really savor these moments with the people i love here. this is not an ordinary moment. thank you to everyone who's made it special.

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i was grey

here's the thing about graduating at my school. you wear white. pure, crisp, blinding white. or, at least, that's what you're supposed to wear. commencement is a big deal for obvious reasons: it's a nod at our efforts to succeed at school for the past 13 years and it's a celebration of our last moments of being a teenager in high school. like a lot of other schools, we honor our graduation with diplomas, singing, and our families and close friends in front of us while we grin onstage. we are being championed for us. i am being championed for me. 

the symbolic purity of white dresses is something i've only found at my school, (though i know others do it as well in the city). i wasn't exactly white though.

on graduation day, i knew it was coming-- looks (greatly disapproving) and comments towards my dress. i acknowledged that i was pushing white. even though i had expected some pushback before i came to school, i was still so excited to feel beautiful on a day that celebrates me for me, because that's what commencement is all about, right?

someone had approached me before we walked on stage and told me that the color of my dress would ruin pictures. i kind of spiraled into a whirlpool of self-deprecating and self-conscious mind junk after that. 

i did not feel beautiful, i was insecure. i felt ashamed. i didn't smile wholeheartedly until i realized that people didn't have to look me up and down anymore. the biggest day of our entire upper school life and i showed up looking abnormal. 

but eventually i sucked it up. 

i am me for me. maybe my dress wasn't white, but it was me. "irrefutably you" is what one of my friends told me. 

and that was it.

i was grey. 

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on happiness

from an excerpt i wrote in my journal this morning:

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maybe i'm saying all of this because i'm on winter break.

well.

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twenty seventeen

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according to some weird website, these were my top nine photographs on instagram this year – (ironically) selected by which ones received the most likes. they're far from my best photos that i've taken this year, or the ones that mean the most to me, at least. 

hello.

it's been a long year. i'm done with my lists of things that have happened in the spans of time between each time i write. i think. gosh, it's been a long year. 

i feel like the end of 2017 and the beginning of 2018 is the firsts of lasts (or maybe even the lasts of firsts), if that makes sense. i told my mom in november that this is my last thanksgiving living at home. i told her the other day that this is my last christmas living at home. i'm living my last december, january, and february of high school. i already had my last birthday at home. the walls in my room are slowly filling up with the last photos of my time in new york. i'm going to have my first last prom. and my first last graduation. 

it's weird. 

in this lull of time – of waiting time – until the end of the year, i feel like i'm just wasting time. wasting time all the time. i'm doing things, like school work, but even that seems empty in a way. i think anticipation is killing me. 

i started volunteering at an animal shelter. i started drawing again (the last time, if you remember, was in 8th grade). i might sign up for an art class a few times during the week. i'm trying to start a notebook (but, so far unsuccessfully) again. i'm listening to new music. that doesn't feel empty. even though i'm filling empty time with old things. 

i'm not getting nostalgic yet. 

it's snowing outside.

that's nostalgia. 

here are my hand-selected songs that i listened to the most in 2017. izzy of 2018, listen to these if you want a glimpse back in time. 

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biggest little city

i went to reno last weekend.

i saw my friends that i never get to see.

we recorded music.

i climbed a snowy hill.

i fell into the snow. purposefully. 

i was in arizona for a few hours.

i think i cried at some point. i probably won't see them again for a while.

love you guys.

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eighteen

it's hard to believe i'm an adult now.

i can sign my own papers, take a flight by myself, vote. 

i am my own person now. legally. 

that's such a strange thing, and another addition to the growing whirlwind of growing-up-stuff i'm driving into.

i am not ready to go quite yet – i still have a whole year ahead of me. 

i will make the most out of what i have. i will make the most out of what i am given. i will make the most out of who i am. i will make the most out of eighteen.

i am eighteen now.

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hello, seniors

dear seniors,

hello.

it's a weird feeling isn't it? being back? we're entering this new realm of teenagedom and it feels strange. it feels like we're almost adults – we are almost adults – but there still exists this surreal barrier that we have to break through to get there. 

i won't be surprised if we spend our days writing away our life stories in the next few months, trying to explain our identities in only a limited number of words and numbers. 

two days in, it's already stressful. i want the best for all of you, even if i don't say it to you all the time. we're all going to get there, to adulthood or whatever that means. this will be hard, i know. but we'll get there.

there's going to be a lot of stuff to look forward to.

i'm excited for it all, and to spend our last months together with you guys.

cheers to us,

izzy

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a whole month went by

hi,

it's been a good long while.

i've been traveling around the u.s. and abroad for various reasons... mostly preparing myself for the year ahead as i take on applying to college. 

yeah, i'm applying to college this year.

i don't really believe it either. 

i'm slowly realizing how much i'm growing up. not completely, but a little more fast that i'd like. 

i think i'm going to be ready though. i'm ready for a new push into life and a slow close of what i think is adolescence. 

i've been writing a lot, just not here obviously – supplements and essays and drafts about me and who i am. that's a bit weird... a quite large portfolio of autobiographical writing. 

i went out today with my friend and took photos for the first time in a long time. i've never actually done street photography before. this was my first shot at it. i kind of love it. 

summer's halfway over. i'm just a little ways there.

love, 

izzy

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