On Being Sensitive
- Nov 17, 2016
- 1 min read
I've often thought about what role my sensitivity plays in my work. I wonder if people walk through the world the way that I do. I get the same thrill and sense of contentment from waking up to the pitter patter of raindrops on my window as I do from seeing an old friend after a long separation. The moon lights me up like nothing else, and a gentle breeze on a sunny afternoon stirs up intense, yet insignificant memories from my youth. When I am able to sit in silence, subtle pieces of my personality are revealed, and it is endlessly satisfying for me. In my early adulthood I was keenly aware of my emotional intelligence, my observational ability, and my capacity for deep and uninterrupted contemplation of a simple idea or feeling. I didn't know how this would come to serve me in life, but I was sure that it would. For a while it came out in the writing, and then I began to make prints. For me this expression is a way to share how I see the world, but also to understand what about my experience is a common one. I want to connect with others who move about their environment as I do, and who find the deepest truth in the silence.
Your reflection on how sensitivity shapes your art resonates deeply. The connection between personal experiences and creative expression is powerful. It reminds me of how sharing our unique perspectives can foster community, much like the shared experiences of players in Abyssus. Exploring sensitivity can lead to richer connections, both personally and within creative circles. Abyssus could offer some insights into finding that common ground in different contexts.