No one ever asked me why I’m an artist, so I’ll explain it myself. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being an archaeologist or a paleontologist. But bullies, teachers, relatives, and adults found it funny to target me, smashing my fossil collections or dismissing my passion as worthless. They told me it was time to grow up and forget about dinosaurs, ancient Romans, or knights.

So, around the age of 12 or 13, I gave up my dreams, threw away my precious fossils, changed my appearance, and stopped studying. Anyone who tried to approach me was met with resentment and profanity.

Despite this, I always painted, drew, and did art. Before this situation, but after that moment, I became even more connected with it. I expressed my rage, frustration, and ideas through my drawings, which were often seen with disgust by art teachers who wanted apples and horses. I started working at 14, while still studying, as was the norm in my city. It was a place where cancer caused by industrial pollution was glorified as a badge of honor, and education was seen as unnecessary. But despite everything, even when I was filthy with grease and shit from broken toilets, I always had a pen or something else in my hands or somewhere in my work uniform so I used to draw, paint, and create whenever I had five minutes alone.

Eventually, I realized that making art was the most natural thing for me, the only way to escape from a world that I hated because it broke my dreams. I said to myself that I do art not because I love it, but because it’s the thing that I know how to do very well and without thinking too much. So, it was time to find the courage to pursue a career as an artist and stop once and for all to listen to what others thought I had to do. It wasn’t a form of rebellion or a dream for me; it was just my true nature, which I never accepted because it was hated by those around me. I decided to accept it myself to see my real face in front of a mirror broken long ago by the people around me.

Anyway, That’s all for Today…💀