I hate explaining myself. The nuances of my thoughts, my actions, my art—they’re like the notes of a symphony that can’t be translated into mere words. I don’t want to dissect how I draw or paint, how I perceive the world. These processes are intimate whispers of my soul, echoing through the canvas and the paper, not meant for dissection.

What I truly love is when people ask how I feel, how my art lives within them. That connection, that shared experience—it’s pure and unfiltered. It’s less about the mechanics and more about the emotion, the resonance. When someone lives my art, they become a part of my expression, a fragment of my universe.

Judgment, on the other hand, feels like a harsh chord in an otherwise harmonious melody. It disrupts the flow, the authenticity. It’s annoying, intrusive. My art is a part of me, and to judge it feels like judging my very essence.

So, I create in silence, letting my work speak for itself. In the silence, there’s a freedom—a sanctuary where I can be unapologetically myself. And in that space, I find a kind of peace that explanations could never bring. 🙏🏾❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer