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I tried pour painting

My friend gave me a set of old pour paints and silicon oil to use, I've never done pour painting, so this was a first, and even though it was an ugly work to some, I think it felt very freeing to make something not for the look, but the feel, after months of depression and recovery it felt freeing to make this.

I started out trying to make it pretty and aesthetic, a purple and black and white piece of art to gaze at and talk about, nothing more. But as I went on I added acrylic paint, I stored, I tried different things, and I think I reflected on myself while doing so: I used to never show unfinished work, I never showed my mistakes, my fuck ups, I hid them behind walls of insecurity. My life has always been bordered by darkness, a frame around my life that I couldn't overlook. Swirls of red rage and blue sadness blended, emotions always mixing, filling with greyness and numbness. But amongst those swirls were streaks of white and gold. Gold that reached out and broke the borders of darkness, piercing, daring to be seen, not drowned in the gloss of paints. This determination and ambition couldn't drown within me. But even amongst that hope still was darkness, some things don't go away, they just get smaller. I filled that darkness with light, and within that light I would still find darkness, but it kept growing smaller, smaller, till the white and black mixed and became something I could live with the ups and downs.

Then, when I turned my back to wash my hands, watching the grey paint on my fingers go down the drain, staining my finger tips, my carelessness had smeared the center and the border.. and yet, I wasn't mad, the opposite really. The gradient mix of the light and dark felt truer to me, this accident later changing my perspective on something is not the first or last of many accidents that have changed my life, and that's beautiful. As I painted I listened to Solas by Jamie Duffy, the quiet opening that turned into swelling almost enchanting middle, to a quiet, reflective end was enough for me to change a silent painting session where I just played with paints to a reflection of my life over the past few years. A painting that came from a gift, a surprise, something I hadn't known but was given also gave me this freedom that I had been building for months, to sometimes, not care about the here or now, the future and past, but to let paint hit the canvas, carve into the mountains of paint, and just feel it, I saw myself, a reflect, no matter how ugly it may be, because my soul doesn't have to be pretty for others, it is mine and I will love it as mine.