We meet in BLOOD: I had my first show.. and it was underwhelming.

There was this moment of introspection that I took towards the end of the show that allowed space for me to truly think of why I was there. With those people, the artists, showing my work, and knowingly disengaging from the scene. On the deepest level I knew that I wanted attention. To break this down I also knew was needed due to the multiple layers of attention that various parts of me was calling for, is calling for.

The one that was layered on top, and I feel that I have been most influenced to think I should receive is the common “I’m a girl” doing stuff. Honestly, a very bland approach the act of showing up in the world. Though I strive to write this with as least judgement as possible, I think it’s important to allow for the conversation in my head to present itself the opportunity to be seen. [A deeper understanding of being seen that will be touched on in the coming parts of this essay.] Anyway, for starters, of course I see and LIGHTLY engage with someone who pieces of me felt like entertaining as eye candy all night. Of course they checked boxes of excitements that usually happen in the beginning of a flame that fizzle out due to the energy being backed by unsustainable and fleeting magic. Magic that has yet to find its landing, its rich, potent foundation that can hold onto the magic of another. I had to, in real time, watch, feel, and experience, those same parts of me that appreciate crushing at every little event, time period, and life changing moment die in all of its crevasses. As the beginning had such a surge, and overtime became this performance to upkeep something that I knew wouldn’t serve all of me. Something that I knew would lead to the demise of.. Those same boxes allowed for sight of etched in patterns of thought and understandings to flood my mind with, “maybe it’ll be different this time” Absolutely not. No longer will I be stuck in a circumstance of convincing, compromising, and performing and put myself on the line for another that won’t hold me. Truly hold ME. Not the one that I’m putting out for them to see, the one that they see because they really look me in the eyes with their sight intact. The one that won’t mind that I hold writing about our love dear to my heart. The one that will realize i’ve been writing about them this whole time. Knowing that writing to the spirit of love is my gesture towards accessing more parts of me that I put forth to throughly explore and will be ready for further discovering when they arrive in the physical. In all the ways they do, as lovers, sisters, and brothers. One thing to highlight is the notion that I am the one calling out my own performance. I, all by myself [beyond their end], decided to initiate the performance and the upkeep of it. I myself put my self in that predicament, every. single. time. I experience that version of love. On some level it is and always will be my choice, no matter the influence. No matter the conditioning, no matter “something” that pulls me to do so. It is me that has to actively choose to engage and contract. Check that.

Now, examining a very closely similar layer, my art being seen has been one that seems to have worked hard to get in there. One that won’t seem to fully release until I bring it here into the physical. [The reason I write] Why do I want my art to be seen? What does being an Artist mean to you? Very hard for me to reckon with because it changes how I show up to painting [a very loose practice and just one modality within my artistry] and determining the mode of transmission to another person’s eye, let alone home. Before, I had another similar version of influence surrounding my pull towards my work being seen, which guided my decision to submit for this show. The thought, that actually I put very little into, of “Submit into art shows, look up galleries, put into for a residency! This is the mark of an artist that you want.” When it is so much more than that. The deep unlocking that is happening is worth so much more than a lazy ass submission that happens in the form of the typical “What’s your name? Artist Statement? Up to 3 piece’s only” It’s, in my opinion a very poor practical experience to invest my time and efforts towards. Considering the fact that this was my first one that came about artificially (the curator posted the submission form on threads) I believed it served as such. It served the artificial parts of me that needed to see itself, in real time. Which I appreciated the opportunity to do so, giving true reverence to the time and space that I’m currently in. A deep integration portal I call it. A pocket of time where I am solely dedicating towards exploring and expressing the parts of me that I put away. The parts of me that really have the most pull in how I go about life. MY HUMAN SHIT. I mean not only was this the little girl me saying “mommy I did it” it was also one of the purest versions of show up and life will show up for you. The whole world working in my favor type shit. It was a beautiful thread to follow. Just when I think fully into the shadow goodness that it brought up, I think about how I allow for the pure form of taking up space to be filled with a literal expression of it. Beyond this being an exhibit of my first 36 x 48, it declared a very literal notion that I am allowed to take up space. This is where we give thanks to the duality in everything, because had I completely disregarded the artificiality, I would have never allowed myself to see why I accepted that in the first place. I would have never been able to nourish the parts of me that took that on to showcase itself. No matter how many strings it came with, it was such an intelligent piece of orchestration that, again I, chose to partake in so I can reach into true depths of what I didn’t know was even there to see.

Taking me to the living, organic, rich in blood shit that I’ve been feeling in to. The space that knew that the show would show me parts of myself that I was hiding, again, from my own self. The part of me that puts my union [spirits|mind|body|soul] back together every time I fall off. The parent in me. The one that holds me together by the seams because I stretch far and wide to experience all that I can before I break all the “tethers”. This part of me has been watching and in action for so long. She is used to the process, used to picking up the pieces. Used to feeling all there is so that my when my union comes back online, she will be there to remind it of the level of safety that has been cultivated at home. She’s that one that cleans up when little me doesn’t feel like it. She’s the one that leaves lovers/family/friends where they are, when they stay in limbo refusing to make their decision to act. The one that reminds me why I’ve made my internal home the way I have so that I can go as far as humanly possible without being ripped away from what is already mine. What we can call my birthrights. This is the part of me that truly deserves the gold. The one whose conversation deepens my awareness in everything. My richest spirit. My richest breath. The one that reminds me that I don’t actually have to stay on track because again, those that are meant to follow will. “God relates what he needs to, to each being respectively.” A rich saying that stands true in every dynamic.

This is that one that called me inward during the show. The one that truly told me to take it all in. The one that pulled me to truly inspect the thoughts that came, the dynamics of the room, the levels that people put themselves on to simply show up for the work they put in. I showed me who was more playing the game of monopoly. Who was saying “mommy I did it” with me. Who spoke from their heart while their friends galloped around them almost gridlocking them to the fake shit so they couldn’t truly soar. The one that reminded me that everyone there was making their choice that night. The choice to decide for themselves what it truly meant to be alive. To see one another, and experience all that comes with it. Including the moments where some fizzled out. Where some second guessed themselves. The ones that didn’t care because they truly knew that this was just a piece of them showing up to collect. Seeing the ones that knew that not all of them really needed to be there. There is a difference in showing up authentically and showing up with all of you.

The realization I’ve now come to. To show up authentically can look like so many things on any given day in any given moment. Truly. But to see all of me. Babes you need a pass for that. Why? Because that’s how life functions. There are moments that, again, guide us towards bringing parts of us forward to show and others that reminds us to close up. The ebb and flow. The knowing that we exist on more planes than we can count in this lifetime.

A call to action: Stop exposing more than you are actually ready to show up for. Stop moving your entire life based on fleeting magic. Explore the differences within the polarities. There are more than just the extremes in this life. Yes this is a dual one, though we must consider what it takes to go from one side to another. THAT’S the potency, that’s the rich, that’s the foundation. That’s the story. Believe that you are more than what you wish to discover. You are literally more than your experiences. You are your vessel and all the things that wish to be expressed from inside out. I love you, before, now, and forevermore. Why? Because we meet in blood. In the womb space we transcend, have transcended. I call on you to remember. I’m calling, and will be here when you decide to pick up. My love, I will see you soon.

HELIA SOUL | January 27th, 2025