White Walls

There is something about white walls that completely terrifies me. Unlike some people who find them to be a refreshing clean slate when I see a blank wall I feel like I am suffocating. Like all of the juices have been sucked out of me and I am being weighed down by the blank-ness.  

There is this theory in the fine art world about the gallery aka the white cube. The reason that art galleries are for the most part painted white is so that when you come into the space you can judge the art without the outside world influencing your point of view on the piece. I can completely understand this yet for some reason I am still slightly bothered by the idea of having to paint the walls white in order to appreciate the art. To me I see this act as creating a vacuum to rid the viewer of culture, experience and the outside influence that created the person that created this art piece. To rid the viewer of life essentially. 

White suffocates me and I feel like I'm drowning when I walk into a room that has nothing on it's walls. My walls are for the most part covered with images, nic-nacs, jewelry and clothing. I turn my four corners into an oasis of constantly flowing inspiration from a wide variety of sources. When I walk into a white room I feel like all of that inspiration is stuck inside of my head and I have a pressing desire to scream and break out of this vacuum by covering the walls in lengthy turbulent words, bleeding emotions and colorful creativity. 

There's something about white walls that just doesn't sit well with me and perhaps it is simply the rebel inside. I understand that I create work that simply reads better on a white wall rather than a black one and that is something that has taken me a very long time to accept. White is not always a vacuum but a space to breath and that's how many people read it. My blog will be going through a major re-design soon so these thoughts on my bitter-ness against white and naive attachment to black are in the process of being hashed out and overcome. Recognition is the first step to recovery or so they say. I hope they are right because I need to get over myself and learn to embrace all the greatness that white has to offer. 

The dress that I am wearing in these photos is from Guess and it was a very difficult decision for me to make to purchase it. Not that I don't enjoy it greatly and find it's sweetheart Little Bo-Peep vibe appealing but that it seems too sweet or too clean to me, much like my feelings towards the white wall. In the end I obviously bought it and love the way it fits and looks against my skin tone but for some reason or another it doesn't feel 110% me. Maybe wearing it to a picnic in a jokingly stereotypical picnic outfit way but otherwise I would pair it with boots, my Comme des Fuckdown beanie and a sweater or shawl of some ragged sort. However 'me' is a constantly evolving thing so perhaps this dress was my subconscious self trying to unveil another aspect of my personality that I have been avoiding for less than obvious reasons. On an unrelated note the photos above and below were recently accepted by Photo Vogue; couldn't be happier :)