Beautiful
imperfections Words and art by Belle Stockdale
W
hat is the purpose of art? Humans have asked this question for centuries. To me, the most important role art holds is communication. It is a way to convey the unutterable, to share a personal experience with others so they may grasp it, see it, feel it, understand it on a level that conversation cannot impart. I was in my final year of college when I became sick. After studying acting, and directing for a decade, by my senior year, I was unable to keep up with the many physical demands theatre requires. When my time stopped being consumed by constant rehearsals on my feet, I turned to art I could create on my ass. It all started with the ugly Ikea table taking up too much space in my tiny apartment. I hated looking at that cluttered, ring-stained surface. It was something so plain and neglected, but I knew it could be transformed into something better. Yet, I was nervous that I would somehow ruin it and be stuck with something I didn’t like. Then I wondered: how could putting love, time, and effort into something make it any worse? Once I finished the table adorned with cacti and flowers, I felt enormously proud of what I had created, but soon after, felt this strange sense of guilt come over me. I had been taught for so long that “good” art comes from trauma. I was led to believe that the only ways I could contribute to my artwork were through
personal pain. I looked at this cheerful, pink image and suddenly felt inauthentic. I’ve spent so much time creating art out of my trauma and pain. I would force myself to stay in these dark, depressed states in order to create something that mirrored my experiences. And that can be extremely dangerous. It took me so long to understand that my art can be whatever I want it to be. Ask me a question, and I will answer with complete honesty and transparency. Some of my best and proudest moments as an artist have come from exploring my personal pain and presenting it to others. It can be an extremely effective, proactive, and healthy way to work through trauma and communicate inner workings. However, my illnesses, my obstacles, my traumas, do not make up the sum of who I am. They are a piece of me; they have contributed to who I am and what I care about, and they are a part of my identity, but they do not define me. Through creating visual art, I realized something profound: I am allowed to paint what I want life to be as opposed to how I experience it now. I want to surround myself with images of progress, of light and growth, of beautiful imperfections. I use paint to convey the experiences that words simply cannot express. But, the majority of my
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