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I have always been close to art. I was drawing before I could write. As weird as it sounds, I’ve been so close to it that I never really considered it as a career option. Art was just a part of my life and I knew it would always be. Growing up in a conservative and strict environment, painting was my moment to let go. I’ve always been ridden with crippling anxiety and detrimental perfectionism. The infinite choices in life freeze me with fear. In painting, I found a window to let go of judgement and feel joyfully free.

The decision to become a professional artist happened at a moment I was paralyzed with options. After five years of studying painting and art history, I was faced with the daunting task to choose a career path. I was scared. Deep down, I knew I wanted to be an artist, but at the time this seemed ridiculous. It was like willingly leaping into a pitch dark abyss. At least, it certainly felt like it. Against all common-sense advice and logical reasoning, I decided to follow my gut. I squeezed my eyes shut and jumped.

I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I decided to commit myself to such a big undertaking two years ago, but I am immensely thankful to the past Isa for following her gut. For two years I’ve crawled, stumbled, walked, and stumbled again. It’s been a journey of arduous self improvement. Deciding to be a professional artist takes much more than honest art. It takes structure, self-discipline, self-love and a blind belief in oneself.

My new body of work is a visual history of these past two years. They are pieces that have accompanied me through this journey and are now ready to be let go. A new chapter is beginning.

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