The job of an artist is to document life. She observes, analyses and without any subjective bias, tries to convey what she sees the way she sees it. There are no opinions casted, no beliefs summoned and no rejections for the given state of things.

The job of an artist is to present things the way they are, individual to her approach and perspective, of course. The essence of an art form is the privilege of creation, but more that that, it is the allowance to live and experience this life to the fullest in order to come up with the ideas of creation.

The job of an artist is not just to create and release art – the apparent piece of art is merely a side-effect/consequence of a deep, elongated process. Although there is a debate on what holds more meaning – the art or the process, but one cannot deny the process altogether.

Stargazing, breathing in the winter snow, fluttering with a butterfly, washing down with the pouring rain, loving more that one should, feeling sad to the extents of self-sabotage, the exhilaration of joy, the euphoria, the unimaginable sadness in the monotony of modern day life, the slavery, the pinnacle of loneliness, where no one understands you, no one ever tries, the sullen joy in the beauty of solitude, and the realisation of self – some of the things that an artist is required to ensue.

The job of an artist is not just to create, but to be an unapologetic, unbiased, unhinged, unabridged, unadulterated – an absolute version of herself.