In a world where speed often equates to success, I find myself swimming against the current as a slow and deliberate artist. The pressure to produce quickly can be overwhelming, especially when surrounded by the seemingly effortless creations of others. But I've come to accept and even embrace the unique rhythm of my art practice, where each stroke is a deliberate expression of my innermost thoughts and emotions.

For me, inspiration doesn't strike instantly; it seeps into my consciousness through dreams and daydreams, slowly taking shape over time. My work is deeply personal, revolving around themes of love, existence, trauma, and healing. Each piece is a reflection of my own experiences and emotions, making the creative process a journey of self-discovery and introspection.

Take, for example, a recent digital piece that took me a staggering eight months to complete. As I reviewed the data tracking my progress in Procreate, I was surprised by the sheer amount of time and effort invested. The numbers spoke volumes: Total strokes: 95355, tracked time: 108 hours and 49 minutes.

But upon reflection, I realized that every stroke, every minute spent, was a testament to the depth of emotion and vulnerability crafted into the artwork. It wasn't just about the numbers; it was about the journey behind them.

The process of creation extends far beyond the physical act of drawing or painting. Weeks of contemplation and daydreaming precede the first sketch, each iteration and adjustment guided by intuition and emotion. It's a slow and deliberate dance between heart and hand, with no shortcuts or quick fixes.

While I may envy the organizational skills and discipline of artists who work quick, I've come to understand that my own pace is an essential part of my creative identity. My art is not just a product of skill or technique; it's a reflection of my journey, my struggles, and my growth as an individual.

In a world that often values speed over substance, I choose to embrace the beauty of slow creation. Each piece is a labor of love, an act of resistance to reclaim time and rest in my practice. And while my process may not always be productive within capitalism, it is undeniably genuine—an honest documentation of my existence.

So, to my fellow slow creators, I say this: Embrace your pace. In a world that's always in a hurry, your willingness to slow down and truly connect with your craft is a gift—one that deserves to be honored.