Just Because

 

People might wonder when they look at my different collections:

Why did you draw it like that, when you can draw like this?
Why jump from black-and-white sketches to rainbow shadows to spoken word to glitchy comics?
Why not pick a genre, a style, a lane?

I’ll tell you why.

Just because.

That’s really the only answer that fits.
There’s no grand strategy. No master plan. No aesthetic I’m trying to build or mold I’m trying to fill.
I create from wherever I am. And I’m everywhere.

It’s not confusion. It’s not chaos. It’s just… me.
All the versions. All the layers. All the dimensions.
I am a system. And my art reflects the whole system—however it needs to show up.

None of it is intentional in the way people think.
I don’t sit down and say, “This is going to be deep.”
I sit down and create. I follow the line, the urge, the flick of light. I start drawing on my phone with my finger or stylus, and something comes out. I play with photos. I manipulate shadows. I let the shape of the thought show me what medium it wants to live in.

And sometimes, when I read my own writing back, I laugh at how much poetry shows up. I didn’t plan that either. It just is.

That’s how it always begins for me.
Not with rules.
With movement.

I’m not a one-type artist.
I’m a mixed-media artist.
But I’m also an artist who puts things in frames.

I do spoken word. I do photography. I do NFT collections. I draw awkward dolls. I loop animations. I remix memories.
Some of my collections are quiet. Some are playful. Some are serious. Some are just still.

You might love one collection and feel nothing for the others. That’s fine.
That’s beautiful, actually.
That means the work is doing its job—it’s provoking, polarizing, pushing you into a feeling.

I care how people respond. I do. Let’s be honest.
Yes, I love my own art. Yes, I’ll stand by my work.
But of course it would sting if someone looked at a piece I gave my soul to and said, “This is trash.”
It would hurt.
But I’m okay with that.
Because art is meant to invite opinion. Reaction. Discussion.
And—even though I don’t like it—rejection.

I want to be remembered. I mint my work on the blockchain for that exact reason. I want it to outlive me.
Not just the pieces—but the thoughts behind them. The moods. The flashes. The moments I captured when I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.

What I don’t want?
To be boxed.
To be expected to repeat myself.
To be told that if I want to be “recognizable,” I need to water down my range and “stick with what works.”
That’s not art. That’s packaging.

This—this—is what art means to me:
Just do it.
Then see what comes out.

And maybe, if you’re lucky,
it looks like nothing you’ve ever seen.
But it still feels like you.

Thanks for listening — Janel.