Personal Statement Sophia Serruya Monteiro

 My senses are a passageway, an interpreter in this world. My poor vision has shown me the world’s great shapes, the blobs and blurs rather than its intricate details. I used to have no voice, no way of communicating outside of my own thoughts; words are limiting and challenging to articulate compared to a visual that can be endlessly interpreted.

Sometimes I understand where my life is, what it was and what it will be. Sometimes I stop and question these assumptions. I could see the world pragmatically, a collective of flawed organisms within the possible dangers, or I could create my own artistic perspective, in which I notice the true beauty and uniqueness in everything—reciprocating my appreciation through my art. I often remind myself that I have free choices and an avid imagination. My human rights are free. Liberating.
The tribulations of my life began when I donned glasses for the first time. They were nerdy purple rimmed oval lens, the earliest preview of my emotional maturity that suppressed my individuality. It was third grade and I had exaggerated squinting and blurring my own eyes for the sake of a stylish accessory, but unfortunately it was worse than I made it up to be. Having my vision depend on this inanimate object was a wish I regretted instantly; I was not free to be wild and messy like a kid is bound to be, since I had a new responsibility, to have it clean and fixed. My world at that age grew on dependability and so did the unstable trust I had with the people around me; I had no one to truly depend on and the restrictiveness on my emotional boundaries had heightened my vulnerability.

Communicating my thoughts without tears overflowing was challenging for me; my body’s unconscious rejection of confrontation. Who was willing to patiently listen over my ramblings? And so I directed my convoluted emotions within illustrations—keeping sketchbooks and doodles full of creativity and hidden meanings on the sidelines of my elementary school journals. Although I was still taunted in school and by distant family members for my extreme sensitivity, drawing became the one thing that has kept me safe and brought me comfort through all my years. Drawing gave me the solace I needed and deserved. The consistency in my artwork gave me the opportunity to drown out the noise, offering mellow acceptance for myself. Years of practice in self-taught art has also brought me self-taught acknowledgement as-well.

The glasses, the symbol of my emotional turmoil throughout my youth; Each coming year my lens prescription would increase as my vision got worse and as much clarity that it had visually brought, the extreme self-awareness became destructive; it had led to discomfort, a burden in the walls of my own skin. But it also allowed me to significantly grow as a person, it strengthened patience, perspective, dedication and most importantly empathy. These factors have given me the tools I need to tell a story within a painting, having every detail reflect my message. I want to be able to not only describe my imaginative ideas, but also help others come to terms with themselves- giving them the reassurance to express themselves freely while diminishing the boundaries.