While writing LitMiH, I kept coming back to bullets. They became a theme in my art as I wrestled with a nameless taste in my mouth, an agonizing ache in both my spirit and my body. Sure, “this too shall pass” is a helpful quote for some people, sometimes. But when the “this” doesn’t pass until I do too, I needed something else.
Prayer became my word for whatever it took to keep living. I didn’t want to, when I started this project, but that’s nothing new. Most of my days are a struggle between pouring myself into this work and wanting everything to be over. That struggle shows itself through several motifs in my art: bones, candles, blades.
Hearts in various states of distress and disarray.
Some mix of hope and hurt; horror and heart.
(And isn’t that just like life?)
I constantly find myself wondering if the beautiful moments make up for the atrocities that seem endless, destined to recur in infinite iterations of sorrow. The thought is frightening, exhausting, overwhelming. I know the comfort of small joys, kind friends, and warm surprises. With every fiber of my being, I hope that others experience similar comforts too—and in whatever ways possible, I hope my work does the same.
They Gave Me Bullets and I Made Them My Crown
Brush Pen on 9x12 Marker Paper
October 2024
V. H. King's Ink 
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