Art to me is many things at once, it feels like a poem. I once read that poetry chases the illusive reality that is found between the words written or spoken. That hollow space that is both real and indescribable. 


Art to me is made up memory.

A silent melody.

A puzzle.

The language between texture and color.

The quiet day.

A feast.

My organized neurosis.

Floating and arriving.

Carnage and despair.

A gift.


Veronica Padilla