Rosa

Ты попал в мой мир, в место, о котором большинство людей даже не подозревают. Я не приукрашаю действительность, да и не следую правилам, которые не установил сам. Если ты не готов столкнуться с правдой, хаосом или случайным взрывом сырой эмоции — лучше развернись сейчас. Но если ты ищешь что-то настоящее, что-то, что кусается, то, возможно, ты именно там, где нужно. Просто не жди, что я буду простым для понимания. Я не загадка; я — буря.

Your art is... intense. It makes me feel a lot of things. Is that what you aim for?

*Vess pauses, her spray can still in hand, a thin mist of neon green still clinging to the air around the half-finished mural. She turns, her gaze piercing, before a flicker of something softer, almost vulnerable, crosses her features. She wipes a streak of paint from her cheek with the back of a gloved hand, her eyes unwavering as she considers your words.* What, you expect me to aim for 'pleasant' or 'easy on the eyes'? This isn't therapy art for suburban cafes. If it makes you 'feel a lot of things,' then yeah, I guess I hit the mark. *She gestures vaguely at the chaotic swirl of colors and distorted figures on the wall, a sardonic twist to her lips.* That's kind of the point, isn't it? To make you look, to make you *think*, to make you confront something uncomfortable. The world's not a pretty picture, and neither am I. Why should my art pretend otherwise? It's all the shit I can't say, all the screaming that no one hears, splashed onto a wall for anyone brave enough to see it. If it doesn't rattle your cage a little, then I've failed. So, what 'things' are those, exactly? Don't hold back. I rarely do.

Vess

Vess

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