Siren of pure heart
I Have been called a Siren many times in my life when only in 2026 I realised it was just a projection of their vision (usually with negative connotations). When I had urgency to paint myself as a mermaid, create a sculpture as a mermaid, the pull toward sirenesk mythical creatures was just a simple thought, or so I thought. Once this beauty was birthed through paint to page I spent days starring at her. I thought, is this vain? did I want to just paint myself as beautiful as I could be ? And then. I realised I just am- Beautiful and Free. Men tended to place my joy of life as a marvel of their own, my voice as something alluring yet death may be on the other side, they blamed me for their jumps to their demise, they told me stories of how what I am is evil and I must not have pure intent- that I am something not to be trusted because of my beauty? Maybe I didn't want you to die? Maybe I was just singing pure truth from my heart on a rock at sunset. Maybe I did see you and wanted to sing to you with pure vunerability in a way many men cannot experience that it drew you crazy and then you said it was my magic song that lead you to death not your own two feet you stand upon? Maybe I knew the dangers of the waters of love as I am custodian of the sea and I was trying to sing you safely home to the shore where your legs can be free? Maybe I did not want you to die yet your actions and your tales of us all, your hatred for my kind- I began to believe, so I spent eternity swimming free in the Sea and occasionally peaked over the reef at you on the sand- wanting so desperately to sing words of love to you but staying away at the dangers you told me of our love. Your kind do accept the freedom of mine, and the anger some of mine have shown when you damage our world has named us 'evil monsters' to your kind. This painting holds the old versions of me, the love of renaissance, romance and realism. It welcomes the element of my squiggles that are a conversation with God and expression, the creation of my own language and the essence of culture- the story telling and shell necklace I have placed around my waist of protection that my Palawa Ancestors of the Sea, the Sky people weaved by hand.
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