My First YouTube Vlog: Honoring Your Authentic Self

Get in front of the camera, they said. People want to actually *see* the artist behind the work, they said. I heard all of this repeatedly and continued to ignore it until finally, I didn’t. That’s the thing about slowly conquering your fears though, resistance loves stepping in and making sure you avoid exactly that. The War of Art, a book by Steven Pressfield, is a powerful resource all about fighting these creative blocks if you’re looking for a push. It’s about battling the urge to run, hide and avoid the work you’re called to do. When you do finally push through, you’ll find that people resonate with you more than you ever imagined.

For my latest video, I took a leap outside of my comfort zone and a step in front of the camera. I take viewers on a behind-the-scenes look at my day when I have art projects to work on, showing them the art materials I use and chatting about how you can find a space to paint even when you don’t have a studio (most people don’t). I also include a time lapse of my latest painting, “Pressure” where I get real about my insecurities and the pressures to be perfect online. I found piecing the visual work with my writing to be especially cathartic. I even include some clips of what it looks like to ship a painting amidst all the clutter of an apartment we’re moving out of. It’s all imperfect, and that’s the truth.

From the Facetuned and polished Instagram influencers to the YouTubers with every brand deal under the sun, we live in a time where new creators feel like they need to compete at that same level right away to be seen at all. Remember when people created content they were passionate about instead of trying to sell themselves and their surroundings as a product first? Those were the days, and that’s what I turn to for inspiration when I need it.

I’d like to think that 2020 is a catalyst for change in more ways than we’re yet aware of. One of those shifts is that people are being forced to be still and honest with themselves — they’re getting in touch with what matters to them for the first time in years. I think this is calling for a new era of content. People who want to bring honesty, light and empathy onto popular platforms in a way that’s been missing in a sea of superficiality and commercialism are coming out of the woodwork.

At the end of the day, the importance and beauty of art is that it connects people from all walks of life — they see themselves reflected in someone else’s work and feel like they’re a part of something. When we’re honest about who we are and we show all the bits that aren’t always beautiful or easy, we create a space where people can unite and find common ground. I believe now is a crucial time in our lifetimes to shed our facades and lead with authenticity so we can come closer together.

My longterm goal is to never stop being sincere, never forget what this pandemic has taught me and to share work that spreads light in times where it’s needed most. I think we’re all being called to connect on a deeper level and I’m eager to see where it will take us if we listen.

Pressure | Original Abstract 12×12″ Acrylic Painting by Mariana R. Cabral

A Server’s Tale

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“Bars are the places where life in the city reveals itself…where ordinary people go have a drink, ponder the weather, and are always ready for a chat. Buy a newspaper and enjoy the ebb and flow of people.” -Paulo Coelho

Ah, the ebb and flow of people. Simultaneously enchanting and monotonous, especially from the perspective of someone partially responsible for the flow. Working on and off as a waitress for the past four years, a gig that’s helped me stay afloat through college and the aftermath, I’m no stranger to the bar habitat. I refill water glasses as strangers become friends, watch as people sip their first legal drinks, cut customers off who’ve been drinking for as long as I’ve been alive and behave like it’s their first time, clean up puke, watch break ups unfold, clear off plates at the end of a successful Tinder date, and so on. I play a part in the lives of strangers, peek into their existence, but only from a safe distance. I’m mostly a means to an end, but I’m used to it.

Last night, as I was asking a young man for his food order, he interrupted me mid-question to ask if he could take a photo of me. He was drunk. I was busy with other tables and didn’t feel like having my picture taken, not that I needed to explain myself. As I made my way to another table, I heard him say to his friend, “What else could she be busy doing? Making nine dollars an hour?” And much like those of us responsible for the flow often have to, I bit my tongue. I know how to pick my battles, and this newly 21-year-old wasn’t worth the breath – no matter how much I wanted to retaliate.

In the midst of my fury, my growing desire to tell him off, I watched his friends feel genuinely ashamed to be seen with him. I have to admit this felt good, but not as good as the choice to be bigger than them, to keep my cool under pressure. And that’s truly the key to serving it seems – keeping your cool, problem-solving with patience and empathy first. Skills that have taught me to understand why people behave the way they do. I often feel like a zookeeper tending to her animals, both maintaining a quiet sense of authority and assimilating to their energy. It’s intuitive and strategic, absolutely nothing like being a customer on the other side of the bar.

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Funny how much a bar transforms when you’re shift’s over and you can finally have a drink. You’re primal again, free at last. These are the moments you really get to know the regulars, your coworkers, the locals and strangers who no longer expect anything from you. You’re a person again, as wild as the other animals on either side of you. This is when I find truth in Paulo Coelho’s words about life in the city revealing itself. All of that strategic patience and empathy displayed during the job bleeds into your off time and pays off. Suddenly, though you might never have imagined it, these “strangers” respect you, trust you, unload onto you, buy you shots in appreciation if you’re lucky. You’ve made an impact in their lives, however big or small.

For so long, I focused most of my energy during server shifts feeling angry and disappointed in myself for being stuck in a job that didn’t align with my passion or calling. I would overlook the experiences with strangers and coworkers, conversations that made me see life differently, and the day-to-day challenges that helped me grow up. As soon as I walked out of that world, I’d miss it. The people and the world they contributed to latched onto me.

My first legitimate serving gig introduced me to incredible people, which led to some of the best experiences I had in college: steak dinners and wine at my boss’s house, bringing out pancakes to fellow students and friends, blasting music and pregaming at the diner before party-hopping on campus. The fast-paced environment, the constant problem-solving, provided me with a new, thicker, and far more resilient layer of skin that prepared me for the future. I owe a great deal of my evolution to bars and restaurants – the truest union of souls revolving around our most constant and dire needs: food, drink, and companionship. What could be more human?

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Painting 1: Michael Flohr

Painting 2: Alvaro Castaganet