Embracing Vulnerability: The Heart of My Artistic Journey

The Weight of Three Binders

When I was eighteen years old, my adoptive mother handed me three thick binders filled with hundreds of pages—documents that chronicled my life in meticulous detail. These binders contained everything about me: who I was before I entered the world, the circumstances of my birth, and the trajectory of my years in foster care. They weren’t just papers; they were the narrative of my life, written by strangers who observed, judged, and documented me from a distance.

Opening those binders flooded me with vulnerability. Page after page, my life was dissected, analyzed, and preserved in ink—moments I had lived, moments I had forgotten, and moments I didn’t even know existed. It felt like standing in front of a mirror for the first time. I saw every flaw, every scar, and every truth reflected back at me. I realized that vulnerability was not something I could escape. It was a necessary part of understanding who I was and, ultimately, who I wanted to become.

Vulnerability as the Artistic Foundation

This realization has profoundly shaped my personal journey and my art. Vulnerability is at the core of my creative process. When I approach a piece, I begin with an openness to explore the truths I often shy away from—truths that feel too raw, too tender, or too uncertain. Art becomes the space where I can lay those truths bare, and be honest about my pain, questions, and resilience.

The importance of vulnerability in art cannot be overstated. At its core, art is a dialogue. This dialogue flows not just from the artist to the viewer, but also from the artist to themselves. Art asks questions, wrestles with meaning, and dares to reveal what might otherwise remain hidden. Vulnerability allows that dialogue to be authentic. Without it, art risks becoming superficial—a surface with no depth, a story with no soul.

Embracing Imperfection

For me, vulnerability in art means embracing imperfection. It means allowing the messy, unpolished parts of life to find their way into the canvas, the words, or the design. It means giving space for emotions that don’t have neat resolutions—grief, anger, hope, and love tangled together. It’s about showing up fully, even when it feels uncomfortable, and trusting that the process will lead to something meaningful.

Through vulnerability, my art becomes a bridge. It connects my personal story to the universal human experience, inviting others to step into their own truths. For those who have never experienced foster care, addiction, or trauma, my work offers a glimpse into those realities. It provides a chance to see beyond labels and statistics and into the heart of what it means to live through such experiences.

Reflection for Shared Stories

For those who share my story, my art becomes a mirror. It reflects back the struggles and resilience that often remain unspoken. It says, “You are not alone. Your story matters. Your pain matters. And your healing matters.” Vulnerability creates a space for connection, allowing people to see themselves in the work and find a sense of belonging, even amid their struggles.

The power of vulnerability in art lies in its ability to transform pain into meaning. When I create, I’m not just processing my experiences; I’m building a path toward healing for both myself and others. This process allows me to take the words that once confined me and use them to tell a new story—one of strength, empathy, and hope.

The Call to Action

Art also serves as a call to action. Vulnerability reminds us that healing is not a solitary endeavor. It is communal, requiring openness, connection, and shared humanity. By being vulnerable in my work, I hope to inspire others to embrace their own truths. I want to encourage them to use their voices—whether through art, words, or action—to create change in their communities.

Ordered and Decreed, 2023, Ink on paper, 8x10

Courage in Vulnerability

Ultimately, vulnerability in art is about courage. It’s about standing in the light, even when the shadows feel overwhelming. It’s about saying, “This is who I am. These are the pieces of my story, and I will use them to build something beautiful.” Vulnerability doesn’t erase pain, but it transforms it. It takes what is broken and makes it whole in a way that resonates far beyond the self.

Through my art, I’ve learned that vulnerability is not just a tool for expression—it’s a way of living. It teaches us to embrace the full spectrum of human experience and to connect deeply with ourselves and others. It is through vulnerability that we find the courage to heal, the strength to share, and the power to create something that truly matters.

And remember, art is the echo of what survived.

Your favorite artist,

JUBA