Sorolla | A Life Update

The situation: It's 2.14 AM, I just downed a Latte Espresso from the supermarket in hopes it would keep me awake enough to study, Mura Masa is playing in the background. I've had a really unproductive day which in my opinion is a wasted day. This is something I came to realize during my stay here (I'm still in Madrid for those who have no idea what the heck is going on haha). Before, if I spent my day just chilling, watching a tv show or something similar, I'd just brush it off as "Oh it's just one of those days". Now, I feel like a proper failure if I don't do something productive, or at least try to. So, that's why I'm here today, in hopes to clear my conscience of both not being active on the blog and not doing anything worth while today. Between trying to figure out what my life is right now and writing essay after essay, I haven't had much free time to dedicate to this blog, and I'm sad it came to this point. I've missed it, truly.

 Generalife, Granada by Sorolla

In hopes of not sounding too cliche I'll try to sum up my experience here so far with a metaphor. Yes, I'm using a metaphor and no, it's not because I've been studying mostly about Shakespeare's works for the past three months (okay, maybe a little bit).

This is Museo Sorolla. More precisely, this is the home and studio of Joaquín Sorolla, famed Spanish Impressionism painter. (Fun fact, his daughter was named Elena, which is actually not that fun now that I say it, but for me, it's like a sign haha). He created this place for it to be his personal oasis, his escape from the city and his sanctuary. He was a passionate traveller, he adored the seaside and would often go there with his family and would carry on to paint some of his most famous works inspired by these sights. He loved the south, therefore his house really does feel as if you are in an Andalusian patio. His works to me are like a photo, he captures movement and temporary moments in such a manner that makes you think that he was a photographer rather than a painter. He adored portraits, mostly painting his beloved family.

This place was one of the first things I discovered before coming to Madrid when I still wasn't sure if I would come here at all. I imagined myself sitting here, with my diary in my hand, enjoying the peace and quiet. I kept telling myself, "Oh come on, stop daydreaming about something that might not happen, you'll just hype yourself up and get let down, once again." Fast forward, if I could somehow transfer the feeling when I was actually in the garden, with my diary, writing, while the birds were chirping and the water fountain beside me was making the loveliest white noise, I would. This place became my sanctuary too. I wanted to be there forever, to never face the reality of not calling Madrid my home. I never thought I'd be able to enjoy my time somewhere with such immense passion and hope for it to last forever. And I know that might sound a bit too over the top, but I really thought I'd have a harder time adapting to this new situation, not to mention the fact that I was doing so many things on my own for the first time in my life. And I feel so grateful that I can say that I did that. If I could bring my family and closest friends here too, I'd do it in a heartbeat because I know they would love it as much as I do.  

I became independent here. I came to the conclusion that cooking relaxes me, that I love just walking around on my own, without headphones on, or just sitting in a cafe with a book. I also discovered a great passion. Much like Sorolla, I love taking portraits with my analogue camera, and capturing moments that tell a story. I did so many things that took me out of my shell, that made me more confident and believe that I have something to offer to the world. I never saw myself as an outgoing person, but I kept proving myself wrong with every passing day. And most importantly, I realized that it's not bad that I'm praising myself for a job well done, for moving forward instead of being at a standstill and acknowledging that. I need more, I want more. And if you too feel like this, and people around you are telling you that "you're changing", don't take it as an insult. For me, that's the greatest compliment a person can receive.

Women Walking on the Beach (1909)

 Sewing the Sail (1896)

 Bathtime (1909)