Teodora Georgescu

Writing, to me, has always felt like a living organism, something dug, planted and grown. Cherished and observed. Words on the page sometimes have limbs that reach out to me and shake me loose. My writing is constantly reassessed and trimmed or changed and so it never really stays the same, bearing the reflection of my own very movements. Part of why I write is that within this living colosseum of words and scribbles, I can begin to dig deeply into the complexity of my own thoughts. Allowing me to consolidate myself with the world around me. Whether I am being introspective or writing about something political, writing gives me the ability to look through a second pair of eyes and to see the different sides of what I may have thought to be a 2D surface. And so, writing first began for me through these emotive, introspective pieces that held the intimacy of a journal entry, a complete undressing of various elements of my identity that ruled my way of thinking at the time. Eventually transitioning to writing political pieces rooted these sentiments into real life and universal experiences, making my body of work feel cohesive and patchworked by a variety of experiences and phenomena.