The Art of remembering yourself

To me, creative self-expression is not just about making something beautiful and alluring—it’s about bearing witness to who you are in a moment of time.

It’s a way of saying: I was here.

This is me—unfiltered and ALIVE, goddammit!

Remember being alive?? Remember that you are this magical, wonderful, chaotic, SYMPHONY of blood and vessels, and sinew, and muscle, and beating heart, and deep lungs, and EYES AND MOUTH AND FEET.

Fucking hell, we are a miracle and we better start ACTING like it or I’m gonna throw hands!

Now, of course, we are always going to self-edit and filter - we have to operate in a humane society with rules and regulations and codes of conduct. But in terms of being OUT, of being SEEN. This is how we reclaim our narrative before the world tells it for us.

That’s why I do photo shoots. It’s not about vanity or validation, but to remember. My mum once said to me: Beauty is wasted on the young.

And I really felt her when she said it.

What I understood is that we spend all our youth (and our most beautiful years) hating ourselves, being critical, some times even nasty and spiteful to ourselves. It was after those words that I really did, truly, commit to appreciating myself now. Not later.

Not: when I have lost XYZ weight.

Not: when my muscles are toned or XYZ.

Not: when my face looks like XYZ.

NOW.

It’s a choice.

Madison in South Congress, Austin, Texas, 2025

So that’s why I do it. To see myself clearly, before life moves on and I forget how it felt to be this version of me—bold, uncertain, still becoming. Each photo becomes a timestamp of my evolution. Sometimes I’m soft and surrendered, sometimes fiery and unapologetic.

But always, it’s me.

Self-expression invites us to stop waiting for permission. To explore the edges of who we are, to experiment, to document, to say I exist like this right now—and that’s enough. When we express ourselves creatively, we don’t just make art. We make memory.

So every shoot, every stroke of paint, every word, every image—it’s a promise. A promise to honor the woman I am today, before she becomes someone new.

To hold space for her strength, her chaos, her tenderness.

Because one day, I’ll look back and realize these moments weren’t just about capturing my face—they were about remembering my spirit in all its glory.

I encourage you to do the same.

Love you, M.

Madison Storm and her piece ‘JORI’ in Austin, Texas, 2025.