Welcome to my blog! On here I share 1) my personal artwork, mostly in the form of writing, 2) my opinions and observations of the artwork of others, and 3) some random thoughts of my own that don't really fit into either category. Feel free to take a look!

Personal Artwork 
Opinions and Observations 
  • Taylor Louise

There are different implications of being a black foreigner, just as there are implications of being a black citizen. Traveling While Black is a handbook, a necessary guide. There are different implications of being a spec of color among white than there are for being a spec of white among color. White is money. Money is belonging. All else is other. Black people are othered at home. Just as they are more readily othered abroad. I don’t know if I can ever feel like a carefree backpacker, traveling with my European skin and hair, making me feel invincible. Don’t have enough money? That’s alright, your status elevates you. You are the emblem of beauty, of power, of success. The world assimilates itself to your highlights, your eye color, your languages so you can feel at home anywhere. There is a pocket, a space for you everywhere. Like Bong Joon Ho said, we all live in the same country--which is capitalism. We all live in the same country--it has the counties sexism, patriarchy, racism, colorism, misogyny, classism, ableism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia. These are the counties that we exist in everywhere. At home and abroad. So there is no rest, no home for the other. Only a foreignness--one that is not trendy. One that is confusing, displacing, anxiety-inducing, neurosis-spawning, internal-crises-creating. An identity of discomfort. Of pretending not to be watched while all eyes stare at you. While others draw nearer or retreat further to inspect or to shun. Subaltern. Unspeakable. Impossible association on the basis of appearance. Now some of us can handle it better than others. Some of us can pass through a crowd with a song and dance riveting enough to make those of The Similitude lenient. Some of us have convincing code-switches and a masala mestiza of genes. But we all carry our true passports in our hearts and there comes a time--sooner or later--when the papers are demanded of us. Where are you from, really from? Why do you or don’t you speak or behave the way I am used to someone of your appearance speaking or behaving? Why are you here? The summation of their queries. Why are you here and not in your own corner of the world? Your own home that our gentrification has passed over and allowed to persist, malignant, benign. Why would you venture outside of the confines of my understanding of you? A constant alienation. But for others, the chosen, privileged, historically dominant groups. To them the world says: Welcome. Please enjoy your stay. You are welcome here.


something I drafted with a creative writing prompt in mind

  • Taylor Louise


Below I have attached a very rough draft of a screenplay that I have been working on for a looong while. This story has gone through several iterations and means a great deal to me. I am very excited to put it out into the universe in this way and see what comes of it.

Of course I welcome feedback, comments, and thoughts but I will admit that I am very tender when it comes to this story because it is a very recent work of mine--also it is a work in progress--and I am just dipping my toes into the process of sharing my work again.

With that being said I'm sure there may be some typos or even some little editor's notes in there that I've left for myself. Hopefully I've taken them all out; but even if not, I still want to share the draft as it is now. This is a very very vulnerable thing for me but I've made a commitment to myself to be more open about my work, especially since I'm serious about pursuing this career.

I posted the script in picture/slideshow format, because there's a significant amount of it and I didn't want it taking up too much space. Because of this, the pictures may take a while to load, especially if you're reading on your phone (although, I have to say, the bigger the screen, the better for this post). Be patient with the loading process because one picture is about two pages of copy so it represents a significant chunk of the story. Hopefully, there aren't too many technical difficulties.

Thanks for reading!!! And not to be too sentimental but this is the first time I've ever attached my name (and not a pseudonym) to my work in any "long-form" format so this is very big for me. Enjoy!

[Keywords: action, drama, romance, lgbtq+]

Like I said this is a story that I have worked on for a long time and that I'm still working on. I see a broad expanse of time laid out for these characters and so I felt that an episodic format would work best. I have a lot more content for these characters and I will be continually creating and editing more. Once those parts are done I definitely intend to share them as well so stay tuned!

Also, as my professor once told me, "the screenplay" is not meant to be a finished art-form. So yes, in the future I do see myself adapting these screenplays into something cinematic.

Thanks again for reading!

  • Taylor Louise

Here's a poem I shared at a poetry slam/open mic night (that I wrote about in my "Slam Poetry" entry).

When I first saw the light go out of your eyes,

I had blown them out like candles,

Ignoring the projection of you I had

worshipped for so long,

Ignoring the way your eyes changed colors like an underwater sunset,

Facing the truth.

But even now, I won't lie, they still retain a

bit of their former luminescence.

When I first saw the light go out of your eyes,

A fuse had suddenly blown and like a

blackout, I was left in darkness.

I searched for you there,

Reaching out my hands for anything I

could find or feel of you,

But you were not ready to be found, not yet.

Never have your eyes been so black as

right now, and yet, so beautiful.

When I first saw the light go out of your eyes,

They had only flickered, a moment of indecision.

After the lapse, all returned to normal,

But for a second you had forgotten to love yourself.

Never has a second scared me so much.

I'd hate to see those lights get dimmer.


Whew this takes me back to being sixteen and freshly in love with literature. Fun fact: I wrote this poem about three separate people. I'll also attach a video of me performing this! Thanks for reading!