From a very young age, Isabel Burns has identified as an artist. From working with 2D and 3D art forms since preschool, to sewing as a child to using power tools at age 7, Isabel has been an active participant in the art world for most of her life. She has also honed her literary skills over the years.
According to Isabel, she is inspired by the world around her, her creative process often being guided by creating for others. Her process with writing is intuitive, often starting with “bloopers” to begin her journey. Although this may seem simple, Isabel's visionary landmarks create complex rhythmic literature that is inspirational to read. These so-called bloopers range from a one-worded concept like “wildflower” and “sunlight” to phrases that can spark deep analysis such as burnt sugar’s metamorphosis from solid to liquid or carriages never ending burden of existing as pulled weight. This collection of words allows for Isabel to create a collage. The first few lines of her newest work in progress are as follows;
“To dream is to swallow ice. The sharp inhale of solid liquid stabs like a knife in the throat. Scratching tears through warm flesh, as it melts smooth.
In her dreams, she walks through wildflower fields. Blades of tall grass cut softly through the space in-between her toes. Turning the white of her nails dark with soil.”
According to Isabel, she is inspired by the world around her, her creative process often being guided by creating for others. Her process with writing is intuitive, often starting with “bloopers” to begin her journey. Although this may seem simple, Isabel's visionary landmarks create complex rhythmic literature that is inspirational to read. These so-called bloopers range from a one-worded concept like “wildflower” and “sunlight” to phrases that can spark deep analysis such as burnt sugar’s metamorphosis from solid to liquid or carriages never ending burden of existing as pulled weight. This collection of words allows for Isabel to create a collage. The first few lines of her newest work in progress are as follows;
“To dream is to swallow ice. The sharp inhale of solid liquid stabs like a knife in the throat. Scratching tears through warm flesh, as it melts smooth.
In her dreams, she walks through wildflower fields. Blades of tall grass cut softly through the space in-between her toes. Turning the white of her nails dark with soil.”
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Although she is always combining figurative and narrative writing, Isabel’s work tends to lie with poetry. She describes her passion for poetry stemming from the freedom that it empowers her to have. Manipulating punctuation and capitalization to create a more meaningful impact is something that she has been experimenting with for a long time, and it makes her writing ever more intriguing. Isabel’s writing is like a puzzle that the reader must piece together, going back and forth between the lines to truly understand its complete meaning.
Isabel’s writing is absolutely ingenious, but so are her other focuses. Recently, she has explored the themes of nostalgia, childhood, innocence, and boredom in her work. In the following pieces, you can delve into her favourite pieces from all 3 mediums of 2D, 3D, and literature.
Isabel’s writing is absolutely ingenious, but so are her other focuses. Recently, she has explored the themes of nostalgia, childhood, innocence, and boredom in her work. In the following pieces, you can delve into her favourite pieces from all 3 mediums of 2D, 3D, and literature.
Dear Ed by Isabel Burns
Dear Ed,
My dearest lover.
Firmly rooted in me, your affection is traceable in my gums.
The erosion visible in the acid I regurgitate for your pleasure.
I’ve always salivated at the feet of your prosperity.
Downed the satiating anecdote from your breast.
But the full fat truth stays far from my lips.
I value our time together.
I love our grocery store dates, late nights at home, and long walks on the sands of my psyche.
My hair is pulled out by your serrated teeth,
and I make snow angels in the dandruff.
When I watch my reflection in the toilet bowl I snake my arm down towards the pit that is you.
I am always reaching for you.
You tried to leave me twice now, each time longer than the last.
Welded in the heat of my tears, your rough palms stick to mine. I cannot fathom a world without your hand to hold.
And you know me like the back of my hand.
Like the lining of my stomach that aches as my abs flex around my index and pointer finger.
I’ve only been in one other relationship.
A queer manifestation of puppetry,
I sat in the complacency of that other person before realizing that,
I can lust only for you.
You are my past, present and future.
You are the toothpaste I squeeze from the tubes I refuse to call empty.
You are the cutlery that I clutch in my pale hands.
You are a release, a comfort, a friend.
I am forever yours.
Love,
Isabel
Dear Ed,
My dearest lover.
Firmly rooted in me, your affection is traceable in my gums.
The erosion visible in the acid I regurgitate for your pleasure.
I’ve always salivated at the feet of your prosperity.
Downed the satiating anecdote from your breast.
But the full fat truth stays far from my lips.
I value our time together.
I love our grocery store dates, late nights at home, and long walks on the sands of my psyche.
My hair is pulled out by your serrated teeth,
and I make snow angels in the dandruff.
When I watch my reflection in the toilet bowl I snake my arm down towards the pit that is you.
I am always reaching for you.
You tried to leave me twice now, each time longer than the last.
Welded in the heat of my tears, your rough palms stick to mine. I cannot fathom a world without your hand to hold.
And you know me like the back of my hand.
Like the lining of my stomach that aches as my abs flex around my index and pointer finger.
I’ve only been in one other relationship.
A queer manifestation of puppetry,
I sat in the complacency of that other person before realizing that,
I can lust only for you.
You are my past, present and future.
You are the toothpaste I squeeze from the tubes I refuse to call empty.
You are the cutlery that I clutch in my pale hands.
You are a release, a comfort, a friend.
I am forever yours.
Love,
Isabel