AMINA MALIK

Peoria, Illinois / Artist

I am Amina, my pronouns are she/her. I am a student and an artist. I paint about community, collectivity, spirituality, and my body.

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I accidentally cut my finger. Twice?

(25/4/2020)





I work at an archives library that is dedicated to the life and works of Abraham Lincoln. For the past few weeks, I have found myself stressed in the midst of transitioning from a traditional curatorial library to well, my bed. I now know that the small talk which takes place in an online server before asking questions regarding a task is actually worse than small talk which takes place with two humans in the same room. A sense of guilt also arises, the guilt of knowing that I can finish an entire season of Schitt’s Creek per shift. A few nights ago Lincoln visited me in my dream. Well, a crossover between a middle-aged Hasidic Jewish man, and the man who signed the Emancipation Proclamation. From what it appeared, he was offering me a carrot. He was also about to take a tab of acid.

(18/4/2020)



this is not the first time i found my self dream in such a way. often in my dreams, i find myself unable to walk, as though i have lost all the joints in my lower half, making me un capable of escaping the unknown. as though my knees have disappeared. i dream of humiliation. often i find myself naked. without any form of shelter protecting my skin. for a moment it feels nice, when the fresh air touches my skin. but then, because i don’t have knees, i can not run to seek refuge. last night, i dreamed as if i was about six, and it was seven in the morning. lahore was painted with a blue sky, the morning was perfect actually, but it definitely confused me as to why i was about to walk into my kindergarten class, clothe-less. i was also toothless. i remember feeling my front two teeth, one was so loose, it reminded me of an apple i picked during autumn of last year at a nearby orchard. i find relief when sunlight fills my room. i know then that these vivid sensations are momentary, but there are often times, i am thankful of the vast capability of our minds to take us to these magical destinations, where logic loses all ground. it is a great place to seek inspiration for the canvases i color in when my eyes open.

(4/4/2020)