THE ROSES IN AUGUST

nessart16
Aug 18
4 min read

Welcome to The Roses in August, the eighth blog post in my 2025 Calendar Blog Series. Over the remaining months of this year, I’ll be taking you behind the scenes of each month’s illustration, sharing stories, memories, and reflections that continue to shape my creative journey.

For 2025, I created a collection that bridges my childhood art with my current skill level - I’ve revisited some of my old oil pastel drawings and watercolour paintings, recreated them digitally, and added reflective thoughts, messages, and affirmations that connect what they meant to me then with what they mean to me now. Each month is crafted with care, representing both the season and a personal story.

this month, i thought i’d switch things up and begin with the artwork itself. this is an oil pastel drawing i made back in one of my art classes, a simple study in learning to draw from real life. our teacher had placed some roses in front of us. no vase, no fancy setup, just roses as they were. the task was to really look, really observe, and then draw. and so i did.

what’s funny is, i don’t think the roses in front of me had thorns. but in my head, roses always have thorns. that’s what i’d learnt in school. so i drew them that way. i remember feeling a little self-conscious when i noticed the other kids hadn’t done that. maybe some did, i don’t remember.

technically, i guess i “failed” the assignment because i didn’t capture what was actually in front of me. but what i did capture gave me something else to take home. in terms of the actual art though, little ness went all out. I left the background hazy and unfinished (so artsy, right?), pushed the shading, and created what i thought was a very professional composition. whether it was “right” or not, i felt good making it.

this month’s theme is, at its heart, a letter to my younger self. a reflection on something i still struggle with today... accepting every part of who i am.

we all have pieces of ourselves we struggle to love. the quirks, the habits, the features we try to hide or paint in a kinder light. but i believe the real work of life is not just to tolerate these parts, but to fall in love with them. truly.

it’s easy to admire a rose when the thorns have been stripped away. “oh, such a smooth stem!” but rarely do we stop to wonder, what are we removing when we cut them off?

the truth is, thorns, or, more accurately, prickles, are not really flaws. they’re vital. they keep the rose safe from being eaten. they help it climb and reach for sunlight. they’re a part of its survival. and yet, when roses are harvested or gifted, the first thing we do is strip them away, as though they don’t belong.

isn’t that something we often do to ourselves? we hide the parts that feel “too much” or “too sharp” because we worry they’ll hurt someone else. but those very parts are what make us whole.

as a child, with my habit of naming everything around me and looking at inanimate objects as “people”, i would often wonder what the rose thought of its own body. did the petals say, “i make you beautiful”? did the stem say, “i hold you up”? did the thorns say, “i keep you safe”?

not every part is equally admired, but every part plays a role in making the rose a rose. and when i think of myself, i realise it’s the same.

i used to feel so self-conscious about my broad shoulders, my height, my long fingers, my slanted teeth. i felt frustrated at the little twirl my hands do when i get nervous, or the way i feel discomfort so deeply in a room that i couldn’t rest until everyone else felt at ease.

but with time, i’ve started to see those very things differently. i love that i care so deeply. i love that i feel deeply. my anxiety is my body trying to protect me. my height and shoulders make me feel powerful and strong, and, honestly, i look pretty great in a blazer. my long fingers and big hands have allowed me to create every single thing i’ve ever dreamt of making.

these quirks, these “thorns,” are not faults. they’re part of my design.

we are all roses in this vast, tangled garden. or maybe you’re not a rose at all.. maybe you’re a sunflower, a lily, a cactus, a lemon tree, even a rafflesia. whatever you are, you are you because of every part of you. the celebrated petals, yes. but also the hidden thorns. the pieces you love, and the ones you’re still learning to accept.