Sari Fishman’s new book, Inner Self Portrait, feels like it wrote itself, like the poems emerged unbidden from deep within, raw, uncensored, and unapologetically honest. What sparked it all? Love, or more accurately, the intoxicating, overwhelming kind of infatuation that keeps her heart racing and mind spinning, no matter whether anyone else knows about it
Fishman has been in love as long as she can remember. The object of her desire doesn’t need to be aware—just the act of loving makes her feel alive. It’s an exhilarating rush, a high that keeps her going. But Fishman draws a clear distinction between love and infatuation. To love someone, she must know them. But infatuation, that’s different. It can exist from afar, driven by nothing more than longing, thought, and desire. She doesn’t need anything back for it to exist. But when infatuation turns into reality, when the object of her desire reciprocates, it becomes a thrilling ride, full of highs and lows—emotional chaos that often ends in disappointment. Yet, she finds herself falling in love again, as if untouched by past pain, because love, for her, is a cycle. It feeds her, propelling her forward again and again.
The art in Inner Self Portrait mirrors this emotional complexity. Fishman works with only two materials: tar and nail polish. Both materials are heavy with meaning. Tar, a substance she has used in past series, represents the darker, messier side of passion. It’s raw, uncontrollable, a glossy black that no other paint can mimic. For Fishman, it’s the embodiment of the forbidden—love that burns hot and can’t be tamed. The second material, nail polish, symbolizes the feminine side, delicate and refined. Each painting features a different color, much like a new dress. The glossy polish contrasts with the sharpness of the tar, offering a softer, more nuanced texture.
Fishman’s choice of materials speaks volumes. She doesn’t adhere to conventional methods. Rather than using brushes or traditional paints, she pours her colors onto the canvas, letting the raw emotion take over. It’s abstract, personal, and, most importantly, it comes from the heart. Her approach is messy, unpolished, just like her poetry.
The two materials—tar and nail polish—are more than just tools. They represent a duality that runs through both her art and her poetry. The tar reflects the masculine side within her (Animus), while the nail polish symbolizes the feminine side of the man she desires (Anima). Their interaction is intimate, almost erotic—opposites that come together, yet retain their individuality. The colors may mix, but they do not lose their essence. No matter what happens in their union, the identity of each remains intact. It’s a representation of the complex dynamic between two people, each maintaining their autonomy while sharing an intense connection.
This duality extends into the language of Fishman’s poems, where she freely switches between street slang, passion, and lofty references to great thinkers. It’s a fluid, ever-shifting back and forth—one that Fishman embraces fully. For her, this duality is not something to fight against but to celebrate. It’s who she is, and it’s a part of everything she creates.
Fishman rejects labels, definitions, and expectations. She loathes the idea of being confined to a category, whether by her career, accomplishments, or anything else. Social media, she says, is her playground, a space where she can rise and fall at will, shedding old skins and redefining herself, even if others are left confused. The labels others try to assign her don’t mean anything to her—not in a serious way. She is more than what can be captured on a business card.
Fishman is everything, and yet nothing at all. She’s complex, yet simple in her own way. In a sense, she’s like a female version of Holden Caulfield, navigating the world with a sharp, self-aware eye. Inner Self Portrait is a reflection of this life—a life that defies easy categorization, just as the book itself does.
Through the rawness of her poetry and art, Fishman expresses her contradictions. She isn’t interested in being understood by everyone. What matters is that she’s telling her truth, and that’s enough. Inner Self Portrait isn’t just a book; it’s an invitation to dive into the complexities of love, desire, and self-expression—an emotional landscape that defies labels and embraces the beautiful messiness of life.
