Thoughts on art

... a slow metamorphosis... ever evolving, waxing...waning at times... ever changing in some sort... from the medium to the execution...

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I am the art that is the fundamental element of my being, entwined into the fibers of my soul. It is not negotiable. From a young age it captivated me and found me a willing victim to its enchantments. As we grew together it branched off into tangled vines of poetry, painting, drawing, photography, musings, and thought,... all the while curling and twisting back on itself... myself...leaving indelible grooves and marks on my soul,...an unseen rewriting of my existence.

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This is what I know to be true...

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Art is a series of intuitive perceptions...the stitching together of emotion, experience, time, and sense memories in the physical,...and with pigments hewn from the earth, in some form of primal, innate alchemy, is conjured into existence.

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Art is always a self portrait. A journey into an inner shadow world. Once a deep breath is drawn and a step back taken...it reveals itself as an intimate mirror of its creator, an uncomfortable duel between intention and outcome, waiting patiently for a reaction.

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Art is ever encompassing the lives of its creator. It is not a decision to be made. It is an undulating necessity for those justly chosen to be the speakers of the unseen, the tale weavers of the mystic, and the dreamers of that yet to become manifest.

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