They say that some
people make art, whilst other individuals are art. That "Art should
comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable." [Cesar Cruz/Banksy].
"To restrict the artist is a crime. It is to murder germinating
life." [Egon Schiele]. Someone told me the other day that its been a long
time since I had written poetry, since I created a picture with soft pastels or
paints or since I sat and wrote a piece of my own. So i thought that I might
have a try this evening, instead of aimlessly brooding over things so much that
will not matter tomorrow anyway.
My boyfriend,
categorically, is an artist. The inability to see the world just as it is,
comes alongside the passion and appreciation he has for everything art. To pick
up a pen and see the universe differently to everybody else is his gift.
Occasionally, with some help from mild narcotics, which he claims assists with
the concentration of the soul and the mind when participating in art based
activities, he creates unique and individually stunning pieces on a day to day
basis without the need of force from others. The line in which he carries
across every page makes no sense to those who can't see what he is seeing at
the given time, but is visually appealing with every aspect of the phrase. What
saddens him most is for others, who can't seem to grasp the beauty of the
topic, to shun a piece that has been delicately crafted throughout a number of
days without a second thought. Whether it's a simple cinematographic
composition, an undemanding illustration that requires minimum effort but a
great understanding or a life drawing that has been composed using every visual
shape exposed, his passion never fluctuates but stands alone with a somewhat
proud stance and screams picturesqueness without too much boastfulness to be
off putting.