I am going to be serious, right now. None of this is meant to insult anyone, whoever ends up seeing this-but bring forth my frustrations in myself and in the "common" art of today. This subject may seem silly to some, may invigorate others, and hopefully will bring light to all the artists I know and love.
How many times a day do we commit to our work, do we truly reach into the deep depths of our very beings and dig around for the gut wrenching, emotional circumstances that make us who were are? How often is it that we can finish an piece of artwork and not feel both emotionally enlightened and suffocated all at once!? Where does the passion of being come from and go to within us- are we fully listening to ourselves as Creators, as Life-Givers, as Artists?
Or are we just skimming the surface:Are we placing false works before us and feeling accomplished because of our technical prowess? Sloshing out pieces that are copies or half interpretations of another's magic? Slapping around paints or words, or lyrics that are "catchy" or "popular". What Ever happened to the voice behind our hearts that claws at our throats and fingertips for release?
Where are our Muses? Where is our passion and dedication?
Perhaps I am hasty in including all artists in this. Mayhaps I am venting my own frustrations of self-searching onto you. But can you honestly look around you at the artwork you see commonly and be simply...okay with diving into a crowd of sameness? My friends have talent, we all have talent- and I love you all for your shining examples of unique-ness! I APPLAUD YOU FOR YOU.
But now I challenge you. I CHALLENGE YOU- right here and now, to commit yourself to your life, to your self given slavery, to yourself as your art possesses of you. Let yourself get carried away in its passions, as wretchedly blissful as they are.
Niavete or wisdom, take these words as you will. Yet I must vent this feeling building up inside me.
