Dear Art,
I love you.
No matter where I have been in my life, there you are. You adapt so easily to whatever this crazy life of mine throws at me; from being in silly relationships, to art school where I felt intellectually inferior. From paper, to canvas and linen. From charcoal to watercolor, ink, cheap and nasty acrylic to sexy expensive I’m-not-going-to-eat-for-a-fortnight oil paints.
From words to drawings to paintings.
I love you with all of my heart, I thank you deeply for having patience
with me; when I get caught up in culture vulture scenes, worrying about trends and fretting about if I will ‘ever make it’.
You cross all boarders and give a voice to those who are voiceless.
You are an all mighty force that will never be stopped.
You’re super fucking cool.
Forever yours,
Lily.
Gayle De Angelis on said:
Graham Greene wrote:
“Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic which is inherent in the human condition”
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