If I am truly to be who I am, I would flow across the canvas; arms waving, heart open, and mind flaming with love across it all. Splashing in yellows and golds atop a green forest of texture. My, My, what it is to be an artist. Like the ones of the olden days, where your emotions ran so hard and so deep your throat would cut itself in two and bleed artwork untill you died. Stuck inside, or left outside to freeze. Hungry, tired, manifested. The art would not stop, because it could not, Art is ME. I AM A R T.
Sometimes we all play the part. Sometimes we dont.
We are all just here, bring the love along. Find yourself
in my artwork. Find the beauty. Love the ugliness.