Last night I viewed lots of different Art, and it seemed each Artist had a message or feeling of energy that came through the piece.
The art piece said more about the artist than the art.
It is like the art is an inner imprint of how the artist feels; a coded message from within.
Some artists are so exact in realistic portrayals; their perfection is displayed as judgment or even a God like imitation, their gift is replicating, being able to mirror the landscapes.
There was Art that made you stop and think, wondering about the message or dichotomy it presented…a confused thinker sorting out his thoughts, making you pause and wonder.
Perhaps our attraction to Art equals the way we are attracted to certain people, and repelled away from others.
Somehow I separated the Artist from the Art not really believing that the Art told the truth about the Artist’s life. I believed you could paint a pretty picture while having a tortured soul.
Yet you can tell a lot about a person in their Art, which is why I feel many are unable to do art, for they fear displaying their self.
The same goes for writing 3 pages a day, the deeper unconscious fear keeps them safe behind the excuses of no time, nothing to write, I know me, done the work, am okay with who I am.
It’s the voices of fear to be seen in public without the layers and layers of coverings… like a painting draped with cloth so the picture lies hidden underneath.
To drop the cloth and stand exposed seems it would be fearful and it is actually the opposite, with nothing to hide, you have nothing to hide, and you are free to be.
Perhaps the fear lies in not matching another painting nearby or being as colorful or as dramatic or as calm and serene.
Yet imagine a gallery with walls and walls all displaying the exact same piece.
I M Perfect lady 