Artists And Art

Art is the expression of the human experience

It tells what stories need to be told from a deeply personal prospective

Any outlet grants freedom

It grants you ability above what weaknesses we all have

Always allow your creativity to show through

In whatever fashion possible

Perfection is nonexistent and a subjective thing anyway

Take joy in expression and beauty

Nothing is as wonderful as bringing ones inner experience out into the world for all to see

The landscape of the soul is always able to be explored when the artist navigates it for us

Never let self consciousness keep your exploration of yourself

And the world that you experience and translate through your senses

Locked away from the rest of your human compatriots

For we all live such brief lives and then our unique translation of experience is gone

Don't let any such thing contain you

Always remember

We never know when one thing we've done changes the world

Our actions are small

But their reverberations are larger than we could ever understand

What can change the world? What effects the motion of reality and bends us towards actions that give our lives a form of individual meaning in our day to day lives? We do, our inner experience and understanding of both ourselves and the world around us; we are the force that gives us meaning. Yes, all things are void of existential meaning or value, these things are complete wastes of time to contemplate, what we do has subjective meaning to others and to ourselves; we build, we destroy. Artistic expression is unique to the individual, it is the exclusive reflection of a finite being; to be lost in the shuffle as all things are. Yet, the expression of the individual is a unique thing, it is alone in its being, but dependent on the reflection of others upon itself. Art is meaningless without an observer, as meaning is derived only from thinking minds, thusly making the observer and the interpreter of art the true subject of the art itself; what the mind derives is the subjective value of the art itself. Yet, art is most powerful when allowed to germinate, when given opportunity to multiply and spread, given the chance to inspire, given the moment to showcase the landscape of the inmost depths that we only but glimpse in others; this is when opportunity knocks the minds of men. Art can inspire technology, it can inspire philosophy, it can inspire science, the list of potential doors art can knock upon and be invited in is endless and ever a welcome guest it is. What can change the world? What makes a difference? Make something and see, it is always the smallest things that surprise us most and always the different things that make us think. The artistic mind has ever been an enigmatic force, for it often asks nothing accept that it be allowed to be, the artist prides the art; though at times even when the work seems unimpressive. When has the master seem themselves as such? Can anyone truly know that their work will shape a generation? The greatest gift we can give the world is a window view into ourselves, this expands the world, it shows us how vast it truly is, for some lands are uncharitable; yet they still exist. The lands of music, the lands of fantasy, the lands of ideas, all amorphous and as unruly as water, yet as intangible as mist. Yet even these things effect our world, they shape and mold us and our landscape in very tangible ways; they are often architects of the future, though they know it not. Yet this is the great uniqueness of the artist, and more so of art itself, for the memes generated from art and from the artist are things of wilderness; they are wild memes, untamed and wandering free in idea space. These things are whimsical and strange, seeking to change and shape the minds of others, though with no foreseeable purpose beyond itself; event he purposes derived are strange and alien to the mind. Art is for itself, its own sake, its generation is a strange thing; for why do artists create? Yet we are trapped with it, the world is a prisoner to art, it stalks us everywhere, but the artists are but prisoners even still, for they are trapped with these beasts inside of them, and it is the conundrum of two; either release the beast unto the world, or suppress it deep within, both have consequences and both are something that the artist contends with on a daily basis.