A tool, an instrument
My dear readers,
There are days when envy and motivation are extinguished. I sometimes find myself so overwhelmed by my emotions that I no longer find the strength to work or leave my home.
And like any pain to a remedy, I could find mine starting very young to write and draw. Because the pen exhumes our bitterness, it is the instrument that allows us to exteriorize our sorrows, to immortalize our thoughts and to reflect the light and the calm when we walk in the mist.
The paintbrush is the tool of the beautiful and the dream, which through the mastery and visions of the person who uses it retraces, invents and reinvents the beauty of the real or imaginary world.
Force and light
Thus life goes on, made of high and low and it is these two states which urge artists to take their pens and brushes.
We never find inspiration when we seek it, it sails in our souls as it wishes, according to our experiences of life and our humours. Like the moon that follows the sun, we simply wait for the eclipse.
And it comes at the moment when one closes one’s eyes before putting a paintbrush on a canvas or a pen on a notebook, and the provoked sensation overwhelms us to let our soul dance and express itself, as if the child who is sleeping in woke up, adorned with his happiest smile, recounting those rare moments when dream and reality meet.
The healthiest of remedies, the sweetest of cures, is thus effected to bring forth joy and pure happiness in us. With time.
My dear readers, the painter and the poet have much in common, they observe the nature of their mind to transcribe it. Their great works can be interpreted a thousand ways and all will be true. All the subtlety of the artist...
See you soon!
