If we create our own reality then you may find mine within the words of my writing. If art reflects life then shouldn't it contain joy and grief, gain and loss, good and evil?
All those hidden depths we do not like on show, those parts of ourselves usually hidden away far from public sight.
Real art is sometimes obscene, Art is sometimes confusing, obtuse and obscure but it must also be full of light and happiness, great insight or intrguing puzzles; it must show us a way to look at ourselves more fully and understand what we see with greater clarity.
Over the years and years of my life I have put to paper what has moved me, what has opened my eyes, what has shocked me to the very core and what it is to be me.
I was a very lost soul for much of those dark days, months and years and tried to shine a light into the darkness with artifacts of oblivion; still today my consciousness drifts between the fluid and fixed, the focused and obscure.
It is open like the books I have created, Let's face it, I am no Dickens or Shakesphere,. But considering I was virtually illiterate when I left secondary education I've not done too bad.
The pen kept scribbling, not making much sense at times, and over that time (with careful editing) a line was been drawn from 15 to 59.
Give it a go, you may find the growth and progression stimulating; all it may cost is time.
Pantalla :
