Art.deep
If great art comes from the deepest of our wounds then where is the statue of me on my knees begging for it all to end?
Where is the drawing of me looking out the window into the light, trying my best not to think about the past again and again?
Where is the handcrafted paper chains representing each one of my tears as they rolled down my cheek one after the other?
“Sadness equals art”? The windows of my soul see it all gray.
“Sorrow brings about creation”? How many times must I break down and break apart in order for my magnum opus to come into creation?
“Tears are creative juices flowing”? When was the last time you cried just to make art? Tell me, I’d love to know why you’d sacrifice your happiness and health for the off chance others could see into your soul.
Tell me, I’d love to know you.
