Art is useless
Art. A three letter word that pretentious fools like to cling on to with a desperate hope for validation. What is up with these people who stand before mish-mashed paintings that look like a collage of vomit shrapnel and then go on to talk about how it represents man’s yearning for life or death or some other random shit that pops into their heads? And don’t even get me started about the writers. Sitting with pen and pad, staring at a sunset and scribbling away at the poetic beauty it inspired within their soul. Bull. Put that damn pencil away and look at the bloody sun and enjoy the moment will you! Your attempt to capture this loveliness will never come true to the actual experience. Art. Just an excuse for those seeking to run away from reality, drown themselves in pointillism, expressionism, cubism, poetry. The truth is, what doesn’t make you smart, is useless. These decorative smudges of color on your wall, do not define you. It’s what you know that counts. Everything else is useless. So don’t delude yourself into believing this world is a better place because of ‘art’. No one cares. Reality is everything.
Art is love.
Art. A three letter synonym for freedom. What a world be where we were limited to lines and numbers and facts and figures. A world where imaginations stay frozen in our minds, with no escape route through colors, dance and words? Sure we walk past that man , with graying hair and a frail form, standing beside an easel that holds months of his efforts, waiting for someone to stop by and ask. It hurts your heart to see that hopeful face that chose to set aside practicality and live a dream where bread and butter came from paint and charcoal. Art doesn’t pay well, art is risk you may say. Yes that is true. There was Van Gogh who brushed away for years, drowning in beautiful madness without earning a dime. And then one day after he died somebody deemed his work extraordinary and boom! Starry nights swirl in all our heads. And which woman, after reading Virginia Woolf, can resist feeling a rattling kinship with the feminine spirit?That is the wonder of art, naked love smeared on canvases of paint and words. Art sets both free, the creator and the witness. It is a shared consciousness of a world beyond continents and oceans.