this pencil cost me 75 cents at an art museum in austin. i've been thinking about it quite a bit. i liked the message immediately (there were lots of different "art is" pencils), but the more i stare at it the more profound it seems.as i was scribbling in my journal on the plane, the pencil flipped out of my hand and into a very awkward place between the seat and the wall of the cabin. after a couple of unsuccessful lunges, i realized i would probably not get it back without getting down on my hands and knees, preferably after the people beside me left their seats. eventually i wrangled it back.
so--what is my art, what is my struggle?
life is my medium. life is difficult. living well requires focus, mindfulness, and a vision of what i want to create. no wasted brushstrokes. simplicity, passion, vivid colors. inspired, free, but with care underlying each choice. love in every act.
the consciousness, focus, living-each-moment is my struggle. tiny brushstrokes--no sweeping acts or proclamations. just painting a little more beauty every day.
1 comment:
My view is that art is the finesse, the panache with which we take inside stuff and put it out where it affects people. If our insides are devoid of struggle, there is really nothing that comes out that is interesting to anyone.
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