Why I Love…

Art is eternal. It always has been and always will be. The apex of all expression, art is seen as a conduit to the soul, and therefore is looked highly upon by people from many walks of life. It is sad, however, that many people who don’t feel the pull towards art see it as a way to make a quick buck. With every stroke of a brush or with every line of graphite they lay, the artist tells a story of their life in the image they produced. Whether the picture is of a cityscape, or of a mouse hiding in a hole in a wall, the artist speaks. Every single person who has ever felt a shred of pride in their work can be considered an artist. Anyone who has put their pencil to the paper or brush to the canvas for even a fraction of a second has the potential to go farther than they know. The artist knows no bounds and will never follow the rules, simply because there aren’t any to be restricted by. From crayons to pastels, from paint to blood, the artist picks their poison. The emotions a person can feel while looking at a drawing their passed relative lefts can be overwhelming. Happiness and sadness, a blend of melancholy notes, all summed up on a piece of 8″ x 11″ legal printer paper. The colours could be intoxicating as they pour from the corners of each piece. They could be saturated enough to rival a lemon, or they could be drained, leaving a mixture of moods and brain-work in their wake. The image could be composed of nothing but graphite lines and still be brilliant. Art takes it’s place in history as drawings on cavern walls and the etchings within temple ruins. Even nature, in all it’s majestic temporary beauty is art. The way the leaves off the trees dance in the wind, or how each snowflake has an identity in their shape is all art. Art is beauty. Art is alive, and no matter what shape it takes or where it’s found, be it mountains painted on canvas or a world-swallowing black hole billions of light years away, art will always and forever be eternal.       

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