(no subject)
Painting is probably the most beautiful of all arts. In it, all sensations are condensed, at its aspect everyone may create romance at the will of his imagination, and at a glance have his soul invaded by the most profound memories. Like music, it acts on the soul through the intermediary of the senses but hearing can only grasp a single note at one time, whereas the sight takes in everything and at the same time simplifies at its will.
Most of the time I'm caught up in a maelstrom of emotions and I have all these thoughts bouncing around in my head, nothing to offer but my own confusion, but with a brush or oil pastel in my hand, the world just gets quiet. When I paint I feel as though I'm liberated from all the influences and pressures of the world. I don't think. I just paint under the dictate of feeling; moving the brush where my heart tells me and losing myself in the different hues and tones. It's so alluring; the mess, the smell, the feel of my brush against the textured canvas, the mixing and blending of acrylic or watercolor, watching my paintbrush surge across the surface change color and with each brushstroke allow the motif to gradually emerge from the seeming confusion of paint.