A true artist - Ferryhalim.com
There are a lot of different events that can throw me down an emotional staircase and leave me bleeding and crying.
Hm, icky imagery. I should rewrite that later...
Music and Art (I am talking about paintings, drawings and the like) are two of the most powerful events that can turn my world upside down. Music sends me into my imagination and provides for me a bit of extra ambition in creating a piece of reality.
Art, on the other hand, turns my emotions on themselves and humbles me. I have gotten into discussions with artists, amazed by their talent and seeming ease at creating something that blows my imagination away, and those conversations always boil down to the same truth: I envy artists.
There was an episode of Touched By an Angel when the lead character broke down into tears because she couldn't sing. Unlike other angels she didn't have a beautiful singing voice and it hurt her to help a woman who was a singer. She wanted to do what they did.
Watching the show you took the side of those friends around her:
"You have many strengths, don't ignore them because they are your own. It is easy to see the strengths of others and overlook yourself."
Then the necessary:
"Your voice may not be perfect but it is beautiful to the ears of God."
Well, I am not surrounded by angels and I can't draw.
I am not a horrible writer and I am able to express myself through storytelling. I am a friend to those around me, a good listener and speaker, I don't cheat or steal and have a good moral system...but I still can't fucking draw.
I hate it. I absolutely hate it.
I remember sitting with a friend of mine who was giving up on drawing. He told me that he was going to stop because he 'couldn't do it well enough'. The small imperfections drove him crazy and though he was good he could never be good enough. Everything he drew was in a classroom or displayed in front of peers. No matter how good it was, someone always had a comment about how it could be better.
You can not ever draw good enough.
I was so angry listening to him whine about stupid people with too many opinions. Who cares what other people think? You are a good artist and don't stop drawing just because of a few comments that you can disregard.
Despite my urging, he eventually stopped drawing.
Now looking at what I was saying, I realize I do it too. I am a good writer. I can put together words and express a point. I can imagine a scene and give each character a personality and allow them to develop. I like to put those characters in situations I don't see a solution for and then see how they get out. For days I just ponder the options from different perspectives taking away little truths and disgarding the rest of it.
What is the result of all that?
Nothing, I don't write a thing down.
No matter what I write it will never be good enough. Some little shit will add a bunch of fucking comma's and tell me that my sentences are fragmented. I want to punch him in the face. "Of course they are fragmented, you little shit." I scream, "did you even read the story?"
Did you even read the story.
I don't mean read. I use the word, but instead I mean something different. I mean the same thing an artist means when I look at the painting and say; "it's nice but I like blue, and her dress is an icky yellow." 'Did he even bother to see my painting?', he wonders.
Yes I saw it, and that fucker from my previous paragraph read my story.
I think both queries to the viewer could be rephrased to ask: "Did you even let yourself feel what I put into this for you to feel? Did you drop your guard for the few minuets it would take for you to realize how much love, hate, angst, tears and soul I put into this? Did you even want to feel something? If you didn't, stop looking! Stop reading! This is mine to share with the worthy, those who want to peel back their defenses and let the softer and more fragile selves experience something that will sting but slowly change to a feeling a pleasure. And it only stings because you don't pull back and let yourself feel often enough."
However, all I manage to say is; "Did you even read it?"
Hm, for proclaiming myself a 'good' writer I certainly don't express myself very clearly nor do I seem to come to any sort of point.
Huh.
Hm, icky imagery. I should rewrite that later...
Music and Art (I am talking about paintings, drawings and the like) are two of the most powerful events that can turn my world upside down. Music sends me into my imagination and provides for me a bit of extra ambition in creating a piece of reality.
Art, on the other hand, turns my emotions on themselves and humbles me. I have gotten into discussions with artists, amazed by their talent and seeming ease at creating something that blows my imagination away, and those conversations always boil down to the same truth: I envy artists.
There was an episode of Touched By an Angel when the lead character broke down into tears because she couldn't sing. Unlike other angels she didn't have a beautiful singing voice and it hurt her to help a woman who was a singer. She wanted to do what they did.
Watching the show you took the side of those friends around her:
"You have many strengths, don't ignore them because they are your own. It is easy to see the strengths of others and overlook yourself."
Then the necessary:
"Your voice may not be perfect but it is beautiful to the ears of God."
Well, I am not surrounded by angels and I can't draw.
I am not a horrible writer and I am able to express myself through storytelling. I am a friend to those around me, a good listener and speaker, I don't cheat or steal and have a good moral system...but I still can't fucking draw.
I hate it. I absolutely hate it.
I remember sitting with a friend of mine who was giving up on drawing. He told me that he was going to stop because he 'couldn't do it well enough'. The small imperfections drove him crazy and though he was good he could never be good enough. Everything he drew was in a classroom or displayed in front of peers. No matter how good it was, someone always had a comment about how it could be better.
You can not ever draw good enough.
I was so angry listening to him whine about stupid people with too many opinions. Who cares what other people think? You are a good artist and don't stop drawing just because of a few comments that you can disregard.
Despite my urging, he eventually stopped drawing.
Now looking at what I was saying, I realize I do it too. I am a good writer. I can put together words and express a point. I can imagine a scene and give each character a personality and allow them to develop. I like to put those characters in situations I don't see a solution for and then see how they get out. For days I just ponder the options from different perspectives taking away little truths and disgarding the rest of it.
What is the result of all that?
Nothing, I don't write a thing down.
No matter what I write it will never be good enough. Some little shit will add a bunch of fucking comma's and tell me that my sentences are fragmented. I want to punch him in the face. "Of course they are fragmented, you little shit." I scream, "did you even read the story?"
Did you even read the story.
I don't mean read. I use the word, but instead I mean something different. I mean the same thing an artist means when I look at the painting and say; "it's nice but I like blue, and her dress is an icky yellow." 'Did he even bother to see my painting?', he wonders.
Yes I saw it, and that fucker from my previous paragraph read my story.
I think both queries to the viewer could be rephrased to ask: "Did you even let yourself feel what I put into this for you to feel? Did you drop your guard for the few minuets it would take for you to realize how much love, hate, angst, tears and soul I put into this? Did you even want to feel something? If you didn't, stop looking! Stop reading! This is mine to share with the worthy, those who want to peel back their defenses and let the softer and more fragile selves experience something that will sting but slowly change to a feeling a pleasure. And it only stings because you don't pull back and let yourself feel often enough."
However, all I manage to say is; "Did you even read it?"
Hm, for proclaiming myself a 'good' writer I certainly don't express myself very clearly nor do I seem to come to any sort of point.
Huh.