I know that most people see life through normal eyes, through normal perception. But sometimes the world and the experiences it brings, forces us to think differently, to see differently. This applies to less people than you might think. In the thirteen years I’ve been alive, I have only ever known one person who sees the world like I do. Through the eyes of a writer.
Most people may look at a leaf and see only a leaf. Others may see a complex connection of molecules and microorganisms. And some may just see a product of nature. But through the eyes of an artist, you may see a possible cloth piece for a fairy, or a piece of song lyrics floating through the air, or even a setting where a girl admires a leaf and it’s wonderful complexion of colors; admiring the gracefulness it has when the wind flies it into a different direction.
A normal person may look at a broken house and say a sarcastic comment about it. An artist would immediately have a story about how it turned out to be how it was in that moment. An artist would think outside the box, and explore the possibilities the world brings.
I consider myself an artist., a person in the middle of millions who thinks there’s always more to something than it meets the eye. Some may look at a pebble and say that it is just a worthless pebble, while I would say it is a magical jewel, from the eras or kings and queens, that cursed anyone who touched it.
The eyes of an artist never let go of anything in their sight. They make everything interesting. They make and insignificant little butterfly like the most interesting thing in the world.
The eyes of an artist are special, a gift, and something a little too rare to be given away or let it be wasted. I think that maybe this vision should be encourages, practiced and not shot down, like it is done on most situations. It should be valued, respected and treasured. Because this sight isn’t given, it is earned. It is not a gift, it is a privilege.
