The Artist

I have struggled with many things during my life.Time and time again, I conquer each end. I am an artist, but I am not. I would like to think of myself as an artist. Yes, this, at least, is true. The key to the creation of art is to never second guess the inner ability possessed. The only complete work of art is a work in which the artist has released inhibitions to create. Whenever I think too deeply on the art I am creating, the creation halts.

I have always enjoyed making, building, painting, drawing, creating. More importantly, I feel the fusion of medium and make, the arist is the most magnificent of all creatures that are human. There is nothing more completely satisfying than creation: creation is complete and triumphant. This is joy and the eart begs of me to pusue it. The artist is the creator, the maker. Artists make all change, all novelty.

I want to create things that have never yet been created in this time. I wish to take part in a great awakening; I can see that everyone around me keeps their eyes half closed and speaks with their mind only partially conscious: to watch each progressive step ahead of themselves but not to grasp and grapple with the future, the life, the true creation. So I will be the future.

I work through many mediums. My favorite, of course, are paint, music, and the written word. I have always been obsessed with the perception of art; my art must make the deepest impression on those who witness it.

What I would like my art to do is often beyond even my own comprehension. I have trouble imagining my greatest work, trouble creating it, and I have trouble moving forward with it. I lose myself in the ideas surrounding the project. I know my greatest works cause this in others.

My newest idea meets the goal of impression. I have witnessed artists creating impressions in massive proportions through the use of this new medium. Arists who work against the general pursuit of artists. I must master it.