One day... My work will be worth millions!
Well, a lot anyway. Hopefully that day will come while I am still alive to appreciate it.So we paint for the expression for the adventure for the sheer enjoyment and release that it provides, right? However, at some point almost as an after thought, money comes into play. Many paint to make a living and as painful as it may be they part with their beloved gesture/memory/journey/art for some paper. Paper that can be used to buy more supplies to create more and sell more so that we can buy more to create more and sell more so that ...
Which came first the chicken or the egg?
Are we addicted to the journey, to the pain, to the suffering, to the other world experience you get when you are in the moment, "in the zone"? Why do we do what we do? Why must we create to be happy and yet long to suffer in order to create provocative works?
I think I know the answers and yet I am confused with the questions.
Why do you believe? "I don't know, I just do. I have faith." Yes, but WHY do you believe?
Why must I paint? "I'm not sure why. I just know that I need to just like I need to breath. I think that is how God made me."
Maybe one day, through my works I will figure this whole thing out. One day, I will create my masterpiece. One day, I will be someone. One day... I hope I recognize it when that day comes. That is, if it hasn't already.
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