The struggles of a wandering mind, a curious heart. Endlessly fascinated by new things. Picking up things, getting sidetracked by a million others. The one who wants to experiment, play, explore.
Of course I want something solid, something, a manifestation of all these thoughts and explorations. It's why I follow art with so much passion and an undying love. It is the language of my heart. I want to say something. Art is the means with which I try, I try, to maneuver through the labyrinths of my mind.
All this abstract stuff. Ideas.
It gets lonely up in here.
I want to create, I want it to be real.
I want to communicate.
I make stuff, I have something to say. It doesn't communicate everything in my head. There is just a lot up in there.
So after I struggle with the material. I play some more.
It is when all the good stuff happens.
My soul is speaking again.
I am not trying to create for you anymore. I am just trying to speak. I am trying to speak. My soul is seeking expression.
I know, if I want my art to matter it can't just remain that way, I need to think about you too.
But is it wrong to make a practice out of a journey of exploration? Does art need to be solid and strong and perfect and sit in a clean white space to matter? Does it speak louder than the student struggling with matter and mind, and stuff, and trying to externalize a mind that is searching. still searching.
If art can be a language, it needs to be spoken. That's all we can do, talk, and hope that it is maybe by some - understood. Because language is ambiguous, is it not?
I can speak, you can understand. But you will never know if we are really talking about the same thing. It is my internal experience, you will never live here, you will never live within my perception, I could never live within yours.
So until then we will just keep talking.
It is all we can do.
I want to keep talking.
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