An Artist's Soul
The artist’s soul is deep solitude. From a well that runs not into the Earth, but into the consciousness of not just this time, but every time we have ever been and ever will be.
This is why the artist’s soul is endless and utterly enchanting. It doesn’t just exist for itself, but for the message, the meaning, the color, the story, the community, the work…the work…the work.
I have never met an artist, a true artist, who doesn’t work into the wee hours of the night to get the slightest deviation in that color so that it hits just right. Only the artist knows why it echoes in the audience’s eyes in the exact way that it does. It is the artist’s secret and will remain that way forever. Even if you tell your secrets…it is still yours. That is the magic of the artist.
For the only honest answer there is, is the artist’s truth. The only way to find that is to work. Those who claim to be artist’s MUST WORK. They work with themselves first and then with the work in front of them and then with the community that observes them. Anything else is hollow. Anything else is a deviation from truth. An artist…must WORK.
And the nature of the artist is that the work changes. If artist’s work with themselves, they also change over time. They need different things and suffer much. The self shifts and the work reveals itself to be much different as the heart moves into new spaces…and beats a different truth. And when dreams die…so too does the artist.
Here we find rebirth. In that space between where the artist’s heart has broken and the dream has shattered again, for an uncountable time. Here we find the ultimate fascination with our artists, the ability to rise and renew themselves as phoenix, as creatrix, as artist, to reincarnate while still breathing. Still and always…an artist. For once an artist, always an artist. The soul knows this.
So then, how do we become again.
The only truth…