The process of it can not be explained.
It’s not to be intellectualized…
Or minimalized
Because when it occurs,
It is like a birth one endures.
And pampers to insure,
A quality that is right…
Gives it life that excites
The very breath one breathes,
With such a welcoming ease.
~And no talking, coughing or sneezing
in the theater, please! This stuff is ‘live’
And for your eyes only.~
‘I’ve never had to pull a sculpture out of my behind,
So I can imagine the pain that artist suffers!
But the joy when the birthing has been completed.
A satisfaction comes and nothing else competes! ‘
A pen or paintbrush…
Camera or dancing legs!
On a canvas or bookpages,
In exhibition or on a stage.
Art is such a part of life…
The act of it does not go away with age!
Whoever accepts that is crazed!
And unfortunately today…
So many of us can say ‘that’!
‘That’ we are!
Or…
‘We are an ‘abstract’ work-in-progress! ‘
A progress that is ‘art’.