virtualDavis

You Are an Artist: digital collage

Inside you there’s an artist you don’t know about. ~ Rumi

Some days, like today days, it’s easy to forget, easy to slump downward, shoulders and spirit drifting grave-ward. The artist within cowers behind to-do lists and do too lists, hides his eyes beneath furrowed brows, and rolls his toes under in apology for being at all.

But it’s especially these days, these gloomy, confidence wilting lump in your throat days that you need to remember, need to affirm in guttural grunts or soaring anthem – shoulders back, chest extended, forehead stretched upward – that you are an artist. From that first wailing, ass smacking moment until your last triumphant gasp you are an artist. Always. Until you’re not. At all.

You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there. ~ Maria Callas

Let there be fireworks. Or drifting smoke, fading booms and gunpowder perfume. Let there but art in your flash and in your fizzle. Let there be art.

Everything you do is art.

From the moment you wake up until the moment you sleep, you’re creating art…

Every single thing you do is art.

You cannot escape it…

You’re an artist. Life is your canvas…

What are you doing with your canvas? ~ Raam Dev

You are an artist. Always.

Related articles

• What’s Art For? (moabsophy.com)
• Mary Wade’s Essex Folk Art (essexonlakechamplain.com)

Washington Square by Andre Kertesz

André Kertész

Washington Square
New York, January 9, 1954
Gelatin-silver print
vintage print
12.7 x 9.2 cm
via Fotomuseum Winterthur

There are days for thoughtful ruminations and days for doodles, days for vignettes and verses, but today is a day for inspiration. And few words. This enrapturing black and white photograph of a few walkers in a snowy Washington Square park by André Kertész (Andre Kertesz)
 speaks volumes. Quietly. About meandering. Flaneurs. Winter. Voyeurism. Crisp, clean, contrast. And yearning. Wondering. Deep observation. Possibly even deep listening… Do you hear the singing underneath?

I’ll leave you with an observation borrowed from John Bailey’s February 22, 2010 post, “From My Window”: The Late Work of André Kertész and Josef Sudek.

Kertész, in Paris and New York City, and [Josef] Sudek in Prague, spent many of their most productive years in the best tradition of the street photographer cum flaneur. Yet in substantive ways both remained loners. (The ASC)