Good morning world!

I’m sitting here with 4 hours of sleep, a huge cup of coffee and a beautiful sunny day, what more do I need! I’ve been thinking a lot about what art means to me. Its been a question that’s been with me ever since I was a child. I remember when I was in third grade and had this Barbie coloring book that I loved. Everything had to be colored within the lines, everything had to be perfect. I remember a little girl in my class beg me to color in it, and I was apprehensive. Could she do a good job? Would she ruin a page in my perfectly colored coloring book? After harassing me, and begging, I decided to let her with one simple condition. She could not color the faces. I hated coloring the Barbies faces, I promise I had no racial issues, it simply looked strange to me when they were colored! So I reluctantly handed over my coloring book praying she obeyed.

The little girl brought my coloring book back to me with this huge look of pride in her eyes, she had gotten the chance to color in what all the girls had been envious of me for having. Gazing down at the page, I started to cry. She had colored their faces. I was crushed. She had officially ruined the book. She looked at me and argued “but I colored it with the ‘flesh’ colored crayon!!” She had used my Crayola crayons and there was a flesh colored crayon (we won’t talk about that, it was a long time ago, Crayola has removed the ‘flesh’ word from their crayon, and they should have).

Apparently it affected me since I still remember it! I do wonder what was going through my mind back then. Was I simply that anal about art even back then? What did art mean to me even when I was in third grade? I’ve always loved art. Since I was a child, I always knew I wanted to be an artist. Of course I had a few other options, one was to be a singer (for a very short time, I had all of Little Mermaid memorized!), and a lawyer, but I watched The Client, and when the lawyer got killed, I decided it was too dangerous for my taste.

Through all that art has always been there. A passion for it like no other. There is nothing that excites me more then to look at art, whether it be ugly or beautiful. Art is everywhere. I love looking at buildings casting shadows, or a leaf floating in the sky. I love being questioned about what art is and what it means to others. I love arguing with people that just because you dont know what it is, doesnt make it not art. My love for art pumps through my veins and always will. I’ve thought about what I would do without art, and honestly, nothing. Everything comes back to it for me.

Next time you look at something, really look at it. Examine it. Think beyond what you know it is as an object. Look at the curves, the hard edges, the texture, the color. Look for the beauty in it, even if you think its ugly. For every ugly thing has a beautiful side.


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