i don't think i would be alive right now if it wasn't for art. art has kept me sane as not just a thing we create, but as a person. because in reality, art is a person, right? i mean, its you and me and the things we like and dislike. the art of poetry and words. the art of painting, drawing. the art of moving on; of falling in love. the art of a chord on a piano and the found of an f sharp on the violin. the art of patience, dignity. sadness, love, hike, realism- its all art. the world in my eyes is a canvas slowly being made into a new form of art.
today, i was in downtown toronto on a school trip with a couple of friends. we were surrounded by vast and tall, tall buildings, and it made me wonder that anything and everything is art. a hand to hold at 4pm. the way skin glides and rubs against skin is deep and intimate art. ugliness is art, for ugly souls have one hell of a harsh character. the rain is art, and so are the tress and churches and its values, our bodies and souls, a piano and sakura trees and essentially all their is - art.
beauty, hope, sadness, love - in the best and worst of people. how extraordinary.
-art.
conceptcollection
I wrote this on April 9th, 2014 as a more of a journal entry than a poem in my book. It is basically what I think about "art", and what the true meaning is. Please comment/favourite if you enjoy it. Thank you.