I think we, as artists in every form of the word, take in the world on more than a black and white level as some may. In a way that we are integrated and living treacherously on a tightrope, artists feel like they need to take on the world in senses beyond their control, and their pain is exerted into their work. There is a purpose in our suffering, but our capacity to handle our lives outwardly is slim. To take the time to understand an artist would be talking to a preacher to why he loves God. There is so much backstory to take us to our points, and to know that artists cannot find closure in the things they can see with our eyes wide open, but rather, with our eyes closed and brought forth into taking the world, maybe not our own, on our shoulders, and breaking free in an exertion of prismatic findings in pain.
c.a.