Sunday, November 15, 2009
Our lives are works of art and should be appreciated as such.
There are colors, shapes, and themes. People, events, and feelings.
Positive and negative space. Things that happened and things that didn't.
We live our lives and fill our individual canvases.
There is a red and black slash of rage and hurt, a tranquil face, a splat of joyful yellow and blue, a tree, a house, a hand, someone fading into the distance, smudges, and corrections.
Periods of a life take up separate portions of the canvass. Feelers of paint, and pencil spreading out and intertwining in all directions beginning to sketch out what is to come.
Our paintings can be appreciated in stages. We can stop. We can take a step back, and take in who we are; what our life has been; who we can become; and what our life can be.
And at the end we each have a masterpiece.
They are what they are, and exactly what their creators made them to be.
Joyful, tragic, content, ironic, sad, heroic, ugly, and beautiful.