Work of art ? Not really

  It’s all in your head,darling. Everything is there,yet nothing exists. Chaotic harmony,isn’t it?




She asked me what my art analysis was about and I told her nature and the human being all in one. Silence...

Nature is art. The way birds sing their song peacefully and the way the wind blows the leaves is art. Why is it art? Because it makes you feel something. And that is what art does.

It was created millions of years ago and it is still unfinished. We paint it a different color,we leave a new musical note with every step we take. It is made of stars and clouds and love.

Let me start with the sky. The warm blue gives you a sense of heaven. Clouds go through the sky like thoughts on your head. It is in constant change, taking new forms every second and making you feel part of it. A painting by the author unknown, admired by everyone…

And suddenly the movie becomes alive. It is full of birds’ song and their energetic game. Let us be free and enjoy the world. They look happy playing their game of tears and joy. New dreams, new hopes…

Even hurricanes are art. They make you forget the pain and they take your worries away as they go. Blowing away your negative thoughts and making a rainbow full of shiny colors come.

Oh, the trees and the flowers. They can teach you how things become better as time passes; you just have to let yourself bloom. And forget the competition, you are beautiful just the way you are.
                                             

Animals are art too. The warmth of a puppy or the eyes of a cat are art.

Here and there you find humans too. You can see the chaos they make every day. But art needs all kinds of emotions, right?

And endless sounds go on and on all over again. And all these are put together in a chaotic harmony. And for me this is art. My favorite kind of art…The art of loving yourself in the process of loving nature…The art of loving  the galaxies inside your head even when they collapse…And flowers, nature, birds are all inside of us. Flowing through our veins, hoping to be felt…



     That is my work of art analysis Madame, and if this isn’t art, then I don’t know what is.
                                                              
                                                         
                                                                                                                                  Ana.

0 comments:

Post a Comment