love the art not the artist

Glancing at the creation of man,one of Michelangelo’s famed masterpieces.The picture extends its story to me,that of its past present and future.Its meaning and all it entails.
Surely this must just be my subconscious or some now awakened part of my psyche narrating a tale ,possibly of a past life of mine masquerading as a fantasy or a dream.The art in its own capacity,outside of the realm of its creator is able to resuscitate a dead part of myself and return it back to me.And the feelings are just as intense and surreal as though the story was snot my own and the voice was not a reverberation of my own sound.
I am sure most if not all artists must feel through the release of craft that their creations possess a life of their own,surpassing their own and sometimes even trouncing their lives.
Monalisa’s smile has warmed and invigorated more faces than Leornado ever even dreamed of meeting.On a very fundamental level the artist knows he is just a piece of the juggernaut puzzle that he has created and at times may not even understand it fully himself.
Now when i look at art i look at it as a mirror and try to fit my portrait into its own because true art holds a little piece of everyone inside it waiting to be returned to the owners when the inevitable connections are made.
“art cannot be owned solely without its audience because its not at all personal real estate but just public beautiful adorned bridges connecting the different islands of man scattered all around”


be sure to purge (thoughts,ideas,complaints) if at all you feel the nudge

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