'Please don't.'
The old man laid his hand firmly on mine.
'Humanity has a strong urge to overestimate itself. Don't be a fool like all the others.'
His words puzzled me, and I put my wet paintbrush back in the water.
'It is not because we seem to be able to give meaning to our lives that life means anything at all.'
I stared into his piercing gaze.
'Does the life of a cow mean anything to other cows? Does a tree show of his hight or his leaves to neighbouring trees? Do rats envy one another? Do worms gather wealth and status at the expense of other worms?'
'I strongly doubt that.'
Although the pitch of his voice sounded low and monotonous, the words came out like razor blades cutting scars into the dense tension that started to fill my studio.
'But what am I doing wrong?...' I started to reply.
He gripped my hand with an unyielding force that started to hurt.
'You know exactly what you are doing wrong, young man. And if you don't stop it immediately, we will never get out of this mess.'
I looked at the painting I had started this morning. Nothing special. I had made tons of those before. They catered to my fanbases desires and paid the bills just fine. Colourful and melancholic, just like the critics liked it.
'Art is not for cowards.' He yelled.
'You will never please anyone by pleasing others.' 'You are an artist, not a brand. You make art, not products.'
'Art is made to heal and to question.' 'What you are providing should not be simple entertainment.'
'Art is not made to consume carelessly. Real art is not for the lazy.'
'Art is for those that feel the need to understand.'
'The only way you can help us all is by taking a stand and tell what is needed to be told, not what is wanted to be heard.'
'Art is made by translating the mysteries of the soul, not by conceptualising the mechanics of the mind.'
He stood up and walked away.
'So, please...'
'Just don't.'
The old man laid his hand firmly on mine.
'Humanity has a strong urge to overestimate itself. Don't be a fool like all the others.'
His words puzzled me, and I put my wet paintbrush back in the water.
'It is not because we seem to be able to give meaning to our lives that life means anything at all.'
I stared into his piercing gaze.
'Does the life of a cow mean anything to other cows? Does a tree show of his hight or his leaves to neighbouring trees? Do rats envy one another? Do worms gather wealth and status at the expense of other worms?'
'I strongly doubt that.'
Although the pitch of his voice sounded low and monotonous, the words came out like razor blades cutting scars into the dense tension that started to fill my studio.
'But what am I doing wrong?...' I started to reply.
He gripped my hand with an unyielding force that started to hurt.
'You know exactly what you are doing wrong, young man. And if you don't stop it immediately, we will never get out of this mess.'
I looked at the painting I had started this morning. Nothing special. I had made tons of those before. They catered to my fanbases desires and paid the bills just fine. Colourful and melancholic, just like the critics liked it.
'Art is not for cowards.' He yelled.
'You will never please anyone by pleasing others.' 'You are an artist, not a brand. You make art, not products.'
'Art is made to heal and to question.' 'What you are providing should not be simple entertainment.'
'Art is not made to consume carelessly. Real art is not for the lazy.'
'Art is for those that feel the need to understand.'
'The only way you can help us all is by taking a stand and tell what is needed to be told, not what is wanted to be heard.'
'Art is made by translating the mysteries of the soul, not by conceptualising the mechanics of the mind.'
He stood up and walked away.
'So, please...'
'Just don't.'
Signed,
Available original Artwork & Soon available Fine Art Print
'Papillon' a.k.a. 'The Old man and the Scene' ->
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