Fragments and visions and dreams. Random memories that invade the space between your ears when you're not paying attention. A poem someone you loved once read to you. Pain. Love. Confusion. Passion. That fuzzy feeling that comes from a few too many drinks.
And in the quiet, in the pause, in the moment between events- there are sparks. There is kinetic energy. There is raw, uncontrollable power. There is the essence of the soul.
It comes out in rapid-fire brush strokes on colorful canvas. It comes out as words placed in careful sequence on blank pages. It comes out as guitar chord progressions and experimental sounds and heavenly movements of the body in the elaborate, infinite dance of life.
It is made of the intangible and visceral. The imagined and the deeply felt. The fantastical and all too painfully real. And it is the essence of the soul that creates it.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment! I will love it and hug it and pet it and call it George. Or, you know, just read and reply to it. But still- you rock!