Art's Loving Process

As an artist, the essence of the title eludes simple definition. In my youth, the early hours resonated with a creative calling, an invitation to joy and rejuvenation. Drawing at 5 am became a ritual—a communion with the morning, a prelude to the demands of the day.

Over three decades later, I find myself on the same path. Life's obligations have led me astray, distancing me from my true vocation and passion. The exploration of colors, textures, forms, light, and spatial arrangement can be an arduous journey. Even securing a space within my home for artistic endeavors poses its challenges.

I've engaged in prolonged dialogues and debates about art, only to abruptly shut down my creative pursuits for months. Love and hatred intertwine in this relationship. Society often views art as a mere hobby, but for me, it's a visceral force, a compulsion akin to a drug. I persist until satisfaction washes over me. Countless nights are spent scrutinizing works in progress or envisioning the next move with closed eyes.

Navigating the art world in the age of social media may seem straightforward, but it's a deceptive facade, an algorithmic dance dictated by external expectations. The constant cycle of posting, reposting, and creating videos for the sake of visibility feels like performing as the expected monkey.

Yet, amidst these challenges, my focus remains on the process itself—savoring every step until the final effort and anticipating what comes next. It's an ongoing journey of discovery. I gaze at my extensive body of work, yearning for consistency in style, genre, or palette. Instead, it resembles a seismic shift in my artistic bones—an irresistible call, akin to a captivating woman or a delightful wine.

The soul endures a tumultuous dance—between suffering and breathing, stopping and reopening the senses, oscillating between enjoyment and agony. Fatigue sets into the body, and the eyes protest, yet I persist because contentment remains elusive. Another stroke, another color mix, a pause to clean the brush—each decision is a meticulous dance between desire and execution.