The Pain of ART

I love creating.

I don't care what it, an artwork, a garden...hang, even a chicken coop! There is, however, an element of pain involved, as with all robust births.

It a kind of pain that can't be explained. Not a hurt, per se', but a dull and very persistent ache which closes you off...not just from other people, but also from yourself. Sometimes it precedes a rush of emotion...anger,'s like a madness, where you literally lose it.  (This is a good time to remove yourself from any proximity to innocent bystanders, such as spouses, or friends you'd like to keep).

I don't understand it, and I have noticed it seems to increase with age. It's like the more I know, the more I have to try and cram through the eye of that needle. I sometimes get the urge to rip open my skin to let out whatever-the-hell wants to come out.

Sometimes it gets too hard, and I just want to run and hide, so I try to bury it down deep. Creative people can only do this for so long before they burst.

This is all counterbalanced by the euphoria that goes with creating...this I can’t explain. It goes beyond words. It all boils down to the intense experiences that only the artist can know, and that most people who admire the art no virtually nothing of.

Are we all crazy? Possibly. It could be that being a creative is actually a symptom of some brain defect they will identify in the future. The fact is that many artists suffer from depression at the very least, so does this go to make them better artists? maybe. Maybe we're all wired for self-destruction on the inside whilst we reconstruct on the outside.

I love creating...


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