My pen, my brush, my magic wand…

It’s nothing short of magical what writing is…
My soul exerts an addictive power when I write…
…Feelings, events, mental occasions that would otherwise be forever forgotten, vanished into the ethereal unknown from which they came from, become concrete reality, or as concrete as everything else our senses can perceive and our minds can decipher, and are given a chance at immortality… Permeated into paper or virtual scrolls, transmuted from person to person, through generations…

When penning down our thoughts, we produce a resilient offspring which can withstand the test of time and far outlive their creator…

Writing transforms the human soul from a mere passive spectator into an able dramatist with magical agency…
Pure alchemy… To transform mere mental synopses, moving energy, rapid electricity into factual phenomenons, realities only we have the power to bring about…

Through this process of creation, the human soul is redeemed.
The absurdity, the mundanity and pain of everyday life are  converted and upgraded, have new value and find yet another meaning…

Writing anything is shining a mindful spotlight into one of the many passing, fleeting yet potent moments of ordinary life which catch our attention enough to devote them mental energy to…

Writing is giving each moment a chance to explain itself, writing anything is a way to find justification of the idleness of ordinary everyday life…

Through writing you become, a magician, a sorcerer, with whole universes under our exclusive control.

There’s no right or wrong in writing, it’s whatever the soul is willing to reveal…
When I write, I let my soul purge itself…. Come clean and confess that which has been troubling it, whats bought it joy or that for which it longs….

Through writing I paint internal landscapes… The human vocabulary becomes my colourful, assorted palette…

Writing just like any art, is an attempt to transmute the virile mundanity of everyday life we’ve grown accustomed to into something other, that which our hearts can perceive but our minds can’t comprehend…

Thus, art only makes sense when expressed and received with the heart.

Art is the science of the heart. So to make art, to see art in your life, you must be willing to let yourself feel all that which maybe unconsciously we strive to anaesthetise ourselves from or become immune to maybe from constant exposure… Art calls for us to be at our most fragile, expose our dermis and embrace that vulnerability…

Art can heal, it’s the souls therapy… It’s free reign to express our deepest fears and highest ambitions… Good art, is the soul in its innate craft without inhibitions and parameters from the mind…

Good art is you impregnating, making love to your chosen medium… Not worrying about the outcome, enjoying every minute…

Good art can’t be forced… It’s a testament to the attentiveness and patience of the maker, for the subject will reveal itself…

Art is floating around waiting for those attentive enough to pick up its call and hear it’s message at whatever hour, wherever it may call…

Anyone is capable of great art, all you need is just to be willing to surrender yourself and become the messenger through which art manifests itself…
Letting go of any ppreconceived ideas of what it should be, and let it be as it is… As it wants to be, as it’s meant to be…

The artist is a messenger who must remain faithful and true to the source, giving up the egos agenda…
Art is made with whatever medium you have; if you have paint paint, if you have words write… If all you have is your two hands but you are really inspired to make art, then that nothing turns into anything and everything and your life becomes art…

Serve your soul; that’s where good art is born.

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