User:Orignlskin

Well, what should I say here. I paint as I see things, and I paint with a passion that I hope filters through to my work. The subjects I choose, are for a time, short or long, a sort of preoccupation in My life. I am never fully aware of what the finished look will be, or when I am complete. It just sort of happens that I look at something and know that there is little else I can do to put emotion into it.

Which is what all painting is to me, an emotional device, a vehicle to bring out my thoughts, no matter how small or vague, and to see them in the light, in the flesh, in the absolute world, the real world.

From what I guess, every artist is driven. Some are even driven mad. But that drive, that is the key. What makes you tick inside? Is it computers, or books, or strip clubs and whiskey?

Whatever it is, that's your art. If you can relate all of your feelings into something, then to me that's it. That's a release. I guess I can sum it all up by telling you that sometimes, when I'm painting, I imagine that I am standing on grass, warm grass, and that I am just fine in the world, and the painting tails on that emotion. But sometimes, and maybe more often, I'm standing on a broken wine glass, the wetness of the wine, mixing with my own blood, the pain, the intensity, all at once lighting up my mind and my eyes, thought's come at frantic paces, and I am gone from this place, this world, just for a little while.

In everyone of my paintings, you will see a touch of that, and a touch of the grass, or the woods, in which I have a treehouse built high in the sky, a memory from my child hood that I use quite often to relate myself to things I really like. The smooth wind caressed me then, lulled me as I read books way up there, until I fell asleep in the arms of a giant.

And that I guess is what my view on art is. Whether the medium be paint, pencil, ink, stone, metal or flesh, matters not here. It's the emotion that a peice conveys that makes something art. Just think of that plastic bag from American Beauty, gently floating, never quite being anywhere specific. That is art to me.