I am standing on the balcony, leaning against the guardrail. I am looking afar. A sail is fleeing to the horizon. A glass of Bordeaux in my left hand, A brush in the other, I let my passion express itself.
Paris is a living, breathing, thriving art scene. Street faces are ever changing. Every fortnight, an anonymous fresco replaces another. So much is exposed, fleetingly, then disappears, covered and covered again. So much is shown. So much is hidden, brushed over, never to be seen again.
– ART – Art makes the world a better place. It stirs emotions in people. It brings to light horrors, beauties, and shows everything in between. It reveals what would otherwise remain unseen. Beware though and look past the frame into its soul.
That was the second time, Timothy walked in this place. It was a case of love at first sight between the man and this hotel. He had not needed many visits to sign the deeds. Just one look and he was all in.
Playing with light Shades, colors, shapes and Matter, eyes of photographers Just like those of painters – Though using different tools – Diligently portray Nature’s miracles,
I need art to breathe, To feel alive, to steal, Instill life on my page. Captured, encrypted, twisted, Or untouched, untainted, merely observed. Surrounded, immerged, Overwhelmed, I feel whole, complete, And utterly serene.
Between an artist and their instrument I believe there is a bond, forged in an instant, Tantamount to mystical action. Within, you reach out. Withal, you pour in. You start playing – the sounds, the notes, The feel, its grip – that link is stronger than you. You dive in and merge.