I do not wish to analyze why I choose writing as my canvas. Though I feel at this time, art of such personal release may in fact tame my passion if only for awhile. It has been a constant battle of colours that over time have unintentionally mixed together, making my once reliable brushes slowly lose their purpose like a butterfly on it's final flight. Though the moment it shares with you is only brief, you still feel always so lucky to have seen it. The picture starts as a blank canvas in all its vulnerability. The many different shades it could become if not for the dark shadow that steals the sunlight from the page and not knowing in that moment of opportunity, the masterpiece, the life, & the love would forever be a reflection of that dark memory. The first pure thought of creativity influenced by a dirty little secret. The man that stole my first ink also stole my innocence. Even in it's stages of a rough draft, the picture takes on a different shape. The potential for another layer is taken from the world that surrounds me. Looking at mother-nature for inspiration, its the sounds I can hear which soon allows me feel free again. Revealing my new skin in this moment feels like its ok to erase what's there and start again. Within time the canvas becomes like a home. An honest work of movement that begins to complement the strengths which I have worked so hard to achieve. The canvas being a protection from all that continues to challenge me. The expression from one is not alike to the other and with the lessons learnt in my human life, I am able to transform onto the page with the fighting spirit of the animal that lives inside. Before long in all the mystery of art, a moment arises where nothing more can be done. The story has been told, the brushes are wet, the paint has dried, the reasons for the release have been complete. However it is hard to appreciate the end without understanding where it is you have been. The pallet is no stranger to my imagination and the space we share together captures this moment always. I choose my frame like I choose my wall, in hope that one day the eye of the beholder may be captured by my masterpiece, my life, and my love and see that it is just a blank canvas waiting to be brushed upon again.
© Copyright 2016 Shaye. All rights reserved.
Miscellaneous / True Confessions
Poem / Editorial and Opinion
Poem / True Confessions
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