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Rated: 13+ · Folder · Arts · #1517871
The tragedy and beauty of art, and the struggle to find myself expressed in poem.
Whilst I do paint, I do not consider myself an artist. I have done many paintings over the years, some complete and fulfilling, some lost forever in my private morgue. This area is the beginning of myself, and how I will attempt to relate what I feel, and what I want to feel when painting.

Often times I have no troubles pouring my heart out the world before me through art. I do not care what others think of who I am, however, for some reason I do care about what others think of my art. That last bit is the one thing that I am struggling to break free from. Forever looking for some sort of reason for my art to exist and be appreciated. Why should I care? I resist every aspect of conformity, every aspect of society that holds me back, and yet I struggle within my own sense of self to be free.

I have always questioned everything in life, love, and beliefs. Here and now is my time to question myself and express what it truly is to be an artist in a time when art is all but dead to all but a few.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/portfolio/item_id/1517871-Behind-the-eyes-of-a-struggling-artist