The Beauty of Art is the Voice of the Artist

Writers are not the only storytellers of art. As with writing, painting has the power to transform. The painter’s story begins with a blank canvas. Then, as the first loaded paintbrush glides across, breaking its white surface with every stroke of color, the art diffuses into the white and bleeds out the canvas. Joy dribbles onto the bare floor, anger splatters the walls, and sorrow melts onto the wooden easel.

The writer conjures ideas that blend like paint strokes until they form words on the blank page, as colors do with shapes on the canvas. The canvas is your mind, the colors are your imagination, and the brush strokes paint the shapes to form your story. Then, the story sings, filling your mind with music, your heart with rhythm, and your body with the beat of every word.

We can think of a painting as a system. The painter can paint her story in deep, dark tones. For depth, she adds a splash of blazing yellow. As with a sentence, where each word’s functionality relies on its relation to the whole, the painting’s elements draw purpose from its contextual relationship with the rest. With every bold stroke, she manifests perspective and creates texture, scintillation, and mood. The painter becomes an extension of her art, and the art is the external projection of the painter.

The painter’s story is like a breath of life, equipped with a brush-sculptured voice.

When the painter narrates her story, it is as though every piece of the artwork is alive and breathing. Her voice is resonant and timbres harmonious. It is unclouded by accents, reverberating in the audience’s ears to connect them with the sentiment and emotion of the art’s completion. The art speaks to you in loud tones, even if it is without words. Though the voice is never perfect, it is the rawness of inner truth, untamed and untrained — a windy melody, clanging, stinging, and slicing. By listening, the simple fact becomes parallel to the painted reality. Pain transforms into a work of art, and suffering is as genuine as exuberant splendor. The simple becomes a beautiful complexity, and the ‘nothing’ thrills the audience. Even a mere glance of the blue sky is a masterpiece.

I paint, and I write, but both mediums do not visit me together.

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