That's Not Art

Freedom by Stephanie C. Weaver

It happened again when I opened my heart. My art took a right even though it felt wrong. The more I wondered and explored and the happier my face became. I could feel the excitement wrinkle in my forehead and cheeks. More light flooded my eyes and the world was brighter. I was alive again and everything was new. I let it be and was happy and at peace. Not perfect, just was. It was beautiful, and I was beautiful, and life was beautiful. This is what art is to me. 

I leap and I play. I hate it but keep going, and through all of the shame, it transforms itself. It gains strength and before I know it, I am looking at something that makes me feel as light and cheerful as the sweetest bag of cotton candy only allowed at the state fair. I have unleashed myself from my own prison and now it all is good. 

“That's not art,” is the fear. “Who cares! My art is me.” Each piece of art is like another human. It's not good or bad, it just is. And that is enough. No more needed than to be. And like art, the Artist sees only good and perfection. The creator sees only good and perfection. And that is what art is to me too. 

Art doesn't need to make logical sense. It was never meant to. It is enough as is, just as each one of us is enough as we are. Simple as that!

City Vibes by Stephanie C. Weaver