If you were to be enclosed in one word, what would that be?
We are already enclosed in small words, small events, and small thoughts, making up a bigger picture. But what if you respond to only one word?
My word is freedom. I know of nobody being free, but in our world populated with clouds that sweep away the silence of the sky above the blue lilacs of Amaranthine Spring, I am free. My freedom is but at the words’ length of a magic rub of the lamp of imagination.
Without freedom, we cannot feel the wind’s promiscuous touch as if on ripe flowers and leaves; without freedom, we cannot be as young as yesteryear’s roses. We cannot see Autumn climbing up the vines and the heartbeat of the moon, alive and beckoning.
Only with freedom of vision and thought can we unleash our unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful world inside of us.
“Everybody has a secret world inside of them, I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody – inside them they’ve got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds….” Neil Gaiman
You cannot paint in colors and words unless your mind is free to travel to your imaginary, legendary lands between the corner of sunset and the verge of dawn. Unless your heart dances to the tune hummed by a water lily. Unless your mind is raving at the wild, immaculate trees. With freedom and broken dreams, you can do anything. The shards of olden dreams are lavish land for new unbroken dreams.
“A painting to me is primarily a verb, not a noun, an event first and only secondarily an image.”- Elaine de Kooning
A painting is not a noun, it is a verb—to love. To love with fierce freedom and the lovely despair of losing one’s self into the loving.
In love, we are maneuvering a human mechanism that at times refuses to work…That is clear, but the trying is enchanting. Buckets of enchantment color ethereal worldly beings in agonizing freedom and…love.
Art by Gustave Adolphe Mossa.