My paint is in flux, Intertwined with the paint brush, Visual potency to the last finger tipped touch
This brush is my own. My thoughts, undefined. This brush is reality; a truth that's just mine.
Heart felt strokes amplify the inner thoughts that lurk on the inside, made visible when the brush and canvas combine thick and thin lines. Cerebral motions are important when creating an art potion, My musical notes be flowing through the art while my brush is stroking; Heart is now content it's no longer broken
Satisfied, fulfilled; a weight lifted up. Through the art newly born, an answer erupts. No longer a question, for all answers are told. Through the blushes of red; the dashes of gold. You can see what she is, how shy and how bold. The textures, the colors. The story, she says. The thoughts now seen on the canvas outside of her head. canvas multicolored stained, some jovial colors some are filled with disdain. Multigrain texture perfect portraits no 2 are the same. Ignites a burning in my belly but the blue is the flame, the red is the sky from the burning inside, multiple images and messages assigned when the canvas and the colors collide. Designs travel from the mind to the pastels, illustrating the past to the present time now, and the paint is the only proper form that the story can tell. Answers become apparent no longer an inquiry, combination of hue serves as my visionary diary.The canvas is my mirror you see the paint is apart of me, the mirror to my soul, a story now told as the pictures unfold. This is me now behold!
