As Debussy’s delicate harmony carries me through states of wonder and revery, I can’t help but question the nature of Art.
What is it here for, other than to provoque a reaction in others? To see if life is still within, monotone grey logical calculated people.
Art is then, which stirs up emotion from our depths. Emotions we thought were dead, or of which we were clueless.
The artist’s mission is not only to create beauty and harmony and a sense of awe, but to bring people back to life, through any way possible.
He must be a master in art, in order to reveal people to themselves. Their dying hearts, lingering, hoping, praying for passion, vividness, love…
In the world we live in, people are too calculated, too thought out. They know how their days, weeks, years will play out, well before they happen.
Their lives, a series of systems, ready to encapsulate and steer their hearts to places their minds know only too well.
Except their hearts, free and wild animals. Long for Jungles, discovery, enchantment, anything unpredictable… anything unknown.
To live in a world, where we know everything before it happens is boring. To be safe, protected, to know beforehand that we’ll be okay as we live in cushy comfortable cells of analysis.
The freedom and passion calls, and chants out to the monotone lifestyles of hoping hearts..