(1 min read)
Hats off to the artists: the fools, the geniuses, the ones insane with love and deep into a pursuit of which they don’t know the ending.
Hats off to the artists: those that dive deep into their own darkness and light every day, bold enough to stare at their soul, even after it looks back at them.
Hats off to the artists, who give up everything already valued in search of odd, angular, broken relics that we walk over and past on our way to the Big Time.
Artists. They see something and it’s not enough to see it; they have to find a way to break it down to its tiniest atoms, to know it better than anyone else so that everyone else can know it that way too.
Their feet and hands bleed so we can carry something back in from the cold and insert it into the corner of our room like a space heater, giving back to us endlessly, appreciated every time we notice it’s there.
Hats off to the artists.
Your work is what changes us and changes the world. Without your inventions cared for like stray animals, without your scribbled lines and wicked vibrations we’d be in a box in a box in a box, hoping for a weed to grow through the cracks in the floor, uncertain as to why we’re so cold.