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from simple to grateful to glory in one watercolour stroke.
but today is artist's day. so i find it fitting, in a way, that everything becomes fluid on a day like this. a day when we take a moment to acknowledge the phoenix of art.
because we have stories. artists, you and i together. is it so strange that some paint with words and others write with brush and fervour on the canvas? but we're just the same.
art is the celebration of imperfection.
to dance, to sing, to paint, to write to compose. on the canvas of paper, wood, air, and skin.
:: it's embracing imperfection ::
it's all skin art. it's safely slicing a vein and letting it flow onto surfaces that abound in number. it's different for us all.
some find refuge in the studio with paint-streaked hair and eyes that whisper images that they conceive and birth to the world. others seek the solace of wooden floors and muted lighting and their feet and lips that move in tandem.
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it's our haven.
it's that place where we sit, hands down and eyes turned up. the place where we sit with the Savior like little ones with fingerpaints and sticks of wax and charcoal, where His hand wraps around ours and we create with the measure of soul and love that only the Great Artist could impart.
do you see what we are?
we're clay thrown on the wheel that turns and throws a vessel itself.
we're the glorifiers. the prisms. the image-catchers.
we're the created turned artists.
every poet and musician and artist, but for grace, is drawn away from love of the things he tells to love of the telling... ~c.s. lewis
