“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.
It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.” – Ray Bradbury
Artists are artists because they want to create beauty. It’s as simple as that. This creative urge, the decision to spend precious time writing, painting, dancing, singing, it is nothing more than our desire to leave something behind. A trace. Proof that, indeed, we were here. We were alive. We did not live in vain.
We did not only managed to survive, but also to thrive.
This is the mission of the artist.
This is why his love for his craft.
He admires the beauty others before him have bestowed upon the world, and he wishes to add to it. This is the calling; what truly matters.
The ability to admire art is essential to being able to create it.
Truth be told, some artists love art more than they love life. Art may be inspired by life, but it is different. A longing for what could never be, or a description of what we hope never to come. Art describes who we are but also who we wish to be. Art makes us feel when life simply cannot. Or, better yet, what life cannot.
Art for the love of art.
This is the way. The only way. All else won’t stand the test of time, will crumble in the face of adversity.