Vision doesn’t come to everyone.
But even the blind can see.
The blank canvas is our sand.
The ink, our ichor.
Gladiators, are you ready?
What you do, what we all do, matters.
How we do it, matters.
That we do it…together…matters.
People first told stories with their hands.
Leaving paint and soot on cave walls as a historical mark.
For hundreds of years, tapestry represented stories in woven images.
Paintings lead to written word and photography into video.
Our society is broken.
But that is not new.
Art has always been unappreciated and taken for granted.
Always.
Now we face a very real yet artificial threat.
Human endeavor sacrificed at the altar of progress…for the sake of someone else’s gain.
Prey for their golden idol.
That white page we all start with is stained in blood and grieved over in tears.
It is both an enigma and a siren calling you toward the rocks…until the page itself unveils what it was always intended to be.
The crowd is not cheering.
It is leering.
The difference is not subtle.
Only you can dignify your art by bringing it to life.
The world doesn’t need more stuff.
But art…couldn’t we all due with a little more of that?
That gasp that makes your throat stick.
That image that sticks in your mind and makes you ponder life a little longer.
The hand of the artist will find a way to get it done, as true as you draw breath.