Its funny how pain can bring out the best in people. Creation is born from human suffering, because where happiness is fleeting, pain is eternal and universal. Everyone feels the same pain, just in greater and smaller amounts. All men know of betrayal of that inner destruction which, unlike physical pain, slowly tears away at the soul. There is no cure for this pain, the only medication being moments of forgetfulness when the ache can be ignored and momentarily forgotten. But, as certain as the golden line that brushes the east every morning, you will eventually remember your pain.
But, as humans, we have developed a way to control the pain. Push it away, tell yourself it is less than it truly is. Place your emotions outside yourself, upon the canvas’ stoic image, the blinking sheet of paper that stares wide eyed at nothing at all. We give inanimate objects faces through our own feelings, create them in the image of hatred and sadness so strong that it seems to spill out into the air for everyone to see, and feel.
This is our art, the power to ignore and forget, so that, if only for a little while, we can taste the bittersweet peace that cannot even be imagined in dreams.