This theme which I am choosing to focus on is one that requires some explaining. For those who know me even remotely well, they know that I am an artist; my drawings are as much a passion as they are a necessity. I am entirely convinced that without my outlet to express my inner abstractions and emotions visually, I would go completely and utterly insane. I digress. Literature and Visual Art are simply different representations of the same essence. Throughout this blog, my aim is to divulged into the nature and complexity of artistic expression, keeping a focus on my passion for drawing as well as finding similarities in the art of literature.
My love for art is one that stems from a need for release. There is an immensity to the world around us, and it is difficult not to get lost in this immensity. I find myself questioning the very nature of life itself, no not in the melodramatic sense, rather in a state of pure facination. The way we can communicate is literally infinite. For this reason Visual Art is so liberating; those who claim that artists have already done everything there is to do have closed off their minds to the vastness of our existence. I argue that we have but scratched the surface of the art world, for for painting painted, there are infinity plus one that await to come into existence. Literature is as infinite as Visual Art in the same respect. Just think of all the unwritten stories lying deep in the minds of passionate individuals, awaiting the day they are manifested into tangible form.
For my second outside reading novel, I read "Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison. I loved this story for its sheer insight into the human condition. The protagonist, despite being nameless throughout the entire novel, is ironically one of the most relatable characters I have had the pleasure of identifying with. This "invisible man" is not invisible in the literal sense, his invisibility is derived from the people around him who fail to see him as an individual. Throughout the story we find him always caught up in some role, acting as a pawn in the game of others; a cog in a machine if you will. This message that the book delivered- the idea of trying to hold onto our individuality in a society that is blind to the absurdity of conformity; Its quite startling. This piece below that I stumbled across (unfortunately I could not find the original artist's name) projects the very essence of a blind society. In the painting, despite some distinctions in physical appearance, these people might as well be carbon copies. They appear to be dressed for work, one again enforcing the idea that they are cogs in a bigger machine; their personal interests are irrelevant as long as they do and act as they are expected. They are all the same monochromatic shade of dark yellow; the longer I stare, the more i want for one of them to turn bright purple and sprint in the opposite direction.
My love for art is one that stems from a need for release. There is an immensity to the world around us, and it is difficult not to get lost in this immensity. I find myself questioning the very nature of life itself, no not in the melodramatic sense, rather in a state of pure facination. The way we can communicate is literally infinite. For this reason Visual Art is so liberating; those who claim that artists have already done everything there is to do have closed off their minds to the vastness of our existence. I argue that we have but scratched the surface of the art world, for for painting painted, there are infinity plus one that await to come into existence. Literature is as infinite as Visual Art in the same respect. Just think of all the unwritten stories lying deep in the minds of passionate individuals, awaiting the day they are manifested into tangible form.
For my second outside reading novel, I read "Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison. I loved this story for its sheer insight into the human condition. The protagonist, despite being nameless throughout the entire novel, is ironically one of the most relatable characters I have had the pleasure of identifying with. This "invisible man" is not invisible in the literal sense, his invisibility is derived from the people around him who fail to see him as an individual. Throughout the story we find him always caught up in some role, acting as a pawn in the game of others; a cog in a machine if you will. This message that the book delivered- the idea of trying to hold onto our individuality in a society that is blind to the absurdity of conformity; Its quite startling. This piece below that I stumbled across (unfortunately I could not find the original artist's name) projects the very essence of a blind society. In the painting, despite some distinctions in physical appearance, these people might as well be carbon copies. They appear to be dressed for work, one again enforcing the idea that they are cogs in a bigger machine; their personal interests are irrelevant as long as they do and act as they are expected. They are all the same monochromatic shade of dark yellow; the longer I stare, the more i want for one of them to turn bright purple and sprint in the opposite direction.
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