At night, before going to bed, I am always painting with watercolors.
I am not very good at it, but I take that time to experiment with it and forget about everything else.
I don’t know why watercolor suddenly appeals to me so much, perhaps Art is like falling in love.
You don’t know when it’s going to happen, you don’t know why either. It just happens, it comes to you when you let it.
It doesn’t matter if you aren’t a very promising artist. The artistic form chooses you and fills you with so much love, it’s up to you whether you want to give that love back or not.
A pure, subtle form of seduction takes place and all of a sudden, you are creating something with an ethereal presence by your side. The energy guides your hand and flows to you with elegance and grace.
And when you wake up from this sweet dream, like in the famous poem by Coleridge, you end up having a flower in your hands. Who made that flower? Had it always been there? Where does it come from?
It doesn’t matter if the flower is a childish sketch, or a simple story written on candid paper.
You gaze at it in wonder and something beautiful happens inside you.
What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower
And what if When you awoke
You had that flower in you hand
Ah, what then?
Thank you for being so Special.