Being an artist is a tough job but not so tough as to make the artist stop living and loving himself or herself. It is freedom as long as it’s production manages to remain unbound by the limited and repititive circle of time. The worldly constraints make it difficult to practice.
An artist is complete in himself or herself— in its wholeness and in the void of it. Artist succumbs but art survives. Art surpasses time and an artist surpasses herself beyond both. Art is spread all around— in each bit of this world. In fact, the world itself is a composition of art— every inch and every particle of it.
Interestingly, art fruits from within the hardships of life. An artist has the quality of seeing life and tackling through the mirrored reality and coming out smiling through these hardships—stronger and wiser. This quality makes the artist unique and teaches her the quality of smiling through pains as it is a reality that life has a major quotient of pain and lessons than the minor proportion of happiness and satisfaction. Art results from loneliness. It depicts the choosing nature of humans. It makes us ponder deeply— art reflects life or life reflects art?