9.17.2013

Ar.Tist



According to the definition, I am, actually, an artist.
This doesn't imply that my works are good or worth to watch. And the numbers talk pretty well: I have been running this blog since...2011? And right now I'm pretty sure I'm writing just for myself. I have an account on deviantart, and the "like" I got can be counted on the fingers of half hand. My fanfictions aren't so appreciated, and my original stories...no one reads them.
But that's ok, the reason why I'm keeping doing this is just for my satisfaction. That's right, when I draw something and it turns out to be pretty good I say to myself "Good job girl, you're getting better!".
I like watching and making what could be tagged as art, because, I think I love it (or maybe some of its forms).
I love when my hands move by themselves, commanded by some suggestion my brain gives them under inspiration.
I love the feeling of relief and self-enjoyment when the piece is finished.
I love trying hard to make all my creations perfect.
If someone likes it as well, that' great; but other's appreciation is not what I'm looking for, actually when I draw or write, the only thing I'm searching is a creation which expresses my feelings towards something/someone (the fact that these often are imaginary people could be not spoken), I wanna see my dreams keeping shape in front of me. Because to me, art is the expression of yourself, the magic dimension in which there's no time running.
That's why I don't mind if people don't notice me, because in the end, I'm happy with just drawing poor pictures and writing creepy literature. 

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