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Tell us about your inspirational journey as an artist
Every artist struggles in the beginning. Till he becomes a successful person in his field, he has to face several difficulties in his career. Let us know your stories about your inspirations, strengths, courage & success.
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Permalink Reply by Txaro Tejada Medina on
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La lucha diaria interna por la expresión de lo inefable, es mi trabajo diario. Las largas horas de meditación en soledad durante muchos años, son el lugar donde busco lo preciso para ello.
Las circunstancias adeversas, lejos de amedrentarme, me acrecientan el ánimo, como a Don Quijote. Todo lo que vivo es parte de un gran laboratorio en el que experimentar las sensaciones, las emociones que no son otra cosa que la voz del Gran Espíritu, llámese Dios, Jehová, Buda, Manitú o cualquiera de los nombres que los distintos pueblos de la Tierra le han dado al Gran Misterio.
Eso es el arte para mi: tratar de captar ese Gran Misterio que es la vida.
Además me interesan los viajes interiores, el camino , el Tao, la constancia del cambio como esencia de las todas las cosas. Por decirlo con un verso de Pessoa, "La maravillosa realidad de las cosas, es mi descubrimiento de todos los días". /"A espantosa realidade das coissas é a minha descoberta de todos os días"
La pintura, la poesía, el teatro, la novela y el ensayo son para mi vías de acercamiento a ese Gran Misterio. ¡Solo el arte es clarividente!,
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Permalink Reply by Dr. Krishna Kumari Challa on
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Here is the translation provided by Paz for this reply. Thanks Charo & Paz.
The inner daily struggle to express the "unknown" is my work. Long hours of meditation in solitude for many years, are the spot where I look for it. Adverse circumstances, far from frightening me,cheer me up, like Don Quixote. Everything I live is part of a laboratory where I experience sensations, emotions, which are not other, but the voice of the Great Spirit, call it God, Jehovah, Buddha, or Manitou any of the names that different people of the Earth had given to the Great Mystery. This is art to me: trying to capture that great mystery which is life. Also I am interested in inner knowledge, ways, the Tao, the constancy of change as the essence of all things . To write words of Pessoa writer:"The wonderful reality of things, is my daily discovery". Painting, poetry, drama, novel and essay are my way to approach to the Great Mystery. Only art is clairvoyant!,
Charo Tejada Medina said:La lucha diaria interna por la expresión de lo inefable, es mi trabajo diario. Las largas horas de meditación en soledad durante muchos años, son el lugar donde busco lo preciso para ello.
Las circunstancias adeversas, lejos de amedrentarme, me acrecientan el ánimo, como a Don Quijote. Todo lo que vivo es parte de un gran laboratorio en el que experimentar las sensaciones, las emociones que no son otra cosa que la voz del Gran Espíritu, llámese Dios, Jehová, Buda, Manitú o cualquiera de los nombres que los distintos pueblos de la Tierra le han dado al Gran Misterio.
Eso es el arte para mi: tratar de captar ese Gran Misterio que es la vida.
Además me interesan los viajes interiores, el camino , el Tao, la constancia del cambio como esencia de las todas las cosas. Por decirlo con un verso de Pessoa, "La maravillosa realidad de las cosas, es mi descubrimiento de todos los días". /"A espantosa realidade das coissas é a minha descoberta de todos os días"
La pintura, la poesía, el teatro, la novela y el ensayo son para mi vías de acercamiento a ese Gran Misterio. ¡Solo el arte es clarividente!,
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Permalink Reply by Prince Freakasso on
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My journey was a very strange one. I thought that love would flood my soul,I dreamt a life of bliss;after years of tears and pent up pain: I spilt my blood on canvas.--- Princefreakasso
I was the scion of an affluent,prestigious and aristocratic family. Some with private jets,Van Gogh's,Picassos and Claude Monets. A psychic clairvoyant from two,and a full fledged artist by seven;I have studied everything worth studying about art. My conclusion? An artist is born,never made. Art is in the message, not the dressage.
Like most stereotype artists,I too was naive enough to try to capture such a fickle ,transient and superficial thing as the realistic beauty of nature,where one is in a losing battle with the greatest painter....God himself.
On the other end of the spectrum,non figurative abstractionism;evoked in me strong feelings of guilt,as it seemed to emanate from a soul that had lost it's enthusiasm.An artist waiting for a happy accident to happen.
No denying,during my formative years I sold hundreds of this sort of pedantic art to a global clientele,without much effort on my part.But it did not impress me,since it appeared too conformist.
Kicked out of home in my teens by my very influential late father,I now slept on the pavements,I lay on the stone;on a stomach that hungered:fed by some leper'd old crone.
Flirting with journalism,I moved on to management in many five star hotels around the world,selling my drab art here also.With my earlier financial constraints easing considerably,my mind got obsessed with two things I craved for desperately.Family and love! Both had continued to evade me,and I wanted so badly to belong somewhere.
A firm beleiver that woman is the veritable Goddess of life,while family the very effervescence of any home;I entered into consecutive marriages that turned into a holocaust.Losing everything I had struggled painfully to acquire,including the precious love of my children in both the cases;I now stood devastated. Precariously hanging onto nothing,save fragments of my sanity; I began to hate the world. Courting criminal thoughts,I earnestly wanted to make it run red somewhere. Having worked part time as an undercover sleuth for some of the topmost investigative agencies in the world,including Interpol;I was well aware of the stakes involved.
But was hate extinguished with hate? Standing at the crossroads,it seemed the most difficult question of them all.
And then an unexpected thing happened! A very startling vision that changed everything. A vision,not of something as bankrupt as God's,Goddesses or a dead carcass ,floating in a cesspool of filth;neither was it as mundane as an installation of junk made up of pots,cans,commodes and bedpans.But a vision of a strange and unique place in a world beyond.
The denizens here not unlike me,were the victims of earths,mans inhumanity to man.Casualties of rape,violence,terrorism,murder,racism,religion and a host of other trespasses, they seemed to reach out despite their ugliness and grotesque forms,to forgive their trespassers. With their pain now gone,their scars still shone. Yet their love they wanted to share,with someone who'd care.This was not an ephemeral world of vain opposites and hypocrites.Unlike the mirages of the past,these were my new family.They whole heartedly offered me support.My canvas,so that I may forget my sorrows,while mirroring the images of their soul.
Transformed from an artist to a heartist,my cerebral creations on paper or canvas are my pain....things.
Titled in Latin the language of the heavens,and French the true language of art's soul;I feel like Paris' true (hot cute heir) a high prince of heart.My loving ugly beasts of paradise,have long since put paid to my pretentious bloodlines and the vast libraries of my mind.They have taught me, that to forgive is to love. God so loved the world........he sent his only precious dove.
Sir Paul Macartney sighed, "Money can't buy me love". Yes Paul! Money can't buy you true love.....Only love will.
IT MAY NOT MATTER REALLY ,WHERE YOU EVENTUALLY FIND IT?
Princefreakasso? Thats me!
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Very touching. I am glad finally you found peace & love Prince.
Krishna
Prince Freakasso said:My journey was a very strange one. I thought that love would flood my soul,I dreamt a life of bliss;after years of tears and pent up pain: I spilt my blood on canvas.--- Princefreakasso
I was the scion of an affluent,prestigious and aristocratic family. Some with private jets,Van Gogh's,Picassos and Claude Monets. A psychic clairvoyant from two,and a full fledged artist by seven;I have studied everything worth studying about art. My conclusion? An artist is born,never made. Art is in the message, not the dressage.
Like most stereotype artists,I too was naive enough to try to capture such a fickle ,transient and superficial thing as the realistic beauty of nature,where one is in a losing battle with the greatest painter....God himself.
On the other end of the spectrum,non figurative abstractionism;evoked in me strong feelings of guilt,as it seemed to emanate from a soul that had lost it's enthusiasm.An artist waiting for a happy accident to happen.
No denying,during my formative years I sold hundreds of this sort of pedantic art to a global clientele,without much effort on my part.But it did not impress me,since it appeared too conformist.
Kicked out of home in my teens by my very influential late father,I now slept on the pavements,I lay on the stone;on a stomach that hungered:fed by some leper'd old crone.
Flirting with journalism,I moved on to management in many five star hotels around the world,selling my drab art here also.With my earlier financial constraints easing considerably,my mind got obsessed with two things I craved for desperately.Family and love! Both had continued to evade me,and I wanted so badly to belong somewhere.
A firm beleiver that woman is the veritable Goddess of life,while family the very effervescence of any home;I entered into consecutive marriages that turned into a holocaust.Losing everything I had struggled painfully to acquire,including the precious love of my children in both the cases;I now stood devastated. Precariously hanging onto nothing,save fragments of my sanity; I began to hate the world. Courting criminal thoughts,I earnestly wanted to make it run red somewhere. Having worked part time as an undercover sleuth for some of the topmost investigative agencies in the world,including Interpol;I was well aware of the stakes involved.
But was hate extinguished with hate? Standing at the crossroads,it seemed the most difficult question of them all.
And then an unexpected thing happened! A very startling vision that changed everything. A vision,not of something as bankrupt as God's,Goddesses or a dead carcass ,floating in a cesspool of filth;neither was it as mundane as an installation of junk made up of pots,cans,commodes and bedpans.But a vision of a strange and unique place in a world beyond.
The denizens here not unlike me,were the victims of earths,mans inhumanity to man.Casualties of rape,violence,terrorism,murder,racism,religion and a host of other trespasses, they seemed to reach out despite their ugliness and grotesque forms,to forgive their trespassers. With their pain now gone,their scars still shone. Yet their love they wanted to share,with someone who'd care.This was not an ephemeral world of vain opposites and hypocrites.Unlike the mirages of the past,these were my new family.They whole heartedly offered me support.My canvas,so that I may forget my sorrows,while mirroring the images of their soul.
Transformed from an artist to a heartist,my cerebral creations on paper or canvas are my pain....things.
Titled in Latin the language of the heavens,and French the true language of art's soul;I feel like Paris' true (hot cute heir) a high prince of heart.My loving ugly beasts of paradise,have long since put paid to my pretentious bloodlines and the vast libraries of my mind.They have taught me, that to forgive is to love. God so loved the world........he sent his only precious dove.
Sir Paul Macartney sighed, "Money can't buy me love". Yes Paul! Money can't buy you true love.....Only love will.
IT MAY NOT MATTER REALLY ,WHERE YOU EVENTUALLY FIND IT?
Princefreakasso? Thats me!
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Thank you Dr.Krishna. It's wonderful and chosen ones like you, who in reality make the world a better place.May the light which has shone to illuminate your path,so much of which you have shared with others;continue to brighten up your way and show you God's way.A zillion blessings.PRINCE
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When Dr.Krishna asked the question.Tell us about your spiritual journey,I thought it was a fantastic one and answered it with my heart. I always find people afraid to reach out.With lip service they tell you about the Buddha,Karma,Dharma and Soul.But as a psychic,again from my heart I say they know not what they speak! Classic fakes,they are afraid to show the skeletons they hope will not tumble out someday. Life is truth! Look at Tiger Woods today,he has no place to hide.What good that fame,those millions and that sensational Golfing capability;when the media has reduced you to a mental wreck? Life means exchange. Hiding in the darkness and hoping nobody finds out your weaknesses is not fraternal. You have be frank and fearless.Never mind what people may say.Be true to your conscience! All problems in this world are problems,of disharmony.If more people express themselves,the world will be truly enlightened and we don't need the Buddha to tell us that.....PRINCE
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It is a true sign of learning, Minnie. Hope one day you will be able to find harmony between your inner self & your work.
Minnie W. Shuler said:There is an inner light that drives me forward in my art, perhaps an obsession. I become so totally absorbed at times that I can think of nothing else. While I do not work on it, I think on it constantly untill finally I free the thoughts through expression. Seldom pleased with the results, so unlike the purest dream yet I am still driven to proceed. My art changes over time and I can see it drawing closer to the insite, but not yet. It shimmers in the future, tempting...enticing, maddening...beconing to venture in and dare to see something a new way. Sometimes it's like a fresh drink, others a bitter well. My senses flourish on colors, lines and forms. At times it does not matter in the least if they form something recognizable or just patterns other times I am vexed severly over appearance. I must struggle to be the master, yet at times I know I am not. Sometime I get stuck on a problem in construction, an idea or a feeling. I hope that my conscious will one day catch up to my inner vision, my dreams, my imagination, my emotion, my passion, my soul - ufettered, free and soaring - recklessly abandoning any ties to convention, forgetting demand alltogether.
Prince Freakasso said:Thank you Dr.Krishna. It's wonderful and chosen ones like you, who in reality make the world a better place.May the light which has shone to illuminate your path,so much of which you have shared with others;continue to brighten up your way and show you God's way.A zillion blessings.PRINCE
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Very true! When a person believes he learnt a lot & everything even though he is still living & learning, arrogance
takes the front seat in his or her mind & drives that person's life into difficult situations.
Marcelino Ferreiro Paz said:People go through life trying to learn and succed, and once that person happen to believe He learnt a little, He dies......
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I feel man has failed to learn anything.Because there 's too much to learn,but man can definitely learn to love his fellow human beings.That forms the basic instinct of all living creatures.Life is not about success! What may be contentment for one may be discontent for another.So called success and elevation brings automatic and justified arrogance too.For arrogance is just another word for pride in ones achievements.We cannot expect a top leader or highly successful person not to have a degree of pride in him.The day he loses his pride,his self esteem will surely suffer and he will be reduced to rubble.One of the proudest men was the great,Cassius Marcellus Clay aka Muhammed Ali. This champion boxer once was on an airplane flying to some place,when suddenly the aircraft flew into turbulent weather.The flight steward announced "tighten your seat belts please" and all complied, except Ali.Vexed the steward asked Ali as to why he had not fastened his seat belt,and Ali replied "Superman don't need no seatbelt".Without batting an eyelid the steward replied"Superman don't need no airplane either".Poor Ali off course today has been reduced to an ambling bufoon,with Parkinsons getting the better of him,but he's a wonderful human being.I remember my father had written about him many years ago and he wrote to me a beautiful letter when I was a boy and somehow I felt he was a big black man,with a bigger red heart.He will live on as one of the greatest boxers the world has ever seen.....PRINCE
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