This is a lovely picture of being alone in a room. The brush strokes are colorful—filled with memories of a past life with friends and loved ones faded with every stroke. A model image with just you. Every primary color dripping from the brush reflects an image of you reaching out to no one. The contacts in your phone are filled with silent replies. No returned calls. Empty messages. The room is quiet and off in the corner there’s an image of a book. A book that you often read to pass the time. Over on the couch is the spot where you used to play with your wife and family, a house filled with kids. On the wall is a picture of relatives that have passed on. You then pick up your old camera only to realize that most stars die in a room alone in a world still enjoying their work and many never make it to the curtain call. At the end of my work, I kindly take my brush and dip it into black paint. In the end even the small stars fade to black only to have visions of an auditorium filled with people while you sit back stage waiting on your cue with old memories of her, sadly, never to manifest. I’m an artist that believes in happy endings so I’ll paint the image of her waiting for me on the other side of the black hole and as we kiss the bad dream of loneliness creates a new sun with amazing colorful flowers. Our dream of love comes true.
The Art of Loneliness
