When I was little I asked a person: What's the meaning of beeing an artist? He didn't respond. I thought he ignored my question, because he was writing/drawing something. I pretended like I never asked him that question, untill he gave me a pice of paper with the words: Never ask that question again, because a true artist knows what it is.
I really was blowed away, but still had one question. How should I know if I'm a true artist? He smiled, because you are. Maybe you'll not realise it now, but when you'll get older you'll understand it.
This person is my mothers nephew an architect and professional photographer, who showed me the world of art since my first visit to Bosnia. I still remember his atelier, it was an old apartment on Bjelave in Sarajevo. The scars the war left on the building where still fresh, he didn't want to remove them. They are a sign of surviving he told us. I didn't get it ( I was 7 okay) but now it's obviously what he ment. He gave me and my sister paper and some of his pencils to draw. I drawed the house we were staying at or let's say I gave the house a make-over. He smiled when he saw my drawning and he hang it up on his wall. My mom told me later he said to her and my dad: an artist is born.
So the next visits to Bosnia he gave me pencils, notebooks (and yes, my little black book) as gifts and I loved beeing in this atelier. My drawning still hangs on his wall even if he moved to an other place. Last time he told me it gives him hope that he's leaving the world in good hands.
And now you're probably asking why I'm writing this stuff? Well, it's been days since I drawed, wrote or done anything that has to do with art. I feel like I lost it :( So I hope after writing this it will come back, it has to. Whitout it I'm not myself anymore.
With love,
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten