MY LOVE FOR…

Why do I paint?

It’s not a choice. It’s a need. It’s an addiction. It’s my drug. I fantasize about it all day long. I get aroused by the thought of it.

The world only makes sense to me when I’m lost in the process of creating. I have so much rage inside. So much that needs to be said. If I don’t let it out through my art, it eats me alive.

I paint for me. If I cared what you thought, the art wouldn’t already exist. I’m chasing that thing that captivates the world. Whether I ever uncover it or not isn’t up to me. I just keep painting.

Maybe all these paintings are confessions to myself. Maybe this is one long therapy session, and at the end of it I’ll throw every canvas into a pit and set fire to them all.

I want to see the world burn while watching it sprout flowers. That’s the conflict inside me.