Why is it hard to make up a poem or a piece of writing that has some artistic validity? What is art anyway? Why seeking for art innovation if there’s no singularity in it? Sure. Art is never made by the hands of only one person. And this is what makes me love art. I love it because art is built to be called OURS. It’s a group effort of given ideas, a spectrum of shapes, colors, and different perspectives of human condition. It's a wholesome activity which demands efforts from its contemplators.
Mittwoch, Februar 14, 2007
Eu, eu mesmo
Sim, eu tenho face
Eu tenho nome
Eu tenho medos
Eu tenho fome
Sim, eu tenho ira
Eu tenho frieira
Eu tenho dentes do cizo
E eu tenho cera no ouvido
Sim, eu tenho amídalas
Eu tenho cravos
Eu tenho cólicas
Eu tenho pés chatos
Eu fedo
Eu bebo
Eu cuspo
Eu sujo
Eu assusto eu mesmo
...
by Laila Chris
Sonntag, Februar 11, 2007
On beauty of cultural differences
I do appreciate whatever life brings to the beauty realm. It is a simple fact to me that beauty lies in many things. I see beauty in toothless smiles. I see beauty in psycho-thriller movies soaked in fake blood. There's beauty in larvae. There's beauty in stormy weather. Each lightening bolt is a strike of plain beauty forces. I see beauty in wrinkled hands and hoarse voice. There's beauty in distinct skin color shades, unique beliefs, totems, sacred books, rituals, mantras, singular hairdos, spiritual leaders, body paintings... In short, beauty is constructed on cultural differences. I twist, squeeze, and extract the beauty of all political visions, art-making, languages, and images of all cultures on this humongous planet.
by Laila Chris
by Laila Chris
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