I have tried to imagine a world without art; Without drawings, paintings, sculptures, all art. I attempted to think of blandness and blah, but I failed. There can't possibly be existence, without beauty. Man made or natural, beauty is a work of art, and everything is beautiful. One only needs to open their eyes.
There once was a time when I could not appreciate the true energy, beauty of life. Drawing and painting were my mediocre skills, more of a hobby really, something I could do better than most. I vainly saw how some things were pretty, but not everything. I was staring at the wall of Plato's cave. As if, before my artistic awakening, I was looking at the world through grey sunglasses. When they lifted, all colors seemed vibrant and wonderful, instilling joy in my heart and soul. Every scene, from the most luscious valley, to the most polluted industrial park, became fantastic and exhilarating. Creating in me the desire to record it all, share the beauty with everyone.
Since then I have become mesmerized by a single triangle of light, playing across the cheek of a friend, as she slowly looked about. I've lost myself in contemplation, regarding the beauty of a pile of garbage and an ink splatter; Both a unique and completely random occurrence, The ink, and the garbage will never take on that exact form again. Stunning little things draw attention, and become masterpieces.
I can't live appreciating the wonder of life, without at least attempting to recreate some portion of it grandeur; To capture the essence of beauty through line and color. To communicate through a primal expulsion of emotion, raw and refined simultaneously, life, love, wonder, and truth.
Every blade of grass, every misquito, every perfectly square house, every human being, is an amazing piece of art. If the world were nothing but a single flat plane, stretching onward for eternity, then I would be content; A witness to never-ending splendor. I have tried to Imagine a world without art. I failed.