my art is like my baby. i spend days and days, sometimes even weeks perfecting it, sculpting it, painting it, giving it a soul.
my art comes from within me. it is inspired and born from a spark that has a meaning to me. it conveys a message that i want to tell the world, but in its own, very special way. i know. i made it. i designed it. i create every illusion. i ensure that only those who look beyond its polished finish and into its artistic fiber, those who prove themselve worthy of its spark, understands.
in building my piece, i have laughed with it, cried with it, and on some pieces, spend many a sleepless nights with it in my thoughts. all of this is captured in my art pieces. they mean a lot to me. they are pieces of me.
sometimes, i am told to modify my pieces. i can accept criticisms and suggestions for improvements are always welcomed. it makes me proud that people who understand my art share a vision for its message, its meaning, and its soul.
as i have mentioned, it means a lot to me.
so you can imagine my frustration yesterday when i discovered that someone has taken my piece and altered it beyond its thematic vision. suggestions, i can consider. criticisms, i can take. but blatant modification which takes apart the soul of the piece, i cannot.
this morning, i tore the whole thing apart. i don’t care if i do piss the exhibitors of my work. i refuse to have my name attached to a piece which isn’t mine in soul. my art is not simply something i cook up so it looks pretty and if that is what some people want to turn it into, then i’d rather take my pieces over to someone else who appreciates its depth.