An Hour in the Mind of an Artist

By: Camila Vásconez

All technology does is give you answers, while art poses all the questions that might forever be unanswerable. Whether I am a freak of nature or a theorizer and mystical anarchist, I still do not know. What I do know is that I find the transfer of every thought and trait of an artist onto paper or canvas, one of the most pleasurable and reassuring things in life.

Art is the sight of a woman opening her eyes for the very first time: is it fascination and immense pleasure, or a repudiating magnetism and taunting truth? Everything is displayed before her, all at once. She is able to feel every movement, threatening her very ability to distinguish reality from illusion; every sound carrying a delicate passion that dances through her body; every texture and its creation of a world built from a disturbing perfection, and every sight embracing her existence in an altered dimension. All of these aspects come to live and make their way into the subconscious mind, undisputed. What is clear to one is absent for another. What is beautiful to one will be dull for many others. What is true to me, for someone else, will never be.

I encompass both a need and a desire to see, hear, and feel the art of others, and my own. I find the greatest joy in creating when I am certain something I truly believe in or support will be challenged. One of my guilty pleasures: pushing boundaries and going places where people will be able to think differently than I do. This way I am able to determine if my ideals are firm and passionate enough to make a difference. I come from a place that still holds conservative traditions very close. Different is not, in any way, seen as normal and acceptance is far from the reach of society thus far. This is the reason why, through art, I want others to be able to understand and not only tolerate, but accept diversity. I am liberal; nevertheless, I have respect for dissimilar perspectives. I enjoy challenges, and I often seize the ones presented to me. When I do what I love I do not care about the risk I am taking in assuming these challenges, for I know if I succeed, my satisfaction and sense of accomplishment will be worth it. I like to test myself and decide to get out of my comfort zone, and do what could become a strict win or loss.

I question the now, analyze the past, and wonder about the future. From that trail of thought another question comes to mind: how do I fit in or perhaps would have fit in on a different time? I admire the history of art, and often daydream of being part of different forms of art and their respective movements. Because of this constant questioning, I sometimes find myself in-between a theoretical clash with society.

As a child, I sought refuge in art. I carried a simple, yet exciting life, but nonetheless, everything seemed brighter and more mesmerizing when I let my hands go, as my imagination took a hold of me and my decisions. I have always thought art had the utmost power to destroy or save someone entirely. However, to me, that destruction comes with a beautiful burden: the burden of the artist behind its piece; his story. Every stroke will transmit a portion of the artist’s soul and vision, a portion that might never be clear to us, but will later become part of us as well. The art someone creates carries their own burdens: some lovely, elegant and innocent, as others, which portray darkness and negativity as well.

Art: such a foolishly fervent obsession.

2 Responses to “An Hour in the Mind of an Artist”

  1. elbarriostaff

    While I read your article I could see myself discovering a world which is unknown to most people; a world where beauty is not depicted through visions, but through feelings. Every word you use attains to represent art as a way of survival and expression. 🙂

    maria clara


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