Artwork Essay Novels & Stories

Lara twisted her lips in disdain. “Mine too” Kim rolled her eyes. “I had to outsource all my lab records.” Steve confessed since everyone was being honest. “Art is not about drawing beautifully or creating something everyone likes. Creating art that everyone appreciates is the forte of an artist. Art is a state of mind, it's an act of releasing emotions, it's beauty comes from the eyes of the beholder.” Dana explained passionately.

Each painting becomes a testament to the human spirit, a reminder that beauty and resilience can be found in the most unexpected places. And as I reflect on the transformative power of art, I am reminded that it is not limited to the canvas. It resides within each of us, waiting to be awakened and shared. For art has the ability to transcend boundaries, ignite passions, and create a more compassionate and interconnected world. It is a universal language that speaks to the depths of our souls, reminding us of our shared humanity and the limitless possibilities that lie within.

Abstracts that shallow people probably wouldn't get the meaning at first glance. These exhibits are the emotional translator of the sorrow, joy and agony of those who painted these, giving me a hint of stories inside their heads. They're so insightful and calming. Most of them are not that pretty, because the main intention of art isn't really to look pretty, but to make you feel something. And right at this moment, I feel different kinds of things. Mostly produced by this handsome specimen next to me. A couple of watchful gaze together at these wonderful exhibits makes me almost mistaken Sebastian as an art himself.

"I'll think about it." "He’ll go," Claire whispered to Evelyn, winking. "He just needs to pretend it was his idea." Arthur rolled his eyes but didn't let go of Evelyn’s hand. He looked at the painting again, noticing the small highlights she had added to the bark. For the first time, he didn't see the art as a hobby or a distraction. He saw it as a record—a proof of life that was happening right in front of him. "The blue is nice," Arthur said.

"Two years. It's in my office. Some days it's the best thing in the room." "Nadia would love to hear that." "Does she know her work does that to people?" "She knows. She pretends she doesn't because she thinks it'll jinx it." He smiled. It rearranged his whole face, that smile. Made him look younger, less composed and more like a real person. We talked for a while about art the way I rarely got to talk about it outside of work, not the commercial conversation about value and investment but the actual thing underneath, what it did to a room, what it did to a person standing in front of something that was made specifically to be felt.