Kindness is better than religion, titles, possessions, better than anything money can buy. Kindness often has no name, no face, no address, because kindness is the love you can give to anyone, unconditionally. Kindness can give food and shelter disguised as charity, but its more than that. It’s much more, further and beyond guilt or duty, that’s for sure. Kindness is unpretentious, unexpected, true donation of humanity. It’s not a trade and certainly not a burden. It’s easy to get and give and in that way it’s wider than love itself. It’s not a present, not a stack of money, nor a bunch of dead flowers or a painted canvas. It is the priceless smile that is given and received with a silent hug of a million words. People who can wear the fellow man’s shoes and really understand how and why. Empathy causes kindness. Empathy is beauty beyond looks, words, things. Empathy and kindness could heal the world. We need more of it. Loads of it.
artist
making a living
I didn´t know how hard it would be. And yet rewarding…
This is no holliday. I need to make a living, pay my bills, take care of my son and to paint. 8 hours, 12 hours, 16 hours daily. With no promise of a salary in the end of the day, month, year. Only promises of new projects, new shows, new possibilities. So much hope inside. Meanwhile, on the outside, canvas growing wild in my bedroom, livingroom, everywhere around me. People come and go, they appreciate it and they say: I wish I had the means to buy one… (YOU DO!) …no, I have other priorities now. Of course, colorful naive images on the wall are not made for the busy, struggling, simple man. So I am the busy, struggling, simple woman that must consider a second or third job in order to make life happen too. My heart gets heavy; I worry about being completely absorved by this workingman day that some call job and leaving my soul behind on the paintings I´d never be able to paint. I have plenty of work, it´s just not providing [yet]. It´s like considering a sabbatical just before the big break. It´s like choosing between love and money as they would be inconcievable essencials, forbidden by destiny to be reached or recieved at the same time.
I feel trapped, but i´m not giving up. I feel lonely but not hopeless. Dreams of new paintings polulate my sleep and new, exciting images keep appearing before my eyes: that must be a sign.
Or I´m just really naive.
luciana mariano 