They say a picture is worth one thousand words. Or wait, is it ten thousand words? For the point of this, that would dramatically change things, so I Googled it for the absolute correct saying and the origin of what they were talking about to add more merit to my perspective of this piece. Coz you know, my perspective is completely measured in authenticity by highly ranked Google sites. *rolls eyes at the Lisa Simpson in me who is a complete know-it-all* (Also, between you and me I really need this website to get good SEO or whatever they call it so I can start selling my art and paying my rent. You can donate to my artist-with-a-roof-over-her-head-fund here and you'll get some artwork in return - win win!).
Anyway, in my procrasti-googling, it turns out that no one really knows the origin of the saying anyway - it was a bit of a mix of different ideas that came together somehow for the saying. So Google pretty much confirmed what I already know: None of us really know much about anything, it’s just about the way we see the collection of ideas and how we form our perspective that counts... And that we probably want to measure it somehow. AND that pictures are good. Infact, worth more than words if you’re the measuring type.
So it got me thinking about how we colour our lives with words. We paint pictures of big dreams and lay foundations of promises with our words. These words make up entire perceptions of people and situations. Words become the truth. Words become what we believe in. The way we use them can get us into trouble and then all the way back out again. Just a few words can actually change the way the picture looks and give us a sense of freedom. Or confusion. Or a sense of control. Words can liberate or condemn. And despite being told only sticks and stones can break our bones, we all know that words can cut deeper that the sharpest knife and sting harder than the Queen Bee. What incredible power words hold.
So with this idea of pictures being worth more than words (if you’re measuring) I got to thinking about my Facebook and Instagram feeds and the story they are telling (conveniently ignoring the cringe-worthy drunk snap stories that mar the ‘brand’ I’ve been building with carefully articulated quotes, music samples and poetry (which incidentally no one “likes” as much as a selfie anyway GO FIGURE). Like, you know how there's that insta-feed with beautifully themed images where even the breakfast posts evoke emotion in you because they're truly authentic in their expression... But then you see their Friday night snap-story and they're actually a dork dancing to 90’s music that appears nothing like the idea you’ve come to believe in and you’re like WOAH WHAT THE HELL MY WORLD JUST BROKE. Which always has me asking - which is the authentic part, the stylised image, the drunk behind the scenes or the art itself? Isn’t it all authentic? When did we decide to separate it all?
But, I digress.
It’s about now that I get impatient with all my thoughts and wish that these words would get me back to the point. Where was I again? Something about a lot of words saying more than pictures? Oh, no that’s right, pictures saying more than words. And to be specific, one picture in place of one thousand words. Yes, the saying. OK, I’m back. Phew, lucky I caught myself in that funny little tangent spin, we could have ended up somewhere very different than here. Maybe we have. Depends on where you consider here is, I guess. (Welcome to my mind).
So, um... Mandalas.
This is a segway. The part that leads us from too many words and chaos into the calming rhythm of mandalas: the circular, symmetrical designs that represent the never ending cycle of the Universe and the reflections of your subconscious... Welcome to the bridge paragraph that explains why this post is even relevant to the website you’re on, ‘cause this is a website about Mandalas, right?
Or is it?
Annnd there it is, the voice that questions perception. The voice of my Muse. The curious, little thought who keeps me on my toes, constantly shape-shifting to evade the spotlight. Always leading me into the shadows and enticing me a little further and deeper, into the unknown. She’s always turning up in a new costume so sometimes I don’t recognise her, or she’s singing a different tune or decides to appear in a different show. And there’s the times when she doesn’t even turn up to the show - she’s got a bottle of whiskey, cigarettes and a broken heart bleeding through the paint brush or guitar strings. And the truth is, I can’t always tell if the Muse is the one who likes the chase or if it’s me...
But this is why we’re here. The chase and the escape, the lost and the found, the wild and the captured, the dark and the light... I accidently wandered right into the home of the Muse in 2015 when I took a year off the elaborate stage show that had become my life. Leaving the performance, a record deal, a long term relationship, a successful fashion blog, my career and everything I believed to be true, I simply committed to less words. I needed a new picture.
So I picked up a pen and began to draw and suddenly found myself in the wings, completely unnoticed by The Muse. I took my time learning how to dance to her rhythm instead of trying to force her into mine. And that is when I realised exactly where I found myself... backstage to the real show.
So here we are. Inside the art of reality.
There’s plenty of Muses to go around.
Would you like to come backstage?
PS. This post is exactly 1000 words. Dork.
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