I have grown to appreciate the feeling of being out somewhere, even if it's only briefly, and having such a strong desire to get back home and into the studio amongst my canvas, paint and ever flowing stream of ideas. It reminds me just how wonderful and fortunate it is for me to possess such a desire. To have such a strong passion for something that I yearn for it.
I speak to so many people who are so lackluster and tell me they have no real passion in their lives, some even admit to having no real direction. I have been told numerous times how lucky I am to have known what I wanted to do and pursue from such an early age. I guess I have, at times, taken this for granted but when I do look back, it really is what I was always passionate about and what I always wanted to pursue, without a doubt.
My art is one thing I can truly call my own. It is something that I conceive, something I give birth to. It is something I have to feed and it is what feeds me. It is what I look forward to. It is all this and more. It is my passion, my life. My art gives me a greater sense of purpose and without it I would feel lost. It is a necessity and I am grateful to feel this way.