Simple Bliss of making artEVERYTHING I make is My work Not anyone elses.I make it and build it in my mind. It's my creativity thatsurrounds the art. It's my Feelings that go in the clayand rub off onto the paint. The simple bliss of makingthat expression on your own work. Can bring someoneback to a memory or desire. The patients of buliding adrawing, sculpture, or a simple painting. Is alot. Feelingis what goes into the work. Without that you can'thonestly make a great piece of art. Boredomis never an issue. It's not in my vocabularywhen i assemble something.The merethought of coming home and knowingI'll be creating something is enough to make meleap into the air and spin with complete Zeal.Without Art I'd be nothing. Without Clay i'mworthless on earth. Art to me is expressingone's self to another.Without that how can we show the way we are without writing or speaking the words ourselves?
It was just a date till now 9/11 was just a date that had no meaning to anyone. Sure it could've been a person's birthday, bought a CD, or first time driving. But that doesn't matter to anyone. September eleventh was just a word to everyone. It had no meaning to us. It didn't make us choke or have a spark in our brains that said "Oh god." 9/11/2001 was a day I went to school without question. I was only eight and I was in 3rd grade. My day was running smoothly and nothing was of concern to me. Peaking outside the door of the room I saw my teacher talking to a man. I didn't know why he was there or who he was. I figured he was talking to her over some teacher stuff. Her face went shocked for a brief moment and I didn't question it to much. I sat back down. For the whole day each teacher i saw had some sort of shocked face. It was really bothering me what was going on here! Why weren't they telling us anything! We had a right to know right? Course i look back now and
Poster child of woe"Hello is someone there?" shouted a girl unfamiliar with the woods around her. She brushed the tree trunk slightly but jumped at the breeze. Her heart pounded loudly against her and oooohhh how i wanted to kill her then. She wasn't a slender being nor a fit one but she was something that could satisfy my stomach. I moved a bit feeling the fern grace my mouth as I bared my teeth. She lied in an opening with a fallen tree by her and about 6 feet away were ferns and tall trees around. She couldn't see me or at least I thought so. Her back was aching. i knew this from the hand holding her back up and her face expression told all. It carried her agony depression above all her distress. I fed off that distress with an unrelenting drive. Something about this female made me stalk her. She was unremarkable except for the fact that she was in the woods and there for mine. Ah! She is a smart girl, or just plain lucky, for she has found the river that marks the end of my domain. If she was smart s