#poetry about art

[toriwritesstories]

Perfection Is A Myth

a poem by Shadowheart in And Into My Destiny, by ToriWritesStories.

Completion is the art of deciding – Which stroke finishes the mural, Which word ends the tale – A learned trick of the artist, Her true holy grail. Not so different is continuation, To find the right beat to skip, To determine the next cut to make, Every action deliberate, Though not without mistake. Because perfection is a myth, Not what the artist strives for, Not how the work can end, Only through the faults and flaws, Can the artist truly ascend.

[suffering-is-cute]

Remember the feeling of aching. Of wanting something to be done for you, my love.

Be the thing you harbour that desperate hope of finding, and you will draw your love ever closer to you. Study the love you have found and copy it in sketches, filling walls with your murals of it. Make them dream the same dreams, feel the same sickening things aching and buried within, every time they stare at the ceiling. Remind them that there is a sky beyond what they have seen and their breath seeks a refreshing air that they have yet to taste. Be the personification of longing.

Be the spirit of hope.

Be the source of a gentle, unerring question that asks if this is really all they want. Be the guidance towards a lighter heart and a softer love. Show them what you have learnt.

[chickrockguy]

“J. Carino’s ‘Beginnings and Endings’” by Isaiah Vianese, published in Divot

Based on the painting, “Beginnings and Endings” by J. Carino (also featured here).

[miss-saytr]

“Making art just for yourself has a deep, personal flavor and different meaning to it.”

As I was thinking of a low time in my life, I thought of this quote and picked up the pen and drew. Despite being a happier person, I do have my healthy sad moments. I’ve realized that a lot of my work I make for the intention, at least a little bit, to show to other people.

Don’t get me wrong, many artists have the intention to show their work to the world. It’s something that comes naturally for a lot of us. The need to share because we are social creatures overtakes us no matter if it’s to strangers or your only close friend. It’s just this quote made me think about making something for myself and myself only. Despite that, there’s always this thought in the back of my head going,

“What if an audience sees this?”

Is my vent art cliche? Cringey? Edgy? Bad? Something a young teenager would make? Something an older art critique png YouTuber would put in his awful art compilation? Something you could compare to Deviantart? Is it because that I’m Gen-Z so my vent art can not compare to older generations who drew about war, politics, and genocide? Is it only valid when the art is venting about something that affects a lot of people? Then is it something valid as commentary about world events, and not something very personal? Is it more valid painted with oil on canvas than it is digital with a trending art program?

And I think to myself, I know how the audience would react. If this vent art is about an existing character you can relate to, what will fans of that character and or series think? “It’s too edgy, it’s out of character, she would never do that, why her?” And if it’s your own self or own character, it’s too personal to have anyone care about it. “Who is that? Is that you? Do I need to call someone? Why do you look like that?”

What if I just feel like drawing something? What if it just comes to me? What if it’s my own self expression? I don’t need to think about an audience seeing this. My overthinking brain comes up with this scenario about how a large group of people will accidentally see it somehow. And I think that’s the main reason I barely make vent art at all. It adds to this weird urge to explain why I draw everything so someone doesn’t see it negatively or in a way I don’t want it to be seen.

So I took all my anxieties and future worries away and drew what I wanted.

And I felt stronger.

[lucidloving]

@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

[sorrcha]

benthic angel

was writing about lake sturgeon for a class assignment and showed one of my friends what i'd written.. he then sent part of it back to me with line breaks to turn it into a poem! i just had to draw something for it :]

poem text under the readmore:

lake sturgeon don't know that they're endangered. They don't know anything - other than the muck at the bottom of the water column and the occasional passing touch of another.

really touched by how my friend turned my technical writing into poetry. i haven't tried to write creatively in months, so it's nice to see i've still got it- and nicer still that i could get so inspired by my friend, since i haven't made nature art in a little while, either :>!!

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[solsticat]

around a year ago I had an incredibly realistic dream where I was hiking and stumbled off a cliff. I managed to grab into a ledge, but I was hyper aware that eventually I would lose hold of it and fall to my death. I just sat there holding the ledge for a while thinking about everything I was never able to do, the conversations I never had, and how badly I wanted to live. Eventually I came to terms with my untimely death and accepted that there was nothing I could change, and it wasn't really okay, but it would have to be okay, and I'd had a good life. If nothing else, I was glad for the life I had been able to have. I wanted my last thoughts to be peaceful. I was about ready to let go when my family came along and rescued me. Some other stuff happened after that. Then I woke up and let me tell you I had a Bad Day. How are you even supposed to act normal after that.

[flunkett]

reblog for wider reach id appreciate it

[starsmca]

metamorphosis

🌕

i got super inspired from an excerpt of @sweatermuppet 's poem 'two questions' and had to draw something for it

[demaparbat-hp]

Regarding the Cherry Wine Incident.

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

Excerpts from the works of Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish

[welcometogrouchland]

ANOTHER SKETCH DUMP! Featuring more of me playing with lineless art. Batman reborn era trio (dick, damian and steph) I miss you...when will you return from war. Also featuring Steph designs bc I've seen ppl dissatisfied w/ her current look, some good mom Talia, and Jason Todd poetry club. Duke is confused not that Jason would start a poetry club but that he'd have such mid poetry opinions. (ID in Alt)

[exactlyhow]

@sketiana on tumblr // Clementine Von Radics, James // Nicole Homer, Underbelly // unknown // Taylor Swift, You're On Your Own Kid // Speeches for Dr Frankenstein, Margaret Atwood // Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Lenore Mayhew and William Mcnaughton, from Poem Without A Hero and Selected Poems; “In a dream”

[natashaaromanova]

all's fair in l o v e and p o e t r y.