music, way of life, dance, theater, God, fun, everything, painting, life, home, school , friends, world, birds, nature, love
Marina
Ars longa, vida briefa. I have indeed forgotten the proper Latin translation of that quote, but it is indeed true. I would like a cigarette and some whiskey to keep writing
The splash of colours adorn the pallet and white canvas just as it adorn the multitudinous glass windows that stream constant sunlight into the room. Small rainbows abound and reflect off the floors and corners and walls, making the room festive and cheerful.
And in the corner sits a lonely boy, dull and grey. If only he could reach the colours. If only he could see.
He had always been fond of the arts. Music was his outlet for all his emotions, the place he turned to when everything got be too much. When his friends couldn’t be around, when his father was – as he always was – away on business, he could always turn to music. His cello was his everything.
the arts are what keep us alive when we’re
sinking
beneath whatever life throws at us
we can dive into our music or drawing and just
be something.
concentrate on something other than life for no good reason.
He was fond of the arts. It was his outlet for his emotions – the one place he could go when everything got to be too much, when he had nowhere else to turn. When his friends weren’t around, when his father was – as he always was – away on business, he could always count on his music.
Makenzie
The arts are something I’ve always been interested in. First it was visual arts, then photography, and now drama. Drama has become something special. I’ve created a family out of it. I can’t wait to see the faces of this beloved family every evening. I love making lists, schedules, sorting things out, talking to people, being in with the theatre crowd. I belong. And I know it.
Arts need to stick together. Work together. Survive together. Don’t let it slip away, collaborate. Keep thinking, keep feeling, keep creating. Stay awesome.
Arts are not a topic I am well versed in. I know little, have little to add. It is, unfortunately, on of the most important topics to know… I guess ceramics class is helpful.
NF4awesome
sometimes i just want the arts to disappear.
they convey too much
they mean too much.
but they mean nothing at all.
they display only what we want displayed,
the original bias,
the original sin,
i wish we could be naked in the garden and relish in its nudity.
my art is not naked.
is yours?
the paintings. the benches. the coffee. the laughing children. the struggling artists. the museum of modern art, new york city, one of the only places i feel truly at home.
emily
her feet dancing was like a painter paints: swift, smooth, delicate. she was beautiful on stage, but everywhere else she was sad, black inside.
He wanted to go into the arts more than his brother wanted to become a pilot. This was his dream, something he had thought about since his first work was displayed during the town meeting in fifth grade. Nothing up to this point in his life was worth bragging about until now. He finally had made it.
Mason
The question I pose to you is this:
What are we, without art?
If one were to observe a culture, a community without art, would we call them human?
You’ll find it in all corners of the world.
Spontaneously occurring.
Art.
It’s our natural state.
the arts.
my hearts.
simple, burning pure, what the fuck am I writing?
do i think this is art?
do i think this is smart?
no.
shit no.
this is a crappy poem, disguised as something important.
what’s important anyway?
if i were to write about the arts, i’d probably include big words, big hair, big nair,
what?
this is strange.
who writes poems about the arts, anyway?
Mrs. Forrester
He had never liked the arts, not until he found her. With her by his side, suddenly the world seemed awash in color. His typical mundane life, became, in itself a splash of art; color dashed across the page.
one word can change your entire life. it can tear apart families or it can build them up. ive heard one word before and it has made me cry, smile, faint, and want to punch people in the face. it is so hard to believe how far people build themselves up to have one word tear them down to rock bottom.
Alex
i have forgotten what “art” is
i have lost poetry, lost language entirely
i burnt it all as an offering to the god of lost souls
Em
She had never liked the arts. It was always too dull for her mind. She was just capable of so much more, things painting and crafting couldn’t give her. She had emotions like artsy people, she cried alot. The kids at school told her she looked better when she cried than when she laughed. She liked that.
Use your arts to capture it. Arts of the eyes, irises, pupils like black holes that pull you in….give it your best shot because tomorrow they’ll be gone like dandelions in the wind over Greece.
i love the arts, they are important in everyones everyday life. they are a form of expression, an escape. a place for people to feel home and safe. for me i could not survive without music or theatre. my favorite bands and movies have saved my life
jacqui
I don’t what the big fuss about arts is. People can’t even define it, and excuse me but I liked things to be defined. This is this, and that is that. The world would be much simpler if everything was black and white. Its the arts that bring the greys into the matter.
Lilly Smith: a multi-talented, multi-media master of the arts. She could sketch, write, dance, make complex commentaries on social injustice out of macaroni. Art critics deemed her work innovative and inspiring; “academics” respectfully averted their gaze.
She died while splattering paint over images she had collaged onto her body. A sudden stroke — brushstroke, that is — stained her brain with cerebral hemorrhage. The mortician peeled off some of her skin while trying to remove the collage, so he left it on. Some attendees of her funeral thought the ceremony was a performance piece. They swore they heard singing from her coffin as it was lowered into the gave.
useless pursuit of self
definitions, explanations are true craft
curiosity is best fulfilled
externally
Genevieve
It always begins with a smile. a bit of paint on the nose, a freckled grin in the right direction. we spun the clay together, not Ghost style but side by side, and I realized what I wanted right then. Maybe everyone would hate me for leaving him, but I wanted her bad enough to take that risk. Right there in that art class.
Involuntarily I’ve offered my skin to be your canvas.
Your brush strokes tickle, a combination of the cold pain and the bristles on my nakedness.
It is funny.
The more you paint over the blankness that is there,
The more I appear on the canvas I had planned to use, the blank fabric stretched tightly over a wooden frame.
I fill up the space, blending in with my background,
watching you bring me to life, I dance with colors, mixtures, shadow, and depth.
I am frozen in this canvas and alive at the same time.
Were it my own brush strokes that trapped me in and yet brought me out at the same time I would not mind.
and crafts and all that silly old stuff full of fluff with puppies and pooches and big two year old with loose thoothes :) we giggle and we write, we write and we fight, we type and we type each and every night! … Now that’s ART!
Jan
Arts, buildings. Everything. Arts and art in general is something that simply is what make the world go and go and go. A society full of artisans is a society full of happiness. Happiness is good, and therefore, arts are good. Arts are good for a great many reason more but…..this is one of them.
Rick
Arts…well, I always wanted to be a artist when I was a youngster. Sadly, my dream was covered by blanket of lost hope and missed chances. I never really had the opportunity to show my true potential, and I still don’t even now in theatre. I don’t know where I am exactly in the artistic world. But I hope to find out soon.
“The arts.” What are “the arts?” Is it meant to be something in particular because it’s plural? Because it’s plural, does it mean painting, sculpture, opera, etc.? But isn’t art anything beautiful? It’s in the eyes of the beholder, eh? What about that person with a scruffy beard sitting in the corner of a crowded coffee shop reading Joyce? He is my art.
Kristin
you see, you create and there are so many things in between. grey layers. fascination. perspective. and you meet people observing the strangers, in grocery stores. shouldn’t they worry about their bag of vegetables? they cannot be bothered. it’s an excuse. people are art. art is everywhere. it is even in the most ugly things ever.
wkeo
I already wrote about the arts. Twice. Both times I didn’t actually tell the truth about art. Some of it is amazing and some of it is crap. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Something may be crap to one person and to another amazing. Its how you connect
I don’t like to talk about art. Art is pretentious. Not just art but people who like art. People who go to art shows and play in a band or even just paint occasionally. It’s like they think they are better than everyone. Some people don’t even need to have talent.
Robin
artsy fartsy Anna
doesn’t like her English teacher
she would rather
drink tea than explain
someone else’s opinion
in a
well
formed
paragraph
More arts? I was excited to write about a whole new topic, but I guess I should be less picky. This site is all about being a better writer. Just using what is given to you and just going with it. I enjoy it. It almost keeps me on my toes. This site is way too tense for me. I always freak out and write about stupid stuff XD
the thing about arts is that they are not hoity toity rich people who sip champagne and patronize the arts are livingbreathingworkand passion when someone says the “arts” then my mind races to expensive cocktail parties and patronage i wish when i heard the word arts I would see glorious color, hear brilliant music, taste culinary fabulousness, witness to the fervor and explosition of creativity in humanity.
music, way of life, dance, theater, God, fun, everything, painting, life, home, school , friends, world, birds, nature, love
Ars longa, vida briefa. I have indeed forgotten the proper Latin translation of that quote, but it is indeed true. I would like a cigarette and some whiskey to keep writing
The splash of colours adorn the pallet and white canvas just as it adorn the multitudinous glass windows that stream constant sunlight into the room. Small rainbows abound and reflect off the floors and corners and walls, making the room festive and cheerful.
And in the corner sits a lonely boy, dull and grey. If only he could reach the colours. If only he could see.
He had always been fond of the arts. Music was his outlet for all his emotions, the place he turned to when everything got be too much. When his friends couldn’t be around, when his father was – as he always was – away on business, he could always turn to music. His cello was his everything.
the arts are what keep us alive when we’re
sinking
beneath whatever life throws at us
we can dive into our music or drawing and just
be something.
concentrate on something other than life for no good reason.
He was fond of the arts. It was his outlet for his emotions – the one place he could go when everything got to be too much, when he had nowhere else to turn. When his friends weren’t around, when his father was – as he always was – away on business, he could always count on his music.
The arts are something I’ve always been interested in. First it was visual arts, then photography, and now drama. Drama has become something special. I’ve created a family out of it. I can’t wait to see the faces of this beloved family every evening. I love making lists, schedules, sorting things out, talking to people, being in with the theatre crowd. I belong. And I know it.
Arts need to stick together. Work together. Survive together. Don’t let it slip away, collaborate. Keep thinking, keep feeling, keep creating. Stay awesome.
Arts are not a topic I am well versed in. I know little, have little to add. It is, unfortunately, on of the most important topics to know… I guess ceramics class is helpful.
sometimes i just want the arts to disappear.
they convey too much
they mean too much.
but they mean nothing at all.
they display only what we want displayed,
the original bias,
the original sin,
i wish we could be naked in the garden and relish in its nudity.
my art is not naked.
is yours?
the paintings. the benches. the coffee. the laughing children. the struggling artists. the museum of modern art, new york city, one of the only places i feel truly at home.
her feet dancing was like a painter paints: swift, smooth, delicate. she was beautiful on stage, but everywhere else she was sad, black inside.
He wanted to go into the arts more than his brother wanted to become a pilot. This was his dream, something he had thought about since his first work was displayed during the town meeting in fifth grade. Nothing up to this point in his life was worth bragging about until now. He finally had made it.
The question I pose to you is this:
What are we, without art?
If one were to observe a culture, a community without art, would we call them human?
You’ll find it in all corners of the world.
Spontaneously occurring.
Art.
It’s our natural state.
the arts.
my hearts.
simple, burning pure, what the fuck am I writing?
do i think this is art?
do i think this is smart?
no.
shit no.
this is a crappy poem, disguised as something important.
what’s important anyway?
if i were to write about the arts, i’d probably include big words, big hair, big nair,
what?
this is strange.
who writes poems about the arts, anyway?
He had never liked the arts, not until he found her. With her by his side, suddenly the world seemed awash in color. His typical mundane life, became, in itself a splash of art; color dashed across the page.
When will the world realize that the arts is not a genre, subject or category, it is a way of living. And a darn better way of living at that.
one word can change your entire life. it can tear apart families or it can build them up. ive heard one word before and it has made me cry, smile, faint, and want to punch people in the face. it is so hard to believe how far people build themselves up to have one word tear them down to rock bottom.
i have forgotten what “art” is
i have lost poetry, lost language entirely
i burnt it all as an offering to the god of lost souls
She had never liked the arts. It was always too dull for her mind. She was just capable of so much more, things painting and crafting couldn’t give her. She had emotions like artsy people, she cried alot. The kids at school told her she looked better when she cried than when she laughed. She liked that.
Use your arts to capture it. Arts of the eyes, irises, pupils like black holes that pull you in….give it your best shot because tomorrow they’ll be gone like dandelions in the wind over Greece.
“Tobias can I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
“When we open a school of witchcraft and wizardry, no.”
“Why nooooooooottttttttttttttttttttttt?”
“You’re like a magnet for the dark arts. Every time anything dangerous has ever attacked the two of us it’s been entirely your fault.”
“WOW THAT IS SUCH A GENERALIZATION AND ALSO WRONG.”
“Name one time, Astor.”
“I need a minute BUT YOU BETTER BET YOUR FANCY SHOES THAT I WILL COME UP WITH SOMETHING YOU OLD FOGEY.”
i love the arts, they are important in everyones everyday life. they are a form of expression, an escape. a place for people to feel home and safe. for me i could not survive without music or theatre. my favorite bands and movies have saved my life
I don’t what the big fuss about arts is. People can’t even define it, and excuse me but I liked things to be defined. This is this, and that is that. The world would be much simpler if everything was black and white. Its the arts that bring the greys into the matter.
The arts her, favorite thing about the world. She lived it she breathed it. She was it.
Lilly Smith: a multi-talented, multi-media master of the arts. She could sketch, write, dance, make complex commentaries on social injustice out of macaroni. Art critics deemed her work innovative and inspiring; “academics” respectfully averted their gaze.
She died while splattering paint over images she had collaged onto her body. A sudden stroke — brushstroke, that is — stained her brain with cerebral hemorrhage. The mortician peeled off some of her skin while trying to remove the collage, so he left it on. Some attendees of her funeral thought the ceremony was a performance piece. They swore they heard singing from her coffin as it was lowered into the gave.
useless pursuit of self
definitions, explanations are true craft
curiosity is best fulfilled
externally
It always begins with a smile. a bit of paint on the nose, a freckled grin in the right direction. we spun the clay together, not Ghost style but side by side, and I realized what I wanted right then. Maybe everyone would hate me for leaving him, but I wanted her bad enough to take that risk. Right there in that art class.
Involuntarily I’ve offered my skin to be your canvas.
Your brush strokes tickle, a combination of the cold pain and the bristles on my nakedness.
It is funny.
The more you paint over the blankness that is there,
The more I appear on the canvas I had planned to use, the blank fabric stretched tightly over a wooden frame.
I fill up the space, blending in with my background,
watching you bring me to life, I dance with colors, mixtures, shadow, and depth.
I am frozen in this canvas and alive at the same time.
Were it my own brush strokes that trapped me in and yet brought me out at the same time I would not mind.
Without your brushstrokes,
I know not what I am,
Nor where.
and crafts and all that silly old stuff full of fluff with puppies and pooches and big two year old with loose thoothes :) we giggle and we write, we write and we fight, we type and we type each and every night! … Now that’s ART!
Arts, buildings. Everything. Arts and art in general is something that simply is what make the world go and go and go. A society full of artisans is a society full of happiness. Happiness is good, and therefore, arts are good. Arts are good for a great many reason more but…..this is one of them.
Arts…well, I always wanted to be a artist when I was a youngster. Sadly, my dream was covered by blanket of lost hope and missed chances. I never really had the opportunity to show my true potential, and I still don’t even now in theatre. I don’t know where I am exactly in the artistic world. But I hope to find out soon.
“The arts.” What are “the arts?” Is it meant to be something in particular because it’s plural? Because it’s plural, does it mean painting, sculpture, opera, etc.? But isn’t art anything beautiful? It’s in the eyes of the beholder, eh? What about that person with a scruffy beard sitting in the corner of a crowded coffee shop reading Joyce? He is my art.
you see, you create and there are so many things in between. grey layers. fascination. perspective. and you meet people observing the strangers, in grocery stores. shouldn’t they worry about their bag of vegetables? they cannot be bothered. it’s an excuse. people are art. art is everywhere. it is even in the most ugly things ever.
I already wrote about the arts. Twice. Both times I didn’t actually tell the truth about art. Some of it is amazing and some of it is crap. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Something may be crap to one person and to another amazing. Its how you connect
I don’t like to talk about art. Art is pretentious. Not just art but people who like art. People who go to art shows and play in a band or even just paint occasionally. It’s like they think they are better than everyone. Some people don’t even need to have talent.
artsy fartsy Anna
doesn’t like her English teacher
she would rather
drink tea than explain
someone else’s opinion
in a
well
formed
paragraph
More arts? I was excited to write about a whole new topic, but I guess I should be less picky. This site is all about being a better writer. Just using what is given to you and just going with it. I enjoy it. It almost keeps me on my toes. This site is way too tense for me. I always freak out and write about stupid stuff XD
A poem a day
is art withered a word’s way
to see what’s not there.
the thing about arts is that they are not hoity toity rich people who sip champagne and patronize the arts are livingbreathingworkand passion when someone says the “arts” then my mind races to expensive cocktail parties and patronage i wish when i heard the word arts I would see glorious color, hear brilliant music, taste culinary fabulousness, witness to the fervor and explosition of creativity in humanity.