The Making of a Masterpiece

High walls and higher expectations
Conversations in ones and zeros
Obligations, time constraints, busy busy run run run
But art grows slowly and then explodes
Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.

Peering over the top of a laptop screen
This security blanket of information, of “connection”
We observe the world around us
Bystanders in our own lives
Better to watch someone else live and learn than feel the ups and downs of our own limited existence
Because tuning into fictional lives means we get to live a thousand times
I’m not saying story doesn’t matter
I’m just asking what the moral of these stories are.

We follow celebrities, but we don’t go anywhere
We watch television, but we never see
We digest a news feed, but are never satisfied
This is my generation.
But art grows slowly and then explodes
Feeding the soul, opening the eyes, clearing paths and possibilities
Heart and soul, pouring, filling, swelling projects and creations
True art costs the artist
And one’s masterpiece requires one’s lifeblood.

Singer, if you sing, sing your story, sing from the depths, sing what matters.
Timid songs of love never won a heart.
Painter, if you paint, paint your vision, paint new colors and new worlds.
Immortalize the moments that we would otherwise miss.
Architect, if you build, build with intention; with loving hands construct a picture of paradise.
We have enough warehouses and big nondescript boxes, so give us a monument, give us functional beauty.

Vulnerability is the key
Unlocking the world beyond what we see
Playing at community, hiding in cold digital connections
But flesh and blood make art.
True art costs the artist
And one’s masterpiece requires one’s lifeblood.

And what Artist wouldn’t give His lifeblood to see His masterpiece fulfilled?

Courtney FaderComment