Mastery ends in simplicity. It’s how you perform the act that’s magic. How little you perform, in fact. Masters let go and let life art. Masters don’t stand in the way of life.
It seems so simple when a master performs—a dance, not a calculated sequence of actions. Divine. The master steps aside and life arts.
Mastery is demolishing the ego for God to paint through you. Art session by art session, you are a little less. You clean the glass, and it becomes clear for life to shine through. In each art session, there is a little less of you on the canvas.
To become authentic in art, it is not your ego that we are talking about. Authenticity is natural soul-expression. Where you tap into the flow of life, and you forget yourself for a moment. Flow, maybe. God, certainly.
When you are authentic, the little pity part of you is no more. You realise the ego constricts beauty. When you are no more, there is divinity on the canvas. How then can you claim you did anything? And yet you are hailed as a master. Curious a thing.
How life is so contradicting from the lens of personal identity, and yet unites in the perception of the whole in silence. How God is both one and many, how life is one being—one fractal birthing evolution. One dance of many. Philosophy.
You purge with each art session, until life is left. And you come alive. Who you truly are, that is. And that’s the spiritual work of the artist. The road to mastery, if you will. Dying to yourself by performing your work. Your spiritual discipline of making art. Non-making, non-doing. Karma Yog. The joga of action, non-action. Being. Silence.
Art is left.
A master doesn’t stand in the way of life.
So subconscious and such depth that the ego subsides, only intuitive action is left. Effortless flow. You collapse into your work; hence, you capture life, and your work comes alive. A living artist creates living work! Come alive and take us with you.
When divine art is witnessed, the extremely fortunate art enthusiast collapses into the art. Art is left. Where was I when I was looking at the sunset? I was the sunset.
That is how art heals the world. Heal yourself. Then, you may invoke something beautiful in others.
Your art is ugly until it becomes beautiful. Ugly art is meant for the artist alone—a healing tool. Only when the artist opens a window to God, and light shines through, does art become a healing modality for others.
It’s okay for your art to serve you alone. Until the scales tip and your art heals the world.
Words. Words that point to God. Direct perception of words. That’s the magic, you see?
Who writes words? Who reads them?
Being. Meditation. The pulse of life through the veins of a master onto the canvas.
Encapsulating life. A drink for the thirsty. Art heals self-expression, heals the corrupted self-identity and restores self-worth.
The road to mastery is hard and long, but what is your alternative? Art, nothing else.
Art or nothing.
To return home to God by your craft. That is your spiritual discipline. Where you dissolve into your work, and your work is left. It’s all that’s left. What is left?
A flame that burns through your art and lights hearts on fire. Such art is alive and imparts life to the ripe perceiver of the art as it is consumed alone. Alone.
Isn’t that art? Tell me.
A renaissance. Personal change and the wave of living artists, enlightening the world one piece of art at a time.
Art that explodes into your heart, changes your very being. For the moment, you witness and you let go. Scary. Without a choice. Falling. Will God take care of me?
And in that one divine moment, you are free.
You are the artist. You are the painting. You are That.
No more words are required.
You are
That is art. All other art is dead.
A living artist creates living art
It seems so simple when a master performs—a dance, not a calculated sequence of actions. Divine. The master steps aside and life arts.
Mastery is demolishing the ego for God to paint through you. Art session by art session, you are a little less. You clean the glass, and it becomes clear for life to shine through. In each art session, there is a little less of you on the canvas.
To become authentic in art, it is not your ego that we are talking about. Authenticity is natural soul-expression. Where you tap into the flow of life, and you forget yourself for a moment. Flow, maybe. God, certainly.
When you are authentic, the little pity part of you is no more. You realise the ego constricts beauty. When you are no more, there is divinity on the canvas. How then can you claim you did anything? And yet you are hailed as a master. Curious a thing.
How life is so contradicting from the lens of personal identity, and yet unites in the perception of the whole in silence. How God is both one and many, how life is one being—one fractal birthing evolution. One dance of many. Philosophy.
You purge with each art session, until life is left. And you come alive. Who you truly are, that is. And that’s the spiritual work of the artist. The road to mastery, if you will. Dying to yourself by performing your work. Your spiritual discipline of making art. Non-making, non-doing. Karma Yog. The joga of action, non-action. Being. Silence.
Art is left.
A master doesn’t stand in the way of life.
So subconscious and such depth that the ego subsides, only intuitive action is left. Effortless flow. You collapse into your work; hence, you capture life, and your work comes alive. A living artist creates living work! Come alive and take us with you.
When divine art is witnessed, the extremely fortunate art enthusiast collapses into the art. Art is left. Where was I when I was looking at the sunset? I was the sunset.
That is how art heals the world. Heal yourself. Then, you may invoke something beautiful in others.
Your art is ugly until it becomes beautiful. Ugly art is meant for the artist alone—a healing tool. Only when the artist opens a window to God, and light shines through, does art become a healing modality for others.
It’s okay for your art to serve you alone. Until the scales tip and your art heals the world.
Words. Words that point to God. Direct perception of words. That’s the magic, you see?
Who writes words? Who reads them?
Being. Meditation. The pulse of life through the veins of a master onto the canvas.
Encapsulating life. A drink for the thirsty. Art heals self-expression, heals the corrupted self-identity and restores self-worth.
The road to mastery is hard and long, but what is your alternative? Art, nothing else.
Art or nothing.
To return home to God by your craft. That is your spiritual discipline. Where you dissolve into your work, and your work is left. It’s all that’s left. What is left?
A flame that burns through your art and lights hearts on fire. Such art is alive and imparts life to the ripe perceiver of the art as it is consumed alone. Alone.
Isn’t that art? Tell me.
A renaissance. Personal change and the wave of living artists, enlightening the world one piece of art at a time.
Art that explodes into your heart, changes your very being. For the moment, you witness and you let go. Scary. Without a choice. Falling. Will God take care of me?
And in that one divine moment, you are free.
You are the artist. You are the painting. You are That.
No more words are required.
You are
That is art. All other art is dead.
A living artist creates living art