The Artist

Image

Umetnik

Pre zavrsnog poteza,on je odustao.

Slomio je kicicu I bacio je na pod,

Bojama je uflekao zidove,

zapalio platno.

Nije verovao u sebe

i u svoje ruke koje su ga euforiji vodile,

nije verovao svojim ocima,

jer cesto su ga varale,

remek delo postalo je nakaza,

jos jedan poen za odustajanje

i zgariste nade….

Ali jednoga dana neko ce izdrzati do kraja.

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~ by Oloriel on April 30, 2013.

22 Responses to “The Artist”

  1. Dočaran ego svakog umetnika. Nebitno šta držao u ruci, kičicu, tastaturu ili mikrofon. Moja severnjakinja ima običaj da kaže “kill the artist and sell the paintings”, asocirajući na neverovatnu postmortal popularnost.

    • Uvek nas ljudi bolje chuju kad smo mrtvi.
      Ovo je inache ressurect iz koliko se secam 2004-2005te, a nekako u njoj samo mogu da nadjem josh vishe i vishe nekih kazivanja, osim samokritike kako je tada bila zamishljena.

  2. Takav je stvaralački proces – pun dilema, nesigurnosti, preispitivanja i vrlo često osećanja sumnje u sebe, besmisla i očaja. Baš kao i sam život, jer i on je naša kreacija.
    Dobra pesma!

    • Hvala puno na komentaru! Tachno je da se sa ovime maltene susrecemo svaki dan, cak i kad nismo umetnici, nekad nam se zamrachi i ne mozemo da vidimo lepotu u onome sto smo stvorili od samih sebe.

  3. Ne mogu sada tačno da se setim o kom slikaru se radi, ali kažu da je večito nešto dodavao i prepravljao na svojim slikama koje su se ”smirile” tek kada je umro. (Ili kada bi ih prodao…)
    Odličan post.

  4. Кажу психоаналитичари да је стваралаштво у снази спуштања у провокативне и надахнујуће амбисе несвсеног. И хитрог повратака у ЕГО.
    У противном, почиње прича о граници између лудила и генијалности…
    Поздрав.

    • Hvala puno na poseti i komentaru.
      Nekada je tu granicu teshko razluchiti, dok otkucaj srca stvarnog sveta sve skrembluje svakog trenutka, metamorfzira u neshto drugo.

  5. Ne bih znao nista o stvaralackom procesu. Odustajanje… to je vec druga stvar.

  6. traganje za nacinom iskazivanja sebe je sam za sebe proces, a kad se krene za iskazivanjem kroz umetnicko stvaranje onda je to jos zamagljeniji put. Porivi postoje , dubine neke mame a granice dokle se moze su mutne, nekada se zaroni a nekada odustane i na dobroj dubini. Ali ako poriv postoji onda se uzme dah pa krene dalje.

    • Ponekad se desi da shvatish da si ustvari riba koja se popela na drvo misleci i cvrsto verujuci da je macka. Popnesh se,al onda se zazelish vode i bez obzira na uspeh osecash da momentalno morash da sidjesh.

  7. Useless Ulysses

  8. Thank you for following my blog!!

  9. ”Nije verovao u sebe

    i u svoje ruke koje su ga euforiji vodile,

    nije verovao svojim ocima,

    jer cesto su ga varale,”

    a trebalo je

  10. Borba sa sobom je najteža, ali je ta pobeda najveličanstvenija.

    • Slazem se, a meni lichno ova izgubljena bitka stoji kao neki teret na ledjima koji me sa vremena na vreme podseti na svoje postojanje.
      Hvala na poseti i na ovim mudrim rechima, ponekad nam treba da ih cujemo i od nekog drugog.

  11. I would love to read a translation of this sometime. I did read it, and even though I do not understand a word, it sounds so beautiful to me! What language is this? I speak Greek and I feel like it would be wise to translate my poetry sometime. Being bilingual is awesome! 😀

    • This is a fairly old poem. It speaks about an artist who gives up painting, throws away his painting equipement,breaks it all and ends with:”But one day another one will last till the end.”. It is an autobiographical piece. I never knew what I wanted to be as a kid, I never had any big ambition. My brother was always painting so I decided it is best to copy his desire,seeing I was good at painting aswell. I started going to highschool preparation school of painting and it was horrible. I thought learning how to professionaly paint,new tehniques and everything will finaly help me bring all the images I had in my head to life. I wanted to paint dragons, fairies, magic, all I was ever allowed was apples and squashes. I felt like in chains on those classes, going from them back to abusive family with my teacher asking me to make 20+ works a day and to find inspiration in “my home”. All I wanted to paint her was blood. So I quit. I regret it sometimes, hence the ending of this poem. I wish I was stronger back then 🙂
      You should defenatly translate your poetry to as many languages as you can speak, so more people can back in your wonderfull words:)

      • Thanks you for your thoughtful response! 🙂 Sounds like a very inspiring piece, but also quite heartbreaking. I may not know you personally, but I can tell you’re a very strong person now. Such writings come from an individual with a strong soul. ^_^

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