On Loving Art

Words by Samuel de Saboia

If you took art away from me, I would stop breathing. Isn't that love? The first time I could not create filled me with the pain of many heartbreaks.

The first barrier wasn't only physical, but mental, almost spiritual.

To my parents, the act of creating was a flirt with the devil, the occult, and the unknown. That always seemed insane for me since they were so creative in my eyes. Still, society's norms in the northeast of Brazil were very simple, and the pleasures of aesthetics were only subjects for the wealthier groups, an economic view on Romeo and Juliet. The austerity of a Christian household and the enchanting rhythm of my hometown streets were two different families, fighting and clashing, desperate to see who would win over me. The discreet charm of the bourgeoisie wants my body. At the same time, my parents' non-stop prayers claim my soul. Amongst this ballad between desperate and divine, colors became my lovers.

Spiritual, funny, explosive, dramatic, sensual, holy, powerful, and ambitious, if combined with a height of 6 feet, that could be a reasonable date. However, my type usually has a height of 9 to 13 feet. I like to stretch them in the sun, a romantic yoga session before the first layers of paint. Our first dates and conversations are always so romantic, and last until the late hours when the body usually craves food or sleep. At first, I would deny them because my partners demanded too much until an understanding developed that a healthy balance is needed so the relationship can keep on going. After some years of non-stop honeymoon, money and fame started showing up, and I can't deny that I haven't invited them for some orgies. Still, after some talks, we decided to get all together in an open relationship. Galleries and agents, such a toxic romance, come and go, each time promising more than they can deliver. The love promises are always good, but the fine print can be hard to read. 50% for your soul, how can you put a price on a human life?

With time comes maturity and time to admire all the books I bought and forgot to read, the many travels and passport stamps, too many beds, not much sleep. You have to stay balanced, stay sharp, stay lit, and every day that I make and shape the art that you see takes me one step closer to the truth that through loving art, I learned to love me.

Pieces of You Issue 12


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