Imagin

I understand paintings better when i think of them as the moment the painter was afraid of losing.
Fearly and calmly they sit next to a canvas, Behold. In a casuel manner make a masterpeace,  With soft brush strokes pay attention to details, How a lot of layers make their heart race higher, Because its more life like and complicated structured to fear and love at.
The painter mind is a part of the art, but its missing at first sight. Its only implied.
They are painting fears, maintaining fears, with the existence of the precious moments, for ever. They are maintaining themselfs humans, while in painting a god and a human sing something else where.
They have to make the white hell a black paradie of moments come and vanish, in shades of light, Just like in real life magic – That is the meaning of constantly being.

And i will paint you, Staring, Un familiarly, Sharp nose, Twisted and indeferent eyes, almost stretched on couch, facing something or someone beyond The seen. Hard bones, straight and con chased look. Almost aware of the god who made you.
Like The other painters in The cabin, my darkest fears are not losing a view who is common beauty for The eye, something Un personal as sunrise or bloom.
I am making The viewer ask – why would he paint you In such a real, metalic and un kind version, if he can not see in it something else? If he can not see in it a form of love.
Its interesting, in what exact moment can someone find love or fear in someone else. What has he found, might we tell.
Because if its a moment i dont know If I even have to lose in the first place, My human and my godest star at me scared and adore, If so im the bigest reality painter they have known. They call it Imagine.