Because that’s really what art is, right? A baring of your soul into a creation that is one hundred percent you. I’m not talking about art with a capital “A” here, I’m talking about just art, the messy kind that’s angry and violent, or hopeful and inspiring. The real, raw kind of art that comes straight from the soul. If you’ve ever seen a painting or heard a song that really resonated with you, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
Art is, at the very least, evidence of the existence of souls at all.
Most people like to believe that love is the one thing that can conquer death. That love, honest and true, will be everlasting after a lover is laid in the ground. I like to think that love is a bit like art. It’s primal, instinctual, and enduring. To love honestly is to bear one’s soul openly and willfully. Being in love is an art form in and of itself.