A Moment Unlike Any Other

It's difficult for me to imagine that other people love their kids as much as I love mine.

It's so deep that at times it's almost overwhelmingly painful, just to look at them and think about them. That sounds strange, I know.

But I'm sure they must though.

I post the disfigured, out of perspective, sloppy art of my kids from time to time, just like a lot of other parents.

They say love is blind...look at this stuff, it must be.

When I was a little younger, and other people did that, I thought it was obnoxious. Stupid. Boring.

I didn't really get it.
Because to me it wasn't any more than a piece of crap that any kid makes when they're trying to figure it all out...and really it is.

I know this about posting my own kid's crap.

But I've learned a thing or two over the years. Perhaps more accurately I've applied what I've always known differently as my perspective had shifted.

I've learned the only real difference between a beautiful work of art and a waste of money and materials is simply the meaning of it to you.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder...it's true. The depth of real art isn't realized with the senses, but in how it speaks to your heart.

Nothing more, nothing less.
It is the only qualifying, distinguishing  factor.

To me this art, the art of my children, represents a moment in a life that is close to my heart. A moment that in all the history of all the world has never been experienced quite like that before, and will never be experienced quite like that again...and I got to be there.

That's what all good art does, it speaks to the heart.

So I post it.

Sure you could say it's an ugly piece of trash. It's plain, ordinary, boring, whatever, and not knowing the artist you'd certainly be right.

But it doesn't matter to me what you think.

It's art...
No critic is qualified to discredit it.
Not even me.

piece db