this bird has flown.

Ah.
Rene Magritte.
Belgian surrealist.


You know how Google sometimes is dressed up and designed for certain holidays/celebrations and such?
Well, the other day, it showed a skyline of buildings and several men in suits and bowler hats suspended in midair. Along with another hat upon an apple, as one of the "o"s in google. So I hovered over it, to find it saying "Rene Magritte's 110th Birthday."

So why not search up this Rene Magritte person?

If you look him up, you'll find several paintings that consist of odd subject matter. Men with apples or doves over their faces, incorrect reflections in mirrors, the painting that was displayed as the google logo, eyeballs on objects they shouldn't be on, such as a pancake or bibloquet, eggs in cages and giant apples. And my absolute favorite:



If you don't speak French, or can't guess what that means, it means- "This is not a pipe."
You ought to figure out what he meant by that yourself.
He's amazing.

This was during Jagtime, and I started searching the web, finding my way to other surrealists, reading about them, viewing their artwork.
So interesting.

And I can't help but think of my lack of ability to do anything like this.
I can't help but think of my lack of ability whenever I see anything at all, really.

This is stuff I've been contemplating my whole life, and it races back to me everytime I read a real thought-provoking book or see a real thought-provoking piece of art. I always think that, if I could find my creativity somewhere deep, hiding inside me; if I could just grow an imagination, and explore it; if there was some way I had one, and I utilized it to its greatest extent...that maybe, just maybe. I could be a great artist, too.

But I feel like my mind has no room to create and imagine. It can never do these things regardless of how much I want it to; I beg it to; I force it to. Force to a point that the product is so apparently forced.

My mind doesn't have anything worthy to make use of.
Because the thoughts that race through it are never applicable to art.

And so, with a sad and useless talent, I must say that art will never be my future.Because art is not where my head's at.
At least, not yet.
I feel as if I'm just sitting here waiting for inspiration to one day, come along.
But I have been for years.
And it's not coming.


How do I get over this?
Where do I find this inspiration?
And what can I do until then?





--*edit*--
Hey, this is my 50th post!
So uh, happy 50th post. xD

CLT: Calvin is still the only guy who's ever caused me to cry, sadly enough. xD
Which is the reason why I believe that if I even have ever been in love, it was with him.