Andrew Belle - Pieces (Black Bear)
To be honest I feel like a child who’s drawn a picture with multiple poorly chosen crayons on a white piece of paper. On this paper, there’s a host of lines and colors out of array in an attempt to create a sketch and get a point across but on this picture the image is, as on most children’s art projects, distorted, out of proportion with unrealistic color choices. Most parents are patient to excuse these imperfections and appreciate enough their kid’s work to put it on their fridges. I feel that despite my most desperate and caring efforts this child is me and his art, is my music. That my heavily father isn’t quietly putting my work on the fridge and that he’s accidentally mis-valued my work as if my music were the works of Picasso handing me an unworthy payment and praise in exchange.
The air can be quite stifling when we surround ourselves with mere hobbies. Albeit we buy into the lie that the objects we surround ourselves with can fulfill us, but there always seems to be a need for the next thing.
We need each other. We need other people.