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Wednesday, December 12, 2012
In one interview with Capuzzo, I remember he shared with me that if people could cry over tales where two human whom chose to be butterflies, touched by fantasies like Cinderella and thousands and thousands of imagined stories, what's more the power of stories of real individuals.
Michael told me last week that artists are thinkers and philosophers.
I'm a wild child at heart anchored with love.
If there is a self portrait of me, I think it will be this back view of a little girl riding on a black horse with hair letting down, brushing through wind; on the path where it's a blurry sandy road ahead.
And now at this stage, it takes much deeper dimension for me to be fathom over Father's love, I think my art takes a very different approach than who I was previously. I think I am slowly getting there..
And one day, I get to see a self portrait of me, the front view.
And perhaps, I am no longer a girl, but a woman.
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