Comfort begets laziness,
begets stagnation,
begets impurity,
begets pungency,
begets death.
-W.E.
What do you feel allows your art to manifest? Is it comfort, is it knowing your bills are paid, debts taken care of, money in the bank, ease of lifestyle and sound body and mind? Or is it striving and struggling, pain and or illness, discomfort, trials, tribulations etc? Or is it a balance between the two? Is it something else completely? How does your art, be it writing, painting, music, drawing, crafts, spoken word or any form of art, manifest. What are the conditions you need present to have it come out of you?
Please share your personal view based on yourself, not others.
-W.E.
lonerloaner 
I think when one finds one’s own medium through which one can express oneself, I’m convinced, at least in my experience (and also reading from others), that it is just within oneself, it is something that so badly needs to be expressed whether if it’s from one’s natural disposition and personality (the Bronte sisters had little life experience in regard to the subjects they were writing about) and/or from life’s experiences.
I read years ago the words of Iris Murdoch that a good writer writes for himself and not for others. I know that once I try to start pleasing others’ expectations, I lose something, something is lost.
Art is the expression of one’s humanity, one’s own individual representative fingerprint of humanity which no one else can offer in quite the same way as anyone else. Art is such a contentious subject, the wildly varying definitions of it, but this is what I believe to be true.
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…and art also expresses itself through various forms of physical catharsis as well, which by many would not be considered an art form, but I believe that it is. Art is catharsis, in many ways.
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The ONLY place i feel true serenity and safety – my room, an array of colorful rainbows plastered all over the walls.my surroundings are all bright positive and happpy. With that, i allow energy course through my veins into my brain, where the madness and chaos takes place.
The voices are unleashed, and traffic of words begin, they are lined up back to back with nowhere to go excep there.
.and then ill proceed to read others’ freeways, and the fact we are all so connected , post after post i can relate, makes me think of a whole bunvh of other stuff and then once again the freeways are plugged till you get em out somewhere.
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Unto here i should say. But it used to be diaries for 15 years.
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