The home I came to love, the life I came to live, the people I came to call family. I am Seattle, I live in Mount Vernon and Bellingham but despite this I am still Seattle. This past election I voted on Seattle issues, I voted for a Governor concerning issues in regards to Bellingham, Mount Vernon, but mostly for Seattle. I have dreams of one day graduating and moving my life to Seattle, getting my art degree in Seattle and settling down in Seattle. It's not just the big buildings and busy streets that drive my love. It's the feeling of the place the smells and the imagery, its life in life, a pulsation of culture in a city. The life I have put on hold for a lifetime.
I am a photographer, but more than that I am alive. I capture the moments of my life that exhibit the great feelings and passions, the things I find beauty in. I am an artist that paints words and writes images, I live for the mind and the heart. I paste my soul into everything I do; whenever I do, whatever I do, wherever I do it. As an artist I take a special pride in this, like a great tapestry in which I am designing a great universe of impossible things simply so as someone else can feel an iota of whatever I happen to be feeling. I suffer from a great many things that make me experience things tenfold. I am Bipolar, with manic depression, and I have suffered my entire life with ADHD where I can hardly keep my mind on a single thing at a time, I tend to be everywhere at once and nowhere at the same time. I get lost in the great tapestry of mind, the tapestry of which I construct my art, my love.
The land of Seattle is so rampant with artists it is as if she has whored herself into the night to search out the brilliance of the tinny sound, or the luster of the glistening paints caressing her landscapes and reproducing the natural breath of life that is her womb. I will unashamedly admit to having paid her with my camera and utensils of illustration. I have caressed her in the quiet respite of the night, but it was in love and in passion that I worked over the buildings with my lens and I am proud to call her my home.
Art is in my blood my life and my soul. My mother went through art school to become an art teacher. My father went through school and is an artist. My grandparents were artists before they retired and my grandfather died. The feeling I get when I lay my hands on a brush or a pencil can only be likened to the rushing of warm water over the entirety of your body, it’s as though someone has warmed the sea near the beach and the tide is coming in. The brush passing over the curvature of the canvas, the pencil picking up every contour of the paper is a whole new experience. The production of art is in its self great beyond belief, the deep understanding and discipline one must go through to create truly good works of art is something to be appreciated if not admired. There is a very eastern feeling in the relationship with the artist and their canvas and the canvas with the muse almost as if a master were conducting a student on the ways of properly performing a tea ceremony or the proper ways of honing a blade.
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Deviations by Bogenengel (me)
http://fc41.deviantart.com/fs36/f/2008/263/b/6/Buss_Legs_by_bogenengel.jpg
http://fc76.deviantart.com/fs13/f/2006/363/f/f/Morning_Lights_3_by_bogenengel.jpg
http://fc90.deviantart.com/fs15/f/2006/363/b/9/City_in_Fog_by_bogenengel.jpg
http://fc32.deviantart.com/fs15/f/2006/363/3/0/Spyre_2_by_bogenengel.jpg
http://fc97.deviantart.com/fs37/f/2008/283/f/5/Seattle_Bansy_2_by_bogenengel.jpg
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