The Beauty of Creation

Paint is my medium of choice. I’ve always been a painter. My mother taught me how when I was too little to appreciate it. I didn’t know how blessed I was to learn how to create at such a young age, have it ingrained in me, so that I could carry it with me the rest of my life. I appreciate it now.

I am thankful I’m an artist. I like to think that I see the world differently from others. I love to watch the way the light catches over landscapes like the great French Impressionists. The relationship shapes create in space fascinates me. I love the way colors oppose each other, ultimately working together to make each other seem brighter. The way lines can lead the eye like a simple traveler, wandering his way across a scene.

At first, when I began to create with paper, I was stuck. When I paint, I am able to let the progression of the painting take me where it wants to go; change things, add things, wherever they need to be. But painting with paper was different. It required careful calculation. Each layer would have to be treated as its own work, precisely cut to fit like a piece of a puzzle. Without the improvisational aspect, I didn’t know where to start.

So I started with the mountains. I created this piece mid-February, my craving for summer air being my muse. The scene depicts that of a late August fishing trip up in the mountains, my family’s haven. I vividly remember that night, watching the sun go down over the clouds letting all the colors fade.

As I carefully cut each mountain face, I heard my little brothers laugh as he watched a paddling of ducks disturb all the fishermen at the lake. When I traced out the clouds, a memory of me and my other brother pointing out shapes in them to each other came back to me. The trees took incredible patience, easily taking me an hour for that section alone. As I meticulously cut each microscopic piece to shape them into pines, I recall the patience my father had as my fishing line was caught in those very branches. The reflection on the water has my mothers name on it. Everyday I see how her teachings reflect in my life. We don’t always get along, I think because we are too similar, we are merely reflections of each other, what could we expect? When I added the stars, I thought of my sister and nights spent on the trampoline, talking about life, and gazing into the galaxy together.

If I had attempted this in my usual medium, it might have looked good but it wouldn’t have been the same because the lesson wouldn’t have been learned. I would not have seen how each part was so separate yet united. I was able to spend time specifically dedicated to each shape, made sure it fit, and understood its importance. And somehow these shapes of color reminded me of my family and a night we were able to spend together.

Above all, that is what I love most about art. I cut shapes out of paper and glued them together. That is really all I did. But to me, what it created is much more. Art holds an incredible power. It creates unexpected emotions deeper than I would ever expect a piece of paper to be capable of. When all the pieces I cut out with my own two hands are placed where they’re supposed to go, a world is made. That is the beauty of creation.