Let The Dreamer

It begins with a DREAM:

February 18, 2001

A late night, okay, early morning, foray into some art pages of ''Outsider'' art got me to thinking about what is ART. An image enticed me, with its seeming innocence, and then I learned its creator was schizophrenic and a pedophile with violent (!) tendencies. Another of this artist's images at first seemed all lightness and brightness, until I noticed several small disturbing elements. Can this person's creations be considered art?

Other of these ''outsiders'' drew angels they'd 'seen', or other hallucinigenic 'visions' they'd had. Deluded, crazy, even, by rational standards, they were still trying to reach for their idea of perfection. Their images were intriguing at least. These 'outsiders', outside the 'normal' bounds of humanity, still are being creative.

I went to bed, thinking about the meaning of art. Later, I awoke with a feeling I should grab a pen:

Let The Dreamer

Art, the impassioned thing
with vibrant colors
and/or stark contrast;
Art, the pure thing
that seeks after divinity;
Art, the wild thing
that seduces lovers in the night;
Art, what clashing symbols
would still make you art?
How is it, what is it,
Why is it?
We need it,
and all its mysteries,
we need it.
I stretch myself as wide
as my imagination can go.
This is art.
I need stretched,
for I have shrunken too small
in rooms of the mind,
I have shrunken too small.
Give me wideness and air,
teach me to see again,
breathe again,
know divine elements,
train my voice,
this voice,
that it not be shriveled and small.     
Raspy, it is,
with scarce use.
There are wider doors,
wider visions,
and I must find them.
All that I am is begging
me to lead me there.
You, brain that is in charge,
let the dreamer take control.

JAL, 2 - 18 - 01

© Joan Ann Lansberry
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