What a beautiful mess. The canvas must have been the length and width of two adults standing on each other, it towered over me, commanding attention. Colors thrown, various heights of texture rose and fell, no consistency, but it radiated such powerful energy. I stepped closer to it, examining this soul's expression. I love that color, ocean blue, so vibrant and calming at the same time, a contradiction; overlapping was a stop sign red, another contradiction, existing in harmony. The texture was fantastic; it seemed everything went into this piece, plaster, paint, found objects, bristles and blood. I took it from a potential art critic's point of view, it was less than ordinary, there was no clear definition or composition, the artist "colored outside the lines", it had no real subject matter, it would be labeled mediocre in their eyes. I knew better than that, I try not to judge. There are deeper levels to everything, it just requires effort to figure out the equation.

The piece evoked emotions in me that I had a hard time dealing with at that moment in my life. The complexity of my situation frustrated me because I couldn't put all the emotions and actions into designated order. They needed to be placed into my heart's filing cabinet so I knew what to label them, I wanted clear definition of what was going on, not ongoing scattered emotions. As my eyes took a journey over this complex terrain, I analyzed every single detail along the way, the strokes, the body of the work; I felt the yearning and release of emotion being expelled in the only way it could be, scattered. Its amazing being around another person's exposed heart, it makes you more comfortable with exposing yourself. Emotional peer pressure...in the best way. Connecting yourself to another human being through art appreciation, all arts actually, just understanding that another person out there knows just how you're feeling, you're not alone, its comforting in the most quiet way.

As I took in all the beauty of this masterpiece, I had tiny little epiphanies along with it. My relationships were not going to be clear and precise like a manufactured copy of a mathematical grid. They were each individual masterpieces. There inability to be the person I want, not being what I'm physically looking for, or the scattered aspects of their emotions and actions. There imperfections, like in this art piece, were exactly what made them so perfect. The things that people label in others as being problematic or unattractive, actually are the bright strokes of color unapologetically being swiped across their canvas. Its who they are, its their style, accept it or don't. You either like an art piece or you don't right? Same with people, you don't have to take them home with you, but at least step back and appreciate what they're creating. The masterpiece of their life, themselves.

The colors not being complimentary to each other on one side; the opposite ends of a personality trying to live in harmony and compromise. The undefined lines and unclear blending on this end; the aspects of a person to be open and undecided. Uneven textures, inconsistent patterns; physical differences, body types not being perfect in society's eyes. Still there is that moment in each person's daily life where they get that freedom to look at someone and see them in all their beauty, love all their imperfections and appreciate the whole of the masterpiece they are. That is a stage of one of the highest evolutions your soul can be at, living in beauty and harmony, accepting and appreciating. We've all been there, if just for a moment. Seeing and feeling this piece taught me acceptance of my relationships, every flaw, every beauty, every aspect, just as it is, just they way it needs to be.

Love for art and people should be at equal levels, there's so many similarities. Each one I come across painting a visual picture in my brain when I listen to their words and watch their movements. Each piece of artistry expressing what the actual person's about. So much inspiration everywhere, just waiting to be discovered. I don't paint straight lines, I don't seek perfection in my life; I will attempt to create a certain image if asked, but its the imperfections that make it beautiful. The imperfections of my relationships remind me of the imperfections in my paintings. They add character, they make it unique, they may not always be attractive to everyone, but they belong there, because its just part of their style. They are perfect the way they were originally created, that's the person's intention, conscious or not. Its the way we create, everything.