By having studied, I’ve only filled my empty head. By doing prostrations, I’ve only ruined my fragile knees. By making offerings, I’ve only fallen further into poverty.
A poem about Gods by the artist and writer Michael Tweed.
This makes me appreciate and want to emulate all the more those old brush and ink painters and poets of China, to strip the artistic act down to the most basic elements and to focus on the approach, the attention and, yes, the openness and vastness of life.
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