Breathing paintWritten by Honorata Chorazy-Przybysz
It is the paint that makes me breathe. I almost suffocated myself once without it. I was not painting for a long while of over 30 years of my life. I was somewhere there far away in human fake world of fighting egos and meaningless conversations. My days were filled with a nonsense of daily living for nothing more than mere feeding, working, commuting, maintaining, sleeping and repeat mode. It lasted years, many years and almost killed me. I was about to grasp the very last, desperate air of life when painting appeared…
We painters live to paint. Nothing more nothing less.
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