Antoni, who wanted to draw only one later, didn't think he was so alive and dirty.
Anyway, it's my personality, I don't want to draw one later, I want to draw as many later. Let's dedicate everything to this one every time we draw one, let's not regret dying now, because despite that wish, we've always been thirsty to draw next.
Making the greatest masterpiece in the past that shook my heart. An indescribable pleasure, like a kind of catharsis. Antoni, who loved art so much, loved it at the same time, overriding it by more beautiful beauty and ruining it.
It's a sentiment that resembles a passion for conquest. It's that spine-running sense of liberation that breaks down what I've built up over a long period of time.
There is indeed one violent passion in Antoni.
But that's one thing.
Antoni had a love for multiple arts.
For example, I have had a desire to be in the heart with art.
Antoni thinks art is a tragedy. Sorrow, remorse and smoothness are all art.
Crying washes my heart beautifully. Repentance and smoothness give something to the mind to congest, which eventually takes root in a person's heart, becoming the person's word and thought.
Art speaks strongly.
People are strange creatures who want to cry and sink themselves into sighing emotions by engulfing their sorrow and remorse into them. And there are things that I want to feel pompous about and with that emotion.
It is one luxury that I would like to share with my work of art.
Antoni understands deeply, though, that luxury of spoiling herself to pessimism and wishing death, mistakenly thinking she could die and living her days and wanting to die.
Love for death. Tanatos.
One of art.
That's why I look sweet on that Beliessa again, but it also seemed like that might be one of the sentiments of the old.
For example, I have wanted to be eaten by art.
That Beliessa seems to have the same feelings, but I had a deep understanding of that feeling again with Antoni.
This body is despicable.
Anyway, it seems to me that we are one dwarfed person, angry with boredom, something shallow in our minds, or a darkness behind not accepting something tall.
Art is great.
The great beauty is overflowing with things that envelop my dwarfiness and sin. The tenderness that permeates the weakened emotions slowly fills and purifies me.
And on the other hand, it is also harsh. Absolutely like piercing yourself. Truth that makes me want to kneel too vividly. There is such a feeling that the light kindles itself that you look up to God and fall in love with something that is absolute.
Art eats its own body.
It is taken by art, and the body breaks down, and becomes a component of the great system of art, the one world. Emotions like paternal love, maternal love that look at it, where a butterfly called art hatches by nourishing itself.
That pleasure that I think takes me into something great.
What you want to be eaten by art is at the end of that mixed emotion. Antoni understood that.
For example, I have thought that art has to be something that rips people apart.
Sometimes art attacks people.
Messageability like thrusting. Violent to disprove a person's weakness. Personality denial until irrational. Or with honesty, step on a man's weak heart and smear it. Still disparage it by the time this is done.
Words of denial that thrust hard shock people vividly.
Strangely then, people are moved.
People are drawn and moved like featherworms by the brutality of mocking and laughing at foolishness and thoroughly crushing weakness.
Then art should be.
A strong, touchy message is that it's also a work of art.
One of the areas where Antoni thinks he doesn't have enough talent was his ability to inflict violence that rips people apart into the arts.
For example, I have thought that art must be thorough and nil.
Nature is a harmonious being, beautiful and intact.
Art is a tool to follow. Beauty is hidden in advance, and the tools for digging it out are art.
The stone of sculpture does not carve the shape of Venus, the task of carefully digging it out so that Venus is buried from the beginning and does not harm it is art.
The same is true of the paintings painted above Kanvas. A beautiful view of the finished shape is already hidden above Kanvas, and it is art to use the brush to carefully dig it up.
Art, therefore, is nil.
It is not a hustle and self-assertion, it merely manifests beauty, from the fantasy of a world of beauty to the world. Painting is like a window, sculpture is like a stopover.
The task of hosting the idea of beauty. No, correctly, the act of politely picking up the idea of beauty that is already hidden there is art.
I don't need ideas.
I don't even need a decorative complaint.
If only it were a beauty dwelling.
That's what Antoni thought when Antoni was most loved by art.
What art is.
Antoni thinks there are no words to define in a nutshell. All we have to do is argue that something is just one art, like art, and that's how art has overlapped numerous cultures and contexts.
Antoni was just a bystander who had observed its numerous arts from the most discerning places, a man of the times who sometimes tried to run with it, and an impending explorer who sometimes inexorably tried to touch the core of what 'beauty' was.
That is a question that remains unclear.
Art was unspeakable in a word, and it was only in the number of Antoni's memories that art existed.
(Whatever the art, this jizzy loved art in general enough to face it from the front and be thoughtful about each one. I'm sure you still love me after losing my shape)
If from now on, even if we continue on the path of 3D art like clay craftsmanship, Antoni will love art.
If from now on, even if we were to abandon art, Antoni would love art.
No matter how long it takes, Antoni's heart at the end of his wish is there.
(I want to draw the next one somehow. Only one more)
Art was such a thing for Antoni, who knew no other way of life, that if he lost this, the world would lose its color.
Immerse yourself in something you don't understand. I know painfully how stupid that is. And it is now more reminded now that it has lost its shape.
If there is another time in life, Antoni still chooses art.
But still, Antoni couldn't help wishing for once now because he loved art.
"Let's draw. Let's draw a lot. Ning Lo, would you like to show your work to the world?
That's what the young merchant Toshiki said.