I've never really written a blog before, believing that what I had to say wasn't important enough for people to want to read. This held true for exactly three years. At the beginning of this semester, I bought my necessary supplies- paints, canvas, new brushes, and set out to work. But what I hadn't done before was think about what I wanted to say. Isn't that what art is about anyways? Figuring out what you want to say, and then saying it? People don't go out and create great things, beautiful and moving things, and then afterward step back and scratch their head and try to decide what they were getting at. Emotions are conveyed, thoughts experienced, choices made to say this thing or that thing or a multitude of things. We have so many things to say, and so little time to say them.
Since I was a child, I've cared about the environment. From sunup to sundown, I played in the dirt. I played with dinosaurs, and caterpillars, and lizards. Sticks, trucks, rocks, streams and leaves all held hours upon hours of boundless entertainment. Going back to the places I spent my time as a kid, and realizing how drastically they'd changed in the ten years that had passed spoke volumes to me. I know I'm not the only one that has revisited a familiar place to find it not so familiar anymore. So what is to become of these wild places? Neighborhoods and shiny new buildings and parking lots have replaced fields and forests and streams. Smog and acid replace fresh air and water, and in some places, even the soil will never be the same. Reports and studies everywhere point out the dangers of the chemicals we put into our bodies, either intentionally or unintentionally. And at what cost?
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