What is it they don't like about me:
being eccentric,
my head being larger than most,
my mannerisms,
my non-conforming attitudes toward art,
how I walk, how I dress?
I can accept being eccentric,
for I am an artist.
There are no holds on art,
it comes and goes with
every moment of painting roads to the Sun.
I can accept being eccentric,
to share my uncertainties with society,
for art is a mother to me.
She guides my hands onto the canvases
of wheat fields and sunflowers.
There is no normality connected
to my passion for painting.
I hold back nothing. I am judged by
those who know nothing of art,
who work their day-to-day mundane schedules,
who are afraid to venture beyond their techniques.
They say I am eccentric.
But, what do “they” know of me?
I am a sensitive person in an insensitive society.
I climb the spiritual walls of art
while painting the Earth's pains and sorrows,
joys and happiness.