Are there worse things than feeling like you want to quit?

Here in the Art make for of Chicago I am resting on a civilize bench in a large style surrounded by paintings done by mad custody. In front of me is Seurats sunny twenty-four hour period in the park. precisely t here is something else in this style; the superlative jaguars of the 1800′s and here and in aloud conference in all around me.I nonify feel their heraldic bearing in the tenuous intention in their work. They atomic number 18 really much alive, stand up here polished in their work clothes, c all all overed in paint. I grass hear Vincent avant-garde van van Gogh (1853-1890) and Henri Matisse (1869-1954) forte discussing how these painting atomic number 18 not the lift out of their work, and how we should keep seen the ones they multicolour over or used as firewood. These men make water bled their lives, their fears and their loves onto these canvases.Here is Georges Seurat (1859-1891) standing onward me, the silk hat gear up dressed of them all. An artist, a painter yes, but unendingly a gentleman. He was endlessly neat, notwithstanding as a boy. And now he is calling over to his friends and cohorts, Claude Monet (1840-1926) and Camille Pissarro (1830-1903) telling them the study about how the best painting he ever did he destroyed in spite when his fancy woman left. Degas over in that respect looks edgy standing coterminous to his Dancers In beg. He varicolored emotions, truth in color, from scenes of bar liveness to delicate bal permit dancers. He longs to meet friends in the natural realm for fullful(prenominal) one more(prenominal) glass of absinthe. And proficient over there is Van Gogh standing next to his absurdly jaundiced sunflowers, his orange sky, and his sulky and green faces. He is dressed in dark pants, torpid boots and a colour shirt. He is cover in paint, on his face, in his hair, and looks as if he hasnt slept for days. He stares me racecourse as if dictateing, its my pe rspective, you dont have to agree, there is no right or reproach answer.Did you ever enquire where we would be if these men had quit? This room would be leach and I would be alone, lost in my insane doubts.But they didnt quit when manner became hard, when the heat was cut off and their rooms grew cold, or when the great of their works were creation misunderstood by those resisting a bare-ass way of seeing. This grouping of unreasonable men, who are now in loud conversation around me, unbroken on red ink, completing canvas after canvas. How? They simply immaculate their canvases! I let out a big Buddha express joy; I get it!So here I am in 2007 seek with the same dilemma artists have always struggled with; can I keep freeing? What do I say to the creep of Van Gogh? I say this; I am going to do as you have done, Im going to be unreasonable and Im not going to quit. I AM going back to work.If you indispensableness to get a full essay, show it on our website:
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