I see bubbles everywhere, I see them near and far
Sometimes they're overlapping, or resting on a star
I jumped inside one yesterday, another one today
I tried to catch one floating by, but it chose not to stay
Like little bubbles floating high, these circles come and go
And knowing what to do with them, is what will make you grow
Some are filled with happiness, some weighed down by dread
I choose my bubbles carefully, to pop inside my head
For being an artist is to be true, you cannot ever lie
And after all you've painted out, your brain river runs dry
So I fill my head again, and cram the bubbles in
I fill my brain with lots of these, and squash as many in
Let these bubbles brew a while, fighting for some space
The mashed up circles of life around, can never be erased
I now know what I believe it takes, to paint from deep within
It's truth that needs to be expressed, not an imaged laced in sin
A big breath in, a big breath out
Thats how it has to go
It's impossible to paint your mind, from underneath the snow
So stay a while, the truth is there
It's never going far
It's waiting there to be your friend, to be your shining star
Close your eyes and grab a brush, paint through your little maze
To find your way to find your truth, inside you have to gaze
The best way through has little effort, not forced or blocked or tainted
But only you will ever know, exactly what you've painted
And after you have told your truth, it sits there for all to see
But what's the use if not to share, for others will relate
To talk, connect and drift within, and spark their own debate
KF
I have met some pretty incredible people over the years through art. It's taken us to a lot of places we would never have even thought possible. Looking back, I can't really believe it took me to Samoa, 2 exhibitions later and 2 incredible art workshops in one day teaching both deaf students and art teachers from all around Samoa to paint on textured material. A bit of a rush when I stop and think about it.
Living in a small town has taught me a lot. It ain't the city. It ain't the art hungry, museum loving, art buying capital I'd hoped it would be. If only we'd live in New York I'd dream almost every day. It ain't big fish country and it certainly ain't the South Pacific.
Stuck.
