Because I’m a little bit obsessed (and a tad crazy). That is all.
Recently I’ve become obsessed with art, more than I ever thought possible. I crave its escape; drawing in my journal and figuring out conceptual meanings is (I would go as far to say) my hobby. Weekends spent in galleries is my idea of heaven, and breaks away from home are based around the art and architecture of a particular country or city. I fan girl when I see my favourite artist is about to exhibit in the UK and will drag any poor, unsuspecting victim with me.
I’ve always known that art is my other half, but since starting History of Art in September, I’ve only now realised how strong the bond is – I’m obsessed! Normal girls my age would swoon over Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber or Chris Pratt but no, not me. My ideal swooning sessions come from the works of Anselm Kiefer, Tracey Emin and Edmund de Waal. They intoxicate me with adrenaline and excitement.
How could you not become transfixed?
The subjectivity allows anyone to interpret and interact if they look hard enough. Art has the ability to cover so many emotions in one simple swipe of a brush. It brings together a variety of different people who can understand and feel the event depicted, without having experienced it themselves. It can rip you apart and sew you back together.
Art is a drug. A drug I don’t want to ever stop taking – I crave more.
What is your insatiable cake?