me@bydavidsun.com
me@bydavidsun.com
We all spend our life's trying to find ourselves. But in doing so, we forget the most important part; we choose to define ourselves by our goals, our future, and our finality. Do my thoughts really define who I am? I am an entrepreneur with no business, an artist with no studio, programmer with no projects to show. My reality has been cast in the mold of an illusion. How does one find who they are? It is time to look at what I forgot.
View Full ResAs an artist, I am consumed by my artwork. I question if it is the artwork or the artist who is in control of the art process. I am drunk on the beauty of the final piece. I am inspired by the genius of a beautiful composition. What is the cost of this appreciation? I am drowning. Choking on the fluid of my imagination. I lost who I am to be an artist.
View Full ResAn artist fails. It is the reality some accept. I didn't. I forget my past, my work. I donated away my failure to believe in an idealistic self. Now, I must find my failure again. For it is failure that holds me to the shadows of reality. Without it I am an aloof balloon, someday exploding by the pressure differential of the climbing altitude. As an artist, I must come to terms with my failure; it is my craft. It is who I am.
View Full ResReality is the ultimatum of all artists. It decides if I am successful. It is time I must submit myself to. But, I'm not willing to. I found meaning in the illusion: the belief of my perfection; I am not willing to lose it. I must come to terms with my flaws. It is who I am. They speak more about me than my idealism. I am not sure if I can forfeit my control of reality.
View Full ResI have the choice to remember who I am. Am I a creation of the past or the construct of my future? It is about time I chose the past. I am an artist, not defined by my work but my experiences. I can not forget my artboard or my easel that I used for so many years. But, I can choose to ignore it.
View Full ResA playful eerie silence rings in the stone. The innocent light dances to the rhythm of the recipient's glee. The mineral, so minutely forged, now rests in the hands of lovers. The emotions of the recipient synergies with the sparkle of the rock, unleashing its wanton but disciplined energy. Let them play, the wise person said.
View Full ResThe boulder against the man. The brute vs the twig. Yet with these odds, the twig fights on. You may ask? When is it over the hill? When will he win. He will not. Never. It is not winning that matters. Nor is it losing. Or fighting. Or giving up. Nothing matters but the dimples on the man’s face. The smile, the laughter, the tears. Those give life to the clash.
View Full ResThe perilous enforcer of the universe. The taut strings of a intricate web of entities. We, humans, live under its watchful eye, oblivious of the knowledge it holds. It is the puppet master that let the apple drop on Newton's head. G(m*M)/r^2, 9.81, 6.67*10^-11. Let its relativistic identity continue to embrace us as we look up at the falling apples and smile.
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