There is no shortcut in art. Everything must be built, layer upon layer. There is no standard size or technique. Every color must contribute in its time and in its place--each layer and every shade blending into a beautiful composition, a symphony on paper. The layers cannot be judged by their individual merit. The equation of art demands that each step in the process be viewed in light of the finished work. The layer may seem ugly alone, yet it is beautiful as a singular part in the magnificent whole.  
What are we, if not magnificent works of art? What are we, if not layer after layer of life? Like waves, time lapses over us. To some its a sequence of accidents, while to others, its a chain of determined events. Despite the perspective of the canvas, the artist works on. Who are we to call our current stage ugly? Who are we to discount the sporadic color, merging in from all different sides of our existence? Who are we to question what we cannot fully see? Who are we to attempt control over what we do not understand? 

And what of purple? 
The apprehensive artist compensates with pinks and reds, ignoring purple as best they can. It takes a true master to take such a color and use it in integral places? Who would use such a vivid color on the rendering of the human complexion? Who would dare to take such a cold color and rely so dearly upon it? Who would place a shade of violet here, and an arc of lavender there? Too bright--we think. Too technicolor to be beautiful--we say. 

Yet, the artist knows that such a dignified choice will draw depth into the portrait. In the continuous layers of work and lapses of time, violet will become the subtle champion of the masterpiece. The unredeemable places become the artist's honor. 


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