HORSES AND THE ARTIST
Horses have conquered my heart, so apart from the paintings, prints, prints on horses for me add to my paragraph about horses and horses written about me: Horses and me as kites with wind, wind flying kites , the wind blowing kites to the high endless. One day, on endless, met a fairy. She looked at two kite hands and she said: Previous kites are Horses, can draw and want to draw people but not where. This kite is a man and an artist, so many times love horses as a graceful figure, dreadful flexibility in the vanity of the proud but the way, how to run graceful way, not like an animal. end. How to lie, how to think, innocently luxurious, raised his head, down the tail like the Dragon wants to rise up, the four legs are always flexible as if to leave the ground, away from the dirty dirt full Unconditional, foolish, unreasonable by the cause. Then, Horse is me, just as I was a horse. So I give up here to the horse to talk to her children, because the artist is always modest, courteous little talk about her because of me, there are some people tease teaser – Especially those who Not a horse but a human.
Now that I am a horse, on the first day, horses do not remember any day, at any time, when the horse has not spent, no one can envisage that the limb, not worthless, is the imagination in the thought of the artist Le Ba only. Nothing? After a few glasses of wine, only one time, hand holding paint with paint, he dance to dance, when fast slow and then naturally formed horse. Horses calmly looked at the artist with eyes, tender, grateful. Hardly, he made five, out seven, then ten and one hundred that the horse is not negligent, enough style that horses are still “horses.” Then he put his horse lying there study pen to go to the land, to lay timber, chisel stone, casting bronze or even if it is still the core horse is still. Although the material is different, but also a soul, the manner is dormant … Sometimes he tore the paper, there is black paper, there is white paper, sometimes cut to pieces, round pieces , the piece is distorted and patchwork, sticking together to create the horse as a small child is a horse that was not like the horse before. His head wobbled, his eyes sparkling, his hands real. At times, people praise him, thanks to him, negotiate with him through money, then he made a heap of countless stories, with enough color, print, miscellaneous arrangements. He also made the boxes are small, pretty, superficially placed a few words, the interior put the horse plate and called the book “horse”.
Unfortunately horses are not intellectuals, rolling with meaning, living with literature three yards to enjoy. The first book, no color at all. The book box “Eight Horses” all new white paper. The word is Chinese, the West is not ink. Eight horses in it, not a single color. Which everyone is new, is beautiful. Sold as soon as selling bread. Each day in the glass cabinet in the entrance of the National Library made him stunned every day to see the horse raging in the glass. Then came the second book with handmade paper, Japanese wind paper, with hundreds of horses in it, color and black and white. He cut, he stuck, he painted watercolor, he painted the paint and then he carried the horse around, he sold the horse, so many friends said he is not a painter but drover.
Horses go from country to country, wherever there are people picking up the show carefully, in these places are strange but no one who is jealousy, speak up to say only praise and respect. There are those who buy horse back into the frame, cage in the glass, between the main house, horse as a precious or as beautiful girl, as a partner, not let anyone touch but look far enough.
I became important, knew they exchanged horses, money, money, dollars, but still nothing. It is a matter of how people avoid: “Money is a poor guy And they still love money.” There are children selling both father, uncle, country, young to have money. This is the religion of the king of the flood. But nevertheless, the horse is still a horse, the work is like the race favorite, respect is enough. But there were also three friends of the artist who stabbed jealousy, said down but the horse repeated to his teacher, “horses run into the village, how many dogs running out barking and demanding to bite, but the horse is still As usual, run wild, never look at the dogs. “
He chuckled, he did not say anything, he knew he was an artist, he was not human. He lived with affection and beauty. Horses are not so majestic animals so luxurious. The uninfected species, caught by the people, pierced in the nose, tied the plow behind, pulled drag, pulled throughout life, sometimes the column behind the car, pulling, running backward running, then They sat on the car screaming like the power, dance whip, scolding is another. There were scurvy in the mouth, between the teeth of the iron rod, the two sides of the two ropes to pull the right side, pull the left side and many times when they jerked for hate, they ran, ran fast , they also use the whip, the whip to hit the ass, the two heels hit the hips to run faster to get money; Sometimes they tie the saddle on their back to make them ride or go for profit.
They do all kinds of things, but not enough to change the shape of the noble, the noble of horses. They are the same race, but who is someone who is still unknown. Inscrutable, incompetent, loveless, everyone knows, greedy to size “with elephants they claim”. In this life, how many become ugly, spoiled, spoiled because of them all. My homelands were enslaved by the captives, because they had the power of organization, the clans of the henchmen, the guards, the law, they had the government, the court, the prison, the army. So what’s the deal with them? And if they had to be killed, they would eat meat like dog meat. They do not go out, they go to sell for money, put money into the bank for dividends for children, for the wife, for the neighbor’s wife, to death they also bring both capital and interest to hell again. Who can resist the human beings, may they have no four hands, four feet are dead, the flood.
But the horse does not belong to human species bullies are thanks to the artist. Absolutely free to fly by the wind in the clouds or in the hands of the virtuous teacher. This artist is not a man but a witch. With his horse can be green, is black, is white, is copper, is iron, is earth, is paper, is to small to large. By what style, enough shape, enough paths, enough freedom, have separate identity. Horses in the work, then with his work spoiled that people praise the negotiation. Located in a “beauty” is not the same. He put on the horse the heart, affection, talent that he hid in the only need to pull out, never. Horses are placed in the horse master with respect, love and trust each other, then one. He wanted to go nowhere, never satisfied, but the horse remained calm so that he was free to write. For a long time, his horse became empty with some iron wire, copper wire and now the real gold wire, his hands attached. For the first time like this horse feels more liberal. The emptiness is the form of the horse. What are the special features of peace? So my artist is an old friend, a god, a god of horses.
For months, with the emptiness, he created a horse in a very uncanny way, suddenly changing his appearance but still luxurious and still a horse. He called it “yes no no”. Just like the Zen, “the color is not no.” The color is not the illusion theory is true, the shape, the block, the horse is a work of art.
Horses still remember the new birth, the shape is empty, there is no place, or just some copper wire bending. New horse saw the Buddha sitting next to the tall defenders? He was as empty as a horse. So serious as the real Buddha. Horses were afraid, too, and he was surprised to see the horse at the sight of him. He began to confide in the horse for a long time, and he and his horse had been made of bronze, earth, wood, with all the materials that the artist liked to use at the time. Horses still remember their body with thick, thick, tough, nothing new. Buddha as well as horse, it was not particularly liked but not dare to mourn with the teacher, maybe he threw away what to do? Horses know he is gentle but hot temperament. Buddha did not say anything at all. “Male models of the Buddha” Yes, no no – yes or no.
Then one evening, the wizard gave us an empty boat, which the boat demanded to take our souls to the other side of our nirvana. Horse is not clear whether the boat is elegant or not? When the boat is landing, there is a singing voice, “Where is the boat?” Where is the river across the river without a blessing for people? fake debt, love, wisdom, this life … “
He, the horse and the Buddha hesitated, then looked around each other, looking out to see if anyone wanted to board the boat? We just saw the eyes are looking directly at us as if you want to ask? Oh my God! Then the scenery also has eyes, mountains have eyes, clouds have eyes, eye rain storm and the wizard said: “The eye is the soul and he made poetry eye, painting the eye.”
Thinking for a moment, the horse guessed that these Souls also wanted the same Buddha, the same horse took the empty boat together to pass through the nirvana can always. The boat agreed, the eyes agreed, the horse agreed but the Buddha was hesitant. He said: You go on, I have a duty to stay to save people through the pit of depression. Do not hesitate me to loud with him: “Buddha, why are you so naive, how to save the human like? They are stubborn, foolish grandfather.”
What kind of people is that, they themselves made the depression of the dam, how can it be saved? And if they take them to the other side, they will take the strategy of cunning, religion, animals, bribes, cheat, they will change heaven to hell him! Where they bring benefits, money, laws, power, religious instability, their rank, their clans, selfish, lewd, cheat your teacher, eat stone bowl porridge, betrayed him father, everything dirty, cruel. They will carry snake whistle, dirty girls, dirty, murderous, busy eating robes eat dog meat, rape, to curse father hit mother, cheat lie to you, cheat lie to you, All things, bad things, unclean, they do not know or they know but still ignore. Le Ba teacher has many times witnessed with his friends then. Who is that strange man like him again?
If you do not believe him to go to hell, the nine floors are packed in the dark all their flood. Previously on the earth they do rain, wind, masks self-professed, professors evil enough cheat deceive people. The garden is full of fields, money ring inside the unclean, full of beast. Pluto is extinguishing their bodies into the dark sea to take the vacant spot to welcome their relatives to flood them. Do they know what love is, is beautiful life? What they offer is comparable to gold and silver, with a wealth of power, speak one by one, picking up all over, cheating on you, changing white instead of black. Horses respected him but ignored him. He was the Buddha, he stayed to save that devil class. Then he would know the horse, the boat, the eye, and the artist temporarily came to a corner of his life so that he could finish his plan for his human tragedy – then he reassured himself and the horse was too happy. . At that time, whether you are a man or a horse, please see him in heaven or in hell. Namo Amitabha Buddha.