HareideART

I’ve always been a life puzzle enthusiast, not the kind you find in the back of a cereal box, but the kind where the pieces are your dreams, your passions, and those odd moments of existential dread. That’s when I stumbled upon Ikigai, the Japanese concept that’s like the Venn diagram of life’s purpose. But instead of boring you with a lecture, let me tell you a story—because who doesn’t love a good yarn? Imagine this: I’m in my late twenties, working a job that makes me feel like I’m a cog in a machine that’s not even plugged in. My daily routine? Wake up, coffee, commute, work, coffee again because why not, more work, home, Netflix, sleep. Rinse and repeat. One day, I’m scrolling through my phone, and there it is—Ikigai, promising to be the secret sauce to a fulfilled life. Ikigai, if you haven’t heard, is where what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for intersect. Sounds like a perfect storm of happiness, right? But finding it? That’s like...

Let me tell you a story. Not long ago, I was sitting with my iPad and staring at a half-finished digital disaster. You know, the kind that is neither abstract enough to be "deep" nor realistic enough to resemble anything other than a strange, color-smeared cardboard box. I was desperate for inspiration. So, while I was scrolling through social media (because nothing says "creative process" like endless scrolling), I stumbled upon the art of Paul Bailey. What met me were his landscapes – paintings so simple, yet so charged with emotions. There was something about the way he painted the sea crashing against the rocks, the empty horizon, and the small details that told big stories. It felt like drinking a cold cup of coffee – initially bitter, but then unexpectedly invigorating. I felt an urge to try something new. The search for the essential Bailey is a master of simplification. He takes landscapes and strips them down to just the essence. A mountain formation is red...

I just have to say it: I love art that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Perfection is overrated, if you ask me. And that’s exactly why Mel McCuddin has become a bit of a secret inspiration for me. If you haven’t heard of him, McCuddin was an American artist known for his quirky, expressive paintings – somewhere between abstract madness and figurative beauty. He painted people, animals, and things that looked like… well, something straight out of a dream. Or a nightmare, but in a good way. Starting Without a Plan What fascinates me most about McCuddin is how he worked. He always started without a plan – he just threw paint onto the canvas and saw what happened. Honestly, I find that kind of admirable. Here I am, trying to write something, and I spend half my time obsessing over how to begin. McCuddin? He just went for it – literally. Eventually, the shapes and figures would emerge, almost like magic. It makes me think: How often do we hold ourselves back because we want a perfect plan...