I think true love is defined as allowing the person you love to be happy, sometimes even when you are not the one delivering that happiness. True love is noble.
What do you think true love is?
You can define love as what is said in the bible or any other religious texts. Or person through your experiences of great love, or maybe through poems and artworks of others. But no matter what, love is the most beautiful and intense thing we experience.
To me, the highest from of love that can be represented is art. Be it written, paintings, sculptors or photographs. Art is the highest from of love. I also think that the highest form of compliment is for someone to say that you are a piece of art; for you are made of the best kinds of love. Remember the Musée d’Orsay moment?
Love and Art
Love between mother and child can be seen by the sculptor of Michelangelo. The Pietà depicts Mother Mary holding Jesus in her arms after the Crucifixion. It is one of my favourite sculptures of all time.
The love between man and woman can be seen by another great artist, Leonardo da Vinci in the Mona Lisa. It is a painting by a wealthy Florentine merchant for his wife (Lisa) to be hung in their room. It felt like love was too great to be written in words or done in actions, it had to be painted. And thus the love between a man and his wife became one of the most adored piece of painting in history.
You also have the famous photograph of the kiss between a sailor and a lady in Times Square, NY.
There’s also great books on love by Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway and friends.
And you have poetry and plays and songs.
Love, a simple little thing that comes in all forms, creating the most beautiful art.
Yet, in that beauty of art which we need to survive, it is made with the most broken hearts that perhaps wish to die. Isn’t that a curious paradox then? Our survival for a broken heart now depends on the art we create from its brokenness.
Of course, not all art is made in despair. Some of my favourite poetries are filled with so much love that the permutations of a-z can barely contain its excitement. Hence, art.
Love,
L