death/life/art

A rather morbid, yet interesting thought struck me, spurned by the discussion of waxing ovaries. I have interesting OLF. *laugh*

Anyhow, I went off, wondering what an ovary really looks like. And I realized, all the pictures would be bloody and - violent - somehow - not looking at the organs themselves as things of rich color and beauty, but instead as either dead or diseased things.

I would love to see Organ Art. Where there are galleries of what our insides look like - artistic and beautiful, a few steps removed from the violence that exposed them and reduced to the beauty that they are.

So, I decided that ovaries were delicate pink almonds - smooth and soft, the color of the inside of your eyelid. Occasionally bumpy - but mostly delicate fragile nubs, suspended by cords of ligament and vein in a dark, warm space.

*sigh* I wish I was a better artist. I have these - visions - in my mind, and I have no idea how to translate them to something - tangible.

Dreams into reality.... isn't that the real job of this life? Turning what we desire/aspire to into what we are....and what greater task than to live up to what we COULD be?

Hrm. Is our destiny in life to be artists? Creators of something beyond the limits of ourselves?

Gah. I'm babbling (see, new bloglove!) but... I'm glad to be getting it out.