My artMy art

Netiva CaftoriNetiva Caftori

ArtMy art belongs to me, just to me.

However, once it leaves my creative hand, it's as if the umbilical cord is cut,

and it begins a life of its own, making new friends, talking to new souls.

It may travel through hearts, or may be passed incognito by many, but if it captures the attention of one,

who wants to adopt it as own, it becomes the child or friend of that new art-lover

and leaves my nest for a life of its own.

PaintingMy hand moves as if it were independent of me.

I wonder how it knows where to go, what to paint. I see images in my mind's eye,

but my hand moves at a different pace, uncontrolled by me

My hand is like a young puppy, too eager to explore the world.

In time, I'll train it to follow my whims, to go where I choose,

and then I'll be known as a mature and seasoned artist,

whether or not a better one is questionable.

Creativity or Treasure island

I can't stop writing, can't stop painting, or

sculpting. I find solace in creativity. It is a journey within me,

a discovery tour of my interior.

I'm beautiful outside and in. My inside pours out,

My outside searches in. I'm swimming in obscure

waters, finding new lands.

I'm a treasure island known by very few

Robinson Crusoe is my name. Nov.1998

My father, My father, David CaftoriDavid Caftori; ; my first teachermy first teacher

Elliott Elliott BalterBalter, my mentor, my mentor