Description
At the heart of our culture where billboards are rare,
All the pockets are empty, and our dreams have grown spare,
Their wallets are barren, but the artists are bold,
In a time when the arts are like trinkets, unsold.
"Who needs painted sunsets?" the markets declare,
Yet, the artist keeps painting the love he must share.
For he knows that a soul could be warmed by a hue,
A blanket of crimson on midnight's dark blue.
Down alleys, in shadows, musicians unite,
With tattered guitars under flickering lights.
The industry's flat, yet their spirits abound,
Exploring fresh sounds; forming new undergrounds.
They collaborate, innovate, melodies blend,
For music, they know, has no limit or end.
Their harmonies soar, flooding over the sheep,
And in those few notes, they've sown seeds we all reap.
The dancers assemble to make themselves known,
Their shoes are all frayed, with souls prone to groan.
But the beat of the drum calls out to them "SING!",
This poverty can't clip their spirited wings.
They dance to remember, they dance to forget,
Each movement expanding a darkening vignette.
Their bodies tell stories that words never could,
Of the resilience and resistance in their neighborhood.
So let's toast to the artists, musicians, and more,
Who celebrate life even when sales are poor.
For they are the proof, the resounding outcry,
That even in hardship, our spirits can fly.
Celebrate Tezos everyday, because everyday there are countless artists sharing their souls with you regardless of what profit they stand to make or how overlooked they become, and that is fucking beautiful.
910x512 px 24fps 67 sec loop
Sourced video clip from cc0 film "Narcotics:Pit of Despair",Edited using iMovie, Procreate, Videoleap, Beatleap, Photomosh
8 hours, August 2023
Created for "Celebrate Again" event on Tezos.