The artist is taciturn, he’s subtle, he’s monochromatic
Why doesn’t the artist speak?
The artist speaks, of course, he does

He speaks, he shouts, he sings, he cries, he bellows, he laughs, he mocks, he questions, he answers

The artist speaks through his art
The art is loud, it’s bold, it’s jarring
The art says more than words, spoken or written

The art shouts while the world remains silent
The art sings, more melodic than song
The art, it cries out for muzzled pain and stifled sorrow
The art bellows without a sound
The art laughs and tickles and squeals
The art, it mocks: you, me, the world, and its own misery, in irony
The art questions; uncomfortable, inconvenient, heavy, forceful, pregnant, unrelenting questions
The art answers

The art speaks more than the artist ever could
Without his art

~New Nomad