The Reality of the Muse

Metamorphosis of a Damsel Fly
© Zian Silverwolf
People are often intrigued by the source of an artist's perspective, and as I tell any who ask, it's all about observation and imagination. But there's an element that is often disregarded by the public as little more than a literary conceit, and that is the muse. 

Every now and then.... well, every decade or so, if you're lucky, you meet someone who is a natural inspiration, not a pretender or someone who needs to be influential, just a person with a wide streak of love for life, who is willing to share it.
I have spent the past few years watching the internet and the work of others with a rather jaded eye, with few exceptions; it's an occupational hazard both as a mystic and an artist to delve deep at the instant of perusal, and most superficial constructs fall by the wayside at the moment of consumption.
However, when I'm confronted by ideas and realities that I have yet to examine in any detail, such moments are vivid and persuasive in their nature, and enough to motivate the creative instinct to not only describe, but also to reinvent through superimposition of my own perceptions and experiences, as well as my initial purpose to create.
The source of such ideas and notions is often bound in the natural character of "the muse" - the personality and being of a person who is identifiable in their own tastes and instincts as a bridge between the reality and the imagination; in parallel to the tastes and instincts of the artist.
© Zian Silverwolf
There is no attempt, no pretence, no concerted effort to try, just an effortless state of being that is infused with an autonomy and independence that isn't about wanting to affect the artist - the muse simply is, simply exists for their own purpose, and thus is ideally effective in their influence.

The intention is compatible; the decision to indulge, share and communicate in thought, feeling and image - it is impossible to mimic, or manufacture. And for the artist, it is akin to divine intervention, surfacing from the deluge of saccharine and sanitized ideology, the clinical petrification of social deification and the decay of meaning, to show life in its intimate beauty, before artifice and cynicism can shadow it in its blight.

It is the concern and responsibility of the fantasy artist to allow true beauty to endure even in its manipulation, to depict spirit and consciousness in the elemental, as an expansion and insight into the greater construction of any given aspect of life. It is not a delight in whimsy or frivolity that allows such images to be created, but the courage of the observer to deviate from the truthful norms of the crowd in order to communicate such inspiration in turn.

Related links:
Dryad on Red Bubble