Veronica27
11-17-2008, 11:26 PM
According to Webster's dictionary, the primary definition of art is "the production, expression or realm of what is beautiful". We observe beauty in many ways. Our eyes see it in people, pets, gardens, wildlife and nature. Our ears hear it in music, the wind, the oceans waves and so on. We can also taste, touch and smell beauty, but it is much more than these basic senses. There is also beauty in certain emotions, moods and feelings. The artist attempts to capture the various forms of beauty and express it in his paintings, music, poetry, sculpture or literature.
The crossdresser is also expressing beauty. Sure, he tries to make himself look as gorgeous as possible, but it is more than that. There is a beauty in femininity that we all too often fail to appreciate. The crossdresser senses this more than most folks, male or female, and his artistic temperament has a need to express what he is feeling through his own artistic medium, himself.
One of America's greatest composers was Stephen Foster, who sadly, has become all but forgotten because America wants to distance itself from the era in which he lived. Many of his lyrics speak volumes about the beauty he observed, not only in the women he loved but which also shone through the struggles of the people he cared for. The lyrics to "My Old Kentucky Home", "Old Dog Tray" and "Old Black Joe" are particularly poignant. One of my personal favourites captures the feeling of femininity I feel when I crossdress and allow my mind to explore the beauty of the feminine experience.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.
Hush! let her sleep! I pray, sweet breeze,
Breathe low on the maple bough!
Hush! bright bird, on her window trees!
For sweetly she sleepest now.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek like the first May rose,
Sweetly she sleeps, and all her care
Is forgotten in soft repose.
Hush! though the earliest beams of light
Their wings in the blue sea dip,
Let her sleep, I pray, while her dreams are bright,
And a smile is about her lip.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.
The crossdresser is also expressing beauty. Sure, he tries to make himself look as gorgeous as possible, but it is more than that. There is a beauty in femininity that we all too often fail to appreciate. The crossdresser senses this more than most folks, male or female, and his artistic temperament has a need to express what he is feeling through his own artistic medium, himself.
One of America's greatest composers was Stephen Foster, who sadly, has become all but forgotten because America wants to distance itself from the era in which he lived. Many of his lyrics speak volumes about the beauty he observed, not only in the women he loved but which also shone through the struggles of the people he cared for. The lyrics to "My Old Kentucky Home", "Old Dog Tray" and "Old Black Joe" are particularly poignant. One of my personal favourites captures the feeling of femininity I feel when I crossdress and allow my mind to explore the beauty of the feminine experience.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.
Hush! let her sleep! I pray, sweet breeze,
Breathe low on the maple bough!
Hush! bright bird, on her window trees!
For sweetly she sleepest now.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek like the first May rose,
Sweetly she sleeps, and all her care
Is forgotten in soft repose.
Hush! though the earliest beams of light
Their wings in the blue sea dip,
Let her sleep, I pray, while her dreams are bright,
And a smile is about her lip.
Sweetly she sleeps, my Alice fair,
Her cheek on the pillow pressed,
Sweetly she sleeps, while her Saxon hair,
Like sunlight, streams o'er her breast.