The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.
Young bucket never thought anything about all the filling up and emptying out that he did. It was very hard work and he dreaded it everyday. However, he felt that was his duty in his bucket life. It never occurred to him that if he did it another way it might be easier, better, and even make him feel good. He just did it over and over, never really contemplating what choices there were in his bucket world.
His bucket friends in his little town moved on and found interesting new methods of filling and emptying their buckets. One bucket learned how fill himself in such a manner that he quickly multiplied and he somehow managed to fill all his buckets and many of his friends andfamilies buckets too! Young bucket felt jealous of this successful bucket and did not want to talk to him any longer. He wondered why “that” bucket had all the luck in life. A bucket’s life is sure unfair he said to himself. So that his how this bucket dealt with his life. He felt jealous of other buckets and what they had. He kept telling himself things like; “if only my life were different”, “I will never had that kind of bucket life”, “that bucket has everything given to them”, and, “I wish it were that easy for me.”
Every time a friend would suggest trying a new method of filling or emptying his bucket, young bucket came up with an excuse as to why he can’t fill it that way.
Many years passed in the young bucket’s life. He soon became a middle aged bucket, then eventually senior citizen bucket. After a long hard life and feeling bad about himself and feeling resentment of what life had dealt him. The bucket no longer felt joy in filling up and emptying himself. But at the same time he could not bring himself to change, and venture from his familiar bucket life, it was just too comfortable.