we look up, and we're squinting at the sun. we lay back into the grass, and feel relief.
such veiled eyes are those of the self proclaimed artists.
i used to turn my head from people who didnt think like me.
it turns you into a corner, face first. with only your silly little place in time to look at.
aggravated, and self righteous.
yesterday harrison and i talked about the labor of a gift, and the fruits of ones expression living up to the expectations of ones art. while talking to him, something that i heard a long time ago became perfectly vivid and clear;
"an artist should always be in a perpetual state of becoming." - big bad bob dylan.
the idea of existential art and the premise of my entire philosophy means there should never be expectations. only expect endless creativity.
in an artists lifetime, he will never be the best he can be, because he is always driving foreword.
now, i woke up this morning, completely unscathed by the reality that was so ridiculous to me 24 hours ago. i read about the failure of modern art, and the despicable state that the world is in right now, artistically speaking.
and i think, maaaaaaybe, im coming closer to a realization. some kind of epiphany. the vision of what it was that weve lost.
sounds crazy. but thats what this journals for.
my chosen profession is to find whatever beauty is left in this world.
i used to turn my head from people who didnt think like me.
it turns you into a corner, face first. with only your silly little place in time to look at.
aggravated, and self righteous.
yesterday harrison and i talked about the labor of a gift, and the fruits of ones expression living up to the expectations of ones art. while talking to him, something that i heard a long time ago became perfectly vivid and clear;
"an artist should always be in a perpetual state of becoming." - big bad bob dylan.
the idea of existential art and the premise of my entire philosophy means there should never be expectations. only expect endless creativity.
in an artists lifetime, he will never be the best he can be, because he is always driving foreword.
now, i woke up this morning, completely unscathed by the reality that was so ridiculous to me 24 hours ago. i read about the failure of modern art, and the despicable state that the world is in right now, artistically speaking.
and i think, maaaaaaybe, im coming closer to a realization. some kind of epiphany. the vision of what it was that weve lost.
sounds crazy. but thats what this journals for.
my chosen profession is to find whatever beauty is left in this world.