Badger
Upon reading my last blog, someone with whom I am intimately
related took moral issue with its content. This person criticized me for my
fiscal irresponsibility and cited my rage, guilt, and hatred as being the root
of that fiscal irresponsibility. This, of course, triggered my entire
life-thus-far dilemma, wherein approval of my talent, skill, knack, and
creativity has been confined within the parameters of social niceties and
norms. All things provocative were immediately dismissed. In short, the execution
of technique was the measure of art, and its tameness was its treasure.
I know this is all elemental, but I’m eyeball to eyeball
with this monster right now so come with me or click away.
The college I attended was the epitome of this wretched philosophy.
It was renowned as a fine arts school. The art students were able to replicate
in paint or ink with near photographic precision. The English majors could
construct and deconstruct sentence structure with rare eloquence. The musicians’
in depth knowledge of theory matched their instrumental and vocal technical
prowess.
However, their repertoire of artistic subjects was limited
to choice classical reproductions, religious doctrinal delineations, portraits,
and still life mimicry. There was soul, but it was the strangled topiary soul
that leers at us all today in the mainstream media, Hollywood, pop music, pornography,
fast food, Walmart, Costco, suburbia, Ikea, fashion, orthodoxy, excuse me
whilst I mop up my own stark vomit…
The content, flawlessly executed, was formulaic, contrived,
G-rated, crucifixion fixated, unoriginal crap. Those who were critical of its
deadness were judged as insensitive, while the orchestrated numbness pervaded
the campus like a yeast infection.
The Witness
If art is not provocative it is dead. Forget art, if
religion isn’t provocative it is dead. If we want to live we must challenge,
confront, and grapple. We must terrorize and assault. Life is a narrow bridge.
It is a battlefield. Creation is violent.
The ferocity with which we play with life merits our favor
amongst the stars. See how the Sun burns against the blackness of space. The
stars sing and hum with intent volition in light of all that darkness. The
clouds do not drift; they swim hard against the variant barometric pressures.
Trees and all green things force their claws against gravity. They dig their
roots down in earnest. The animals burn in their presence. Their silence is
ever ready to explode into snarls, shrieks, and the frantic efficacy of survival.
All stones are fervent. Destruction is the foundation of existence.
Art’s provocation is a threat to outworn forms. It is as
destructive as it is creative. It is the consuming fire that throws off heat
and light.
Is my art irresponsible and immoral? I certainly hope so.
Keep watching.
i feel like you would like malcomlm gladwell
ReplyDelete