Monday, August 1, 2011

Stream of Consciousness (An Exercise in Narcissism)

Some visual artists have a wonderful tool that they employ to explain certain ways of making art. This tool is that of unfiltered artistic impulse, necessity, action, gesture, exorcism, expression and whatever else. This type of artist had their peak from the early 20th century till about the 1970s but even after this time there was and still is freshly ordained gestural geniuses that bless us ordinaries with their gifts. Most of these geniuses are men. Go figure. The few that are women are brutally disqualified because they have the biology to actually incubate life, which is just too easy compared to creating something like art. Am I being overly acerbic about this? Maybe a touch.

It is true there are actual geniuses that operate as artists. There are those that are born with certain talents, certain ways of seeing, imagining, creating ideas and translating that to form that does or can interact with space and time and perhaps audience. Being in the face of such work is moving. Rare, but moving. Art is not as easy as non-art people think it is. It is like anything else that requires absolutely no guidelines yet is simultaneously dictated by a history, rhetoric, power structure and economy that insists on knowing better. I always liken being an artist to choosing to be a monk: the shit is brutal but liberating. Very few should take the calling because it’s not about wanting to be an artist it’s about being one and willing to be holed up all alone with your thoughts and neurosis. Maybe that is overly romantic, yes true, but anyone who is slogging it as an artist knows it’s not all galas and smoochy smooch and sleeping with this someone to get you to some where. Well it is, sometimes, but those who practice that will be minor courtesies in the big art book in the sky.

So what’s the point of this nonsensical rant? I don’t know. It’s just something that’s been latching onto my brain from time to time. As an exercise in commemoration, disgruntled disregard and all around grasping for something to write about this week I will use this platform to purge some demons of my sub-conscious (wait isn’t that what I’m already doing?) No but honestly, I will endeavor to “free my mind” and “release” all the prattling marbles clicking in my head for but a bit. Writers, poets mostly, exercise the same tool as visual artists in this regard. It’s all a farce, it’s all a guffaw, it’s just for shits and giggles and a make out sessions with ones own vanities but this is okay since this is the nature of things sometimes.

Please forgive any misspellings, vulgarity, name-calling or grammar. The below will remain unedited.

Typed on July 30, 2011 at 10:48am Eastern Time:

Forget it got it okay now what. Feel like a pickle. Makybe it will get better tofay. I hope that the sun is out I think that the fan is dirty.

Where should I go noew?

I am missing a cat she is gone. That’s okay

Its’ not as bad as I thought it would be

Nothing is as bad as you think it will be.

Perhaps war. Perhaps things like that

Drones. They talked of drones on the radio. I am hating this radio.

Talky talk. Why do people own birds? Seems so meaningless to have a bird

Why not just get a cat? Or a small bog? Birds are weird

Marclay won the things at Venice. Her is good. I think that he has a nice look. Skinny and his hair is stil okay and he wears black. I wonder if he has a gf or a wife or a bf or a lover or what his sexual deal is.

There is nothing like cartoons. Must control this auto correct. Fuck it. Found jesus. Jo

At the time it seemed like a good idea. Will I ever get a drink with you? Will we ever hold hands? Time time time is the things that makes this better.


Before it goes. . eoe. I don’t know what to say today. It’s a ll a lie. Made fore the ben


Jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjamie saorry

It is blank. I feel sad.


Oh well

Going to go to the beach. The ocean will make me feel better. The waves are okay. Something makes the waves go. It is weird that people like the sun and the moon. Hey id the moon a women? Wheny wo they day man on the moon ?? it is a girl.

Something about bloof. I don’t fucking care.

Time to ofo go teo. There it is. Alf. He was a ghitng. I loke cartoons. I wish that Garfield was still on tv. HATE #D oj. Bagels bagesl. Bacon and eggs. Pigs are cute. Why do people eat pigs? It’s like eating a very smart dog. Crazy people. We are making everything bad. I wish I would eat icecream. I get ick when I eat ice cream. I can eat yogurt though. Goats are werid.

Thank you for coming. Fuck off. Godd day. Pelaseure was all mince. Toodles.