Mmm. Your keen observation is wanting in leniency! But however starkingly correct you are, and the artist's propriety consequently tarnished, his psychology demystified, his individuality annulled—I'm sure you didn't mean it so harshly, Greenberg. — Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Perhaps a different perspective from a different camp might be of use? Firstly, to be fair, we have to admit that certain procedures in art remain hidden in the back room, accessible only to a select few—inspiration is not the only ingredient at work in an artist's studio. The artist requires huge amounts of motivation, incentive, drive, since he can’t rely on institutions or protocols or bureaucracy to manage his impulses. The artist is also atypically acute in his observations; sensitive to miniscule nuance; introspective to the point of inertia; apart and isolated, thus estranged to conventional correctness. A stranger in a strange land, on the outside looking in, the exotic beast, thinking outside the box—clichés that are all quite appropriate. But consider that an artist requires a certain temperament to make art, and that his temperament hinges on his well being. So what is "well being"? Isn't well being simply an accessibility to being? Therefore an artist must have access to himself, not stray away from himself. But alas, "himself" is also completely and relentlessly surrounded by "themselves"—society. And from society's long sticky tentacles, its controversies and intricacies and dissatisfactions inflicted are much too often lopsided, unreasonable, skewed, sick, and tyrannical. But the artist isn't always immune. So given that the artist is prone to excessive sensitivity and introspection, his hurt—or joy or lust or boredom—derived from society’s influence will also be excessive to the point of exfuckingexplosion. As the philosopher, incidentally, the artist lives his stuff thoroughly. But the artist needs fodder, subject matter, sources for his inspiration: mood, thought, arrangements, models. And from where are these determined? From the exposure of an—his—external world. But there’s disadvantage in his temperament if in conflict, especially worst if society’s bitter fruit is involved because society shows no bloody mercy to the stranger in a strange land—complications derived from society are guaranteed to fester: must an artist then compromise himself to the point of being utterly ridiculous and while away the time for things to brighten? Or does he carry on as his hierarchy demands and incorporate society's bitter fruit onto himself, into his creative process, into his passion? Ultimately, the infliction society imposes will either save or destroy him. It's a dangerous game. So it's no wonder really that an artist will at some point purge himself and hand back to society the bitter monster of his labor. And in doing so, ironically, the artist remains immorally on topic! But the monster is no longer grotesque, is it? A hybrid between heaven and hell. Huh. The artist’s vengeance. But also consider that “the public” is not the artist’s public. The artist’s public is so much more: reality of existence as witnessed by the heavens. And the artist rejoices in reality—his reality. Ah, but one can incorporate any choice stimuli as an agent to one’s sacred causes—as the artist, often desperately or grumpily, does with... society.
Harshly? Perhaps. There is a rift, a disconnect between art(ists) and the public, is it not? And this rift or disonnect is made wider by both ends chipping away at the edges or gnawing on the communication channels: when art(ists) send(s) the public the message "Look at (your) lacks, (your) stupidities, (your) uglinesses, (your) denials" and when the public replies "That's just your vision, not who we really are, or how things really are". The relationship between art(ists) and the public might work out if the two were compassionate to each other — like they might have been sometime around the times of cave paintings. But nowadays, with the strict separation of the "subjective" and the "objective", the relationship between art(ists) and the public is doomed: Art(ists) is (are) not compassionate: it (they) charge for the art. The public is not compassionate: it pays for the art. — What pearls are made of. I wonder though if oysters ever choke on their pearls, if those pearls ever become too big.
But with such suave, one doesn't mind. The public? The public isn't a deciding factor here, and never was—human nature is. The public is an institutionalized compound, consisting of many individuals—and many more individuals who are not so individual. So does art cater to the many individuals who are not so individual but identify themselves as a humongous mouthpiece chanting about the latest rave? Or does art benefit the individual who identifies himself with something a lot more ancient: human nature? However, it's odd that a cultural society—not its public—will appreciate and respond to the various expressions of human nature. Thus has art cunningly survived throughout history. For whose benefit? The public's? And what would art, by winning the public's blessing, get in return? Ratings? Censorship? A warm cozy feeling deep down inside? I don't think the public would buy art even if it had the extra cash. But modern capitalism is certainly the public's bastard.
this to me is art: Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Yeah—art has many faces as it has many perspectives. And to be affirmative about certain art pieces should indicate a personal relationship with those perspectives. So I gather Escher's labyrinths either stimulate your imagination or puts it in order. ... Actually, I'm sort of feeling displaced *in an orderly sort of way* myself these days!
From 4 to 6 years ago. Do you think I could sell them? I'm planning to make wood sculptures of some of these.
thank you well to tell you the truth you art is very well drawn and you obviously are a master...but it is art itself that scares me...to say the least.