well, yeah, i get it. but that has so little, if anything,
to do with the working and breathing world of ART--
as opposed to the ARTWORLD.
the internet posts get very very righteous
regarding the collecting of art for investment. fuck it...
it happens, it's a part of the part of the whole and it means nothing.
period. it means nothing.
the people that have laid down good coin
for my work have done so with purpose-
aesthetic, romantic, whatever-- they liked the work.
they wanted to live with the work.
just as there are artists making real work-
believing in beauty and history and meaning
and trying to convey all of that in paint, on canvas--
there are the patrons- the collectors who share the same dream.
they want beauty and history and meaning
and they want to live with it. they want the passion
of a whacked out man or woman to share their space and their lives--
their oatmeal in the morning; their lunch;
their cognac and old book, so late at night.
and that reality
creates another kind of beauty.
* parenthood...cliches and stereotypes are great simply because of the inherent truth within... thats how they exist-- they were born from the truth we either talk about or sweep away with shame, or denial.
"it changes your life..."
i heard that shit so many times. well, yeah, i guess it does.
and yes, it does fuckin change your life. but i'm not talking about lost sleep and changing diapers, as opposed to bar crawling and shooting heroin--
i'm talking about ACTUALLY CHANGING YOUR LIFE--
you change, you evolve to a level closer to where we SHOULD BE
as intelligent, caring human beings.
just as smoking weed enhances the grace of activity--
be it food, sex, nature, music, art, what have you--
becoming a parent enhances the world around you
and your RELATIONSHIP to that world.
YOU SUDDENLY CARE MORE. YOU FEEL MORE.
YOU MAY CRY MORE- BUT FOR ALL THE BEST REASONS...
years ago i wrote (referencing my own debauched practices),
"...our suicides are slow and painfully accurate."
i firmly believe that the seekers
and the wanderers engage in a drawn out, lessened method of self destruction.
it's not the shotgun in the mouth or the handful of pills--
it's night in and night out and the fun and sin
and body odors and new beds and old streets
you have no business being on...
all of it takes you on and on
and gives you one more excuse to do
whatever it is that is so slowly and patiently taking you out.
i became a father to a wonderful, spiritual daughter--
at 8 months, she is a young lady of power and wit
and a certain, ill-gotten, albeit poetic, aggression...
i will say- flat out-- that i FEEL MORE
and indeed, KNOW MORE,
now with her guiding my way
through this sloppy,
she has changed my life.
and now i will try to live up to that gift.