Monday, February 8, 2010

remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting

If you were all alone in the universe with no one to talk to, with no one with which to share the beauty of the stars, to laugh with, to touch, what would be your purpose in life? It is other life, it is love, which gives your life meaning. This is harmony. We must discover the joy of each other, the joy of challenge, the joy of growth.

We waste too much time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.

And it's not always easy and it doesn't always end well. Sometimes, it does, though. Sometimes, it ends alright. You know what they say. Shit happens. Sometimes, that's a good thing. And even when it doesn't end well, and first, you are afraid you'd die, then that you wouldn't-- heartbreak is like spending a season in Hell and not knowing why you were there.

I got a commission for a painting that is being auctioned off at my old uni for a benefit art auction for the Vagina Monologues V-day campaign. the inspiration was 'venus di milo' obviously, and I have been jokingly referring to the piece as 'Venus di Milosilocybin' but it is yet untitled and already sent off to auction. Some changes were made since I took this photo. She's now blindfolded. I might go to the auction and buy the piece back. I like it that much and it fits in nicely with a series I've been working on for a long time. Is that gauche?

Oh, you didn't know I was a painter?!?! Well, I am.

and these are examples of some of my favorites from my personal collection.
You see where the new work would fit in with the theme.

Enjoy this metaphor:
How to draw a picture:
1. Start with a blank surface. It doesn't need to be paper or a canvas, but I feel it should be white. We call it 'white' because we need a word, but its true name should be 'nothing.' Black is the absence of light, but white is the absence of memory. White is the color of 'I can't remember.' How do we remember to remember?  That is a question I've asked myself often in the small hours of the morning. After all, remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting. Looking up into the absence of light...remembering absent friends. 
Sometimes, in those little hours, I think about the horizon. You have to establish the horizon. You have to mark the white. A small enough action, but any action that attempts to remake the work is heroic, or so I've come to believe. 
The horizon is a slot for blackness to pour through. Imagine the courage it takes to mark the white. The courage it takes to re-imagine the world by picturing it. Pictures are magic, you know.

In spite of all the damage that can follow, I think writing and art are the best ways for a person who is trying not to be sad anymore to remember how to be happy. 

I think that's a very good thing.

1 comment:

Scarlett said...

Ohhh, I had no idea you were a painter! These are beautiful!!


My photo
Model citizen. Badass.


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