Here's a piece of converstation and some ideas that went through my head a couple years ago. I'm posting some of the old things I would write down in my sketch books about art and life.
From a converstation with a friend:
'It's only art if it sells.' I remember you saying that. That's bullshit. Because the world changes and so does the definition of art. In today's society, true art is what does not sell, and you cannot buy it.'
It is on days like this one, that a silence comes over me. It's hard to say what brings it on. Sometimes it's the weather, other times it's a failed attempt at art. I noticed that the older one gets, and the longer one's been in the game of creation, the failed attempts are in reality a coming to face with one's own incapabilities. Issues that one cannot over come by one's nature. On the other hand, it can also be a realization of one's own age and things that have been unaccomplished. Regardless, on days such as this, I am silent- not willing to utter a word or make another promise. It's a day of bitter conclusions.
I do little walks around Center City while I'm on my break from work. I love looking at different apartments and buildings, usually thinking how it would feel living in one of them. What would it be like listening to one of my favorite records, in that cool modern interior? But today, there was a slightly different thought in my head as I was looking at the insides. I thought to myself it would be nice to actually die in that sort of environment. Surrounded by good architecture, solid design, a general feeling of security; instead of a place that is a reflection of one's own demise. (That is if the person was to die in the slums, or the apartment that I live in now.) All the imperfection and the decay just adding to the probable feeling of nausea that accompanies death. So in case one cannot secure a preferable place of passing for himself, a faster way (such as by a cab, or out the window) is indeed advisable.
It's always hard for me to post stuff like this. I always have a fear of sounding "self-important" or too personal. But all these verbal exchanges on the blog lately, has made me a bit braver. I used to wirte a lot more but about a year ago I kinda stopped writting, both on my blog and in my sketchbooks.