Friday, May 11, 2012

More thoughts on art, contact, and expression

Thanks for the response on the first day. Please, if you send me a comment, don't send it from an unknown account. The internet is a wonderful place, but when misused, as we're seeing a lot nowadays, it allows people to say things that, for one reason or another, they won't take responsibility for. I'm not one of them. If you make a comment as unknown, I will delete it. And, not pay much attention to it. All the rest are very welcome. I may even address them in one of my blogs. I don't know. This is new to me.

To continue my earlier thought, is there anything that we create that isn't inspired by, or affected by, our life experience? What we do is based on what we know, of our past, and of all the life around us, happening as you read this, and I write. Often, the difference in the work of an artist, and someone who pretends to be one, is what they know about life, consciously or intuitively. Not that this is a new thought. But, in the world we're living in, there is so much information telling us that we are machines, that we forget what being human is. Being bombarded with information, we defend ourselves, often, by going out of contact. It's very comfortable. It can also be deadening. And, deadly. For, in that contactless state of being, we can believe anything. Because, our senses can't tell the difference between what's real, and what isn't. This is frightening. Worse than any nightmare I can have. Of course, one can't be in contact all the time, we'd be exhausted and worn out very quickly. Isn't that part of what Post Traumatic Stress is? How does one stay in contact, and be able to defend oneself, be able to rest, so that we don't overload? It's a search for that peace and harmony that we spend many hours, and millions of dollars, on searching for. And, doing, when we think we have found it. For, after all, we want to remain alive. And, human. I've always believed that perfection is being the most human you can be. I learned that studying the lives of great human beings. Who, after all, seem to be more human than the rest of us.