I am considering talking about Charles Bukowski, Janice Joplin, liberty. A friend said recently that art exists on three levels. The first is if you are learning your media, your techniques, your tools. The second is when you’ve bonded together with your media and are concentrated on design, article, etc.. Most art is at these two levels. But essentially, these levels are like dead bodies. It’s possible to dissect them analyze and classify them use them as illustrations. You can even rearrange the parts to make something new since it doesn’t matter. They’re or dead or alive slot machine.
The third degree is when the job comes alive. It breathes. Then none of it matters. It could be severely disabled, or radically lovely, or unbelievably intelligent and its the same. It is exactly what it is. It is alive. At this phase, technique, article, everything goes out the window as, finally, all those things are insignificant.
This is a great way to check at it a complicated thing mentioned in a simple manner. Either its dead or its breathing. That of course throws a lot of my ranting from the window. Dead or alive. Pretty simple.
But here is the thing. I love these. They’re my colors exactly,” and intellectuals who wouldn’t understand a brand new idea if it smacked them round the nose, does it matter? My children love Zombies. The thought of these gives me nightmares. Don’t you have to be living to understand life?
Years ago, some friends and I would wander up Canyon Road in Santa Fe. We’d get to the very top and beverage several margaritas so we might be sober enough to walk back down. We spoke about creating Baa (Bad Art Association). We would have small stickers of sheep and every time we watched a job that has been dreadful, or an environment which killed good artwork, we’d tag it. No excuse. No justification. Just Baa. Like sheep. But then, finally, we didn’t have the guts. We determined that it wouldn’t be fair to all the artists that were trying their very best. We would not need to undermine their imagination.
Then, Friday this week, at an opening of especially good job, I talked with a gallery owner/artist concerning the show, the company, about work that communicates. We talked about the market as well as its affect on the business, and the way all of the hangers on (galleries and artists), all of the ones who jumped on the band wagon, are likely to drop by the wayside and just what is good will survive. He talked about February this year and the way he needs to get that close to the edge again. Said where he came out (Cuba, I think) daily was February, 2009 and when you were not great, “I mean really good,” you did not make it.