not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

the importance of white space and the black muscle

while in a very artless setting at work i am moved to make art.  (please, deflate the word art of any ostentation and replace it with, i am moved with great passion to be in the world.)

i realize the key is, i am moved.

one must feel pressure to be moved from one place to another.  something must push against us or we must push against that something.  at work i am pushed by an artless world toward art.

(this exhibits itself in all aspects of our lives; we are pushed by violence to nonviolence;  we are pushed by solitude toward love; we are pushed by the modern state and profound avarice of man toward nature and a state of cleanliness and balance;  we are pushed by our living toward our death, by our death toward our living, and so on.)

while walking in the country the other day, one white farm field reduced by blowing snow after another, i was absolutely and fully attracted to the fence posts.  at points such as these being takes form.  they intercept the void and initiate the state of being.

silence and void.  white space and form.  it is sexual, what happens here.

why sexual and not sensual?

sensual is nice enough, attractive but passive.  sexual is the black muscle over the spinning place, the place where all things pass into and out of existence.

if we were faced with a world complete, condensed and whole, there would be no opportunity to be moved, there would be no momentum. (imagine only a white field.)  instead, we are granted such opportunity.

and so the whole has been divided and subdivided into places of void and form.  we move between them.  this is our birth,  our life, our living, our death.