I’ve run out of shit to write about, but as you can see, I do not let that stop me. Maybe being this stubborn has its merits, maybe not.. I do not care either way! Do not care about good or bad, only concerned with the act itself. Remaining neutral this way, I find myself more concerned with what is on my mind and less with the process and its preconceptions. Unconcerned with the reader; this is where the best of the best is, but also the worst of the worst.. The unknown, the risk, this is where art lives.. It pains me, to see modern day art, rooted in safety and lacking originality. To be more concerned with the finance and less with the risk of losing it all, even going as far as entirely removing risk from creation.
Without risk, the act of creation becomes.. Processed. Certainty dulls the razors edge, leaving the things purpose of being sharp and changing it into a dullness that still retains the name of the razor, but cuts nothing, shaves nothing, as we wish to believe that this certainty is the same as the uncertainty that once accompanied great art.
Art and certainty have no place together. They say “Go to School!”, forgetting that they attempt to use this certainty to entrench themselves in uncertainty. They believe we discuss the same subject, when we do not. They believe their certainty brings them success and it does, as they flee from uncertainty, calling their fear anything other than what it is.. I call your successes, failure, because they breed no growth, only retention and process. Roots. How dare you call yourself an artist, while living a life rooted in certainty.