"I’m never sure if the path I’m on is right. Never sure if the pigment is the right consistency, if the framing is good on a particular photograph. Doubt either leads to paralysis or a determination to keep looking. Doubt is man’s best friend after fear. It keeps one humble. That’s important for me."
"The idea that comes to mind when looking at the some of the best paintings and drawings, the best work really in all sorts of art forms, is that they embody an acknowledgment of their own imperfection. And this suggest humility, humanity, honesty. Life is off-kilter, unfinished, damaged...so, in a way, the best works are a manifestation, a mirror, of these aspects of life: not an idealization of one aspect (perhaps beauty), but an amalgamation of the mistakes and corrections of a journey or process."
Atmosphere.
Buried and exhumed.
Fragility.
Broken-ness.
Phantom systems.
Layers, erasures, mistakes, retractions, regrets, exultations.
Manifestations of doubt.
An incident in a bucolic field.
Distilation. Dispersion. Decay. Delineation.
Alchemy.
Artifacts, terrain, amulet.
Blood, earth, ash, moss, mud, milk.
Subterranean.
Gray, the color of doubt.
Enchantment.
Seepage.
Fissure.
Buried and exhumed.
Fragility.
Broken-ness.
Phantom systems.
Layers, erasures, mistakes, retractions, regrets, exultations.
Manifestations of doubt.
An incident in a bucolic field.
Distilation. Dispersion. Decay. Delineation.
Alchemy.
Artifacts, terrain, amulet.
Blood, earth, ash, moss, mud, milk.
Subterranean.
Gray, the color of doubt.
Enchantment.
Seepage.
Fissure.
Michael Napper
What will be the physiognomy of painting, of poetry, of music, in a hundred years? No one can tell. As after the fall of Athens, of Rome, a long pause will intervene, caused by the exhaustion of conciousness itself. Humanity, to rejoin the past, must invent a second naivete, without which the arts can never begin again.
E.M. Cioran, The Trouble with Being Born
What will be the physiognomy of painting, of poetry, of music, in a hundred years? No one can tell. As after the fall of Athens, of Rome, a long pause will intervene, caused by the exhaustion of conciousness itself. Humanity, to rejoin the past, must invent a second naivete, without which the arts can never begin again.
E.M. Cioran, The Trouble with Being Born
I am drowning.
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