Recently I have had to question the nature of blogging, satirical observations, creative alter-egos, and unwanted advice-giving. And then answer it.
It seems to me that art making and creative expression is paradoxical in manifold and complex ways — and always making one aware of the inescapable suffering caused by being human. It is truly a solitary, non-self-centered act, creating. But the work at its best is met with communion. And yet often neither happens. Ego.
I didn’t bring my favorite aesthetic philosophy books with me on vacation, but if I could dare butcher some pretty amazing dialogue from a favorite film, Tous Les Matins du Monde, and then loosely apply it to my mundane and shrively blog, and since it is my blog afterall, I will:
– You’ve found that music is not for kings. Music wishes to say things words cannot say, which is why it is not entirely human.
– Who does it wish to speak to? God?
– No, God can speak.
– For the ear, gold, glory, silence? Love?
– No. One must leave a drink for the dead; a refreshment for those who have run out of words. For a lost childhood. For the time before we were born, before we breathed. Or saw light. To wake the dead.
Today’s Advice: Write and make art for the dead. They are a forgiving audience.