Animus is an imagination-kindling realm of wonder
Rhyme & reason
As I explained at length in the previous post, the “Writers write” maxim these days should be revised to: writers try to write amidst the maelstrom of hype and trivial (albeit time-devouring) hassle bollixing up the creative process.” This precipitated the sad scenario whereby many-a-sub-par writer with superlative spin-doctor skills have advanced their careers rapidly through the ranks of the fickle industry. No, I’m not ‘just hattin’ ’, but stating a fact—while writers focus on writing, they are overtaken by people who focus on claiming (as publicly as possible) to write. For in the end, how many people bother to delve beneath the veneered surface? So, what can we take away from this unfortunate fact? Well, firstly, it has been clear for some time that the art world has been repeatedly assailed and undermined by self-proclaimed artists out to discombobulate the industry by breaking all the rules they are UNABLE to follow. I know, I know: rules are there to be broken and I respect, say, Pablo Piccasso. Although I may not be fond of his later, lauded works such as Gurnika, the man was indeed an artist able to draw properly prior to going off on his personal tangent. In a nutshell, when one has reached and mastered the pinnacle of one’s art by following the basic rules, THEN one is worthy and able to effectively explore and experiment with new directions. Having said that, I still think that “don’t crap where you eat” should be a rule of thumb even for ‘transcendent’ artists. Somehow I doubt that Stephen King’s works would benefit if he threw grammar, spelling and all rules of writing to the wind and wrote worse than a three year old. Self-respecting painters should, therefore, not stoop to create such nauseating garbage. That—just like everything else here is delivered ‘imho’, feel free to disagree. However, saying that Peter Paul Rubens and Salvador Dali were painters ‘just’ like Pollack and Rothko or that Frank O’Hara’s “Having a Coke with you” belongs on the same shelf as Kipling’s “If” is ludicrous and outright insulting, again, in my opinion. We have all written love notes and all can draw four approximate squares or splash paint splodges on a gigantic canvas with ‘techniques’ learned in under half an hour. Same applies to the magnificent works of Tolkien vs. vapid sagas of Harry Potter or Twilight—just because something is a financial success, does not make it ‘brilliant’. We should not confuse marketing genius with creative genius (however ‘creative’ the marketing ploy may be). Remember, most real artists died in poverty! So why are our doodles and idle scribbles not selling for millions of dollars? The answer is simple: spin. Being at the right place, at the right time and shocking the world with one’s unflinching, rabid tenacity, made even more grotesque in the light of one’s stark and utter artistic ineptitude. Since NO ONE really knows how to judge or evaluate art, exhausted ‘critics’ just might uphold the ugly duckling as the duckiest duck that ever did quack. The frenzied media will quickly pick up the freak show and the masses will be brainwashed into believing that these doodles should be hailed as the latest scream of art (and anyone who does not agree, simply doesn’t know what they are talking about). The sub-text of that message is so enthralling and the mass-effect so magnetic that pretty soon millions of people stand squinting to see the beauty in the beast and although they are all scared to admit it, none of them can quite make out the sense in the nonsense before them. However, many-an-oaf with more villas to their name than brain cells shells out millions for these monstrosities. I am not so naive as to assume all art must be pleasing to behold, heavens, no. I do, however, hold that art should radiate passion and evoke emotions besides disgust. It shouldn’t look like some random cat-sick, imo. At the end of the day, what is this ‘perceived’ value based upon? If I sneezed in a hanky and sold my creation at an auction to some lunatic for $10 million, would that create the value? How about if 10 critics sang praise to the ‘moody composition’ and ‘forceful delivery’? As I have said: in the land of idiots, the silly man is king! Well actually I hadn’t said it before on account of having just thought it up, but NOW I have. HA!