I like life well enough to want to live it awake, and so, in the very midst of my riches, I maintain the sensation of a state of precariousness, by which means I aggravate, or at any rate intensify, my life. I will not say I like danger, but I like life to be hazardous, and I want it to demand at every moment the whole of my courage, my happiness, my health.
Oh I know, I know. I just have to make a post about Mark Tansey.
* M. Tansey – The Judgement of Paris
read on ->
*R. Landfield – The Blue Whale
Alright, this time it’s on the topic of art as a quest of looking for a missing object (MacGuffin!). You remember Moby Dick, the major achievement of this genere, you might know Pynchon’s V, which is most clever as you can’t really tell if the precious, saught-after V was an object, a person or even an idea.
The point is that it’s all auto-referencial art, these are works of art that speak about art itself. Artists create those fictional worlds to tell you about their own amazing investigations, not some real, lost objects. I mean it doesn’t concern just people looking for something but it presents the essence of art, meaning artistic search for the perfect work of art. The one that catches this magical ingredient to the fullest extend.
‘I should be afraid of preventing the future and of allowing the past to encroach on me. It is out of the utter forgetfulness of yesterday that I create every new hour’s freshness.
Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that’s the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there.