Some thoughts from my stream-of-consciousness writings, while I’m being held hostage by The Artist’s Way morning pages:
I am thinking heavily about my new art piece that I am working through, my metronome piece, imagining what could be. I find so often that we are so judged on what we’ve done thus far, not on what we could do, what we have the potential to do. This causes people to not invest in helping those that [are solely] aspir[ing] to do great things[,] because they have not yet “proven” themselves. I think I might want to explore themes of “what could have been” and “what could be.” Yes, I can see why it’s impossible to do these morning pages and not find a stroke of genius. I think we all have a stroke of genius inside. It’s all about waking up the sleeping mind inside to access the ideas. Man, if I ever become a famous artist, this is certainly what I’d say in an interview and people would see me as quite an intellectual! A trailblazer! With a penchant for verbalizing what we all know inside but it’s all such bullshit, you know. It’s just appropriated from fantasy texts. Maybe there’s some art to be made there. “Convey bullshit about art using fantasy texts” [(by texts, I mean books)] or “Turn cheap, low culture fiction into high art.” I guess that’s what Andy Warhol was doing or something. He was really onto something then. Now, I too have reached enlightenment and seek to disrupt the art world. These conceptual artists seem to try to break apart from the status quo, to become a leader, but I feel like in reaching similar revelations, I am simply: a follower.
But aren’t we all disciples, learning from those before us, never creating anything truly new? I’m not sure I mind [that] ideas are recycled in this manner. I consider appropriation to still be art, even if people would like to claim ownership over their works. When I make a painting of a Van Gogh, it is still its own painting. Although, when I make a Sol LeWitt, I suppose it would also be his to claim and I would give proper attribution. Perhaps these artists were onto something then, with the idea [(by idea, I mean concept)] being the final product, rather than what you are left with.
I’d like to be rich off ideas.
When did I begin to harbor ideas of what is or isn’t art or original art? When did I begin to wax poetic, like I know anything?
I don’t think I’m a very good artist but do good artists ever?
I hate how so many people define “good art” by aesthetics but who am I to say ideas are a higher form of art? They’re not even a corporeal currency.
And yet, I can’t help it by finding it more beautiful to create and push art forward with something as fleeting and everlasting and simple and complex and constant and dynamic as an idea.