A thing past
”..We feel lonely now and then and long for friends and think we should be quite different and happier if we found a friend of whom we might say: “He is the one.” But you, too, will begin to learn that there is much self-deception behind this longing; if we yielded too much to it, it would lead us from the road.
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh Paris, January 1876..”
Another thing that underscores my practice is a sense of spaces of necessary isolation and withdrawal opening up. I give in with poor grace. In the deleted sessions, which I’ve been reading on and off this week, Seth speaks of withdrawal at times, as being necessity for their work together.
How can I elaborate on it- its abstract but palpable, the pull has colour and tone, it can’t be dried and crumbled and made into pigment, (though it would be better for me if it could). I desire to make the substance of my emotional response to the pull, into colour, literally.
I think -what is my practise if not a journey into personal myth, history and ambiguity? Which I construct as I go. In observing myself I change what I see.There is an absence of objective self to find. Practise is a type of self-portrait always incomplete and inadequate. But still sublime
“The only method of being in the world and not of it is being an artist.” Anselm Kiefer
Anselm is another man of intensities and I begin to think that the intensities that breed certain types of creativity can only thrive in some type of solitariness. Whether that is the solitary of the couple, such as Rob and Jane or the individual, the one, such as Vincent. The latter did have a sense of commonality with other artists but he was not the social animal of Picasso or Pollock. I think I see parallels in the lives of some of histories great mystics, perhaps it’s a necessary phase, not emergence but deeper invergence , introspections which infold deeper into and through the event of mySelf and the unknown reality and deep memories of self of the species. Anselm has also spoken of grand time-geological time and the more recent human time. Yet he says that the memories of deep time exist. Though he does not make that leap that I do that since the body comprises the stuff of the earth, geological time memories are implicated with the construction of the body.
Somewhere in the material Seth talks about following a thought, watching it as it goes-where into –but where. And there is the probing for memories, following oneself –back. Into the known unknown. Of necessity there is a deeper turning away from FW1.Not an exclusion of it.
Anslem says again
“The palette is always in danger, art is always on the edge”
So what is the truth of practice? A minor flirtation or an edgy risky endeavor. I’ll admit that there wass something naive in my approach to TSM, it has the painters equivalent of adopting an emotional palette of soft pastels, misty eyed and filled with wonder. Mystical awe inspired soft sighs and prayers to the beatific.
Yet I would never paint in such an emotionally stultifying fashion. I would never inflict the bordom of a pastel palete upon myself.
Anslem speaks of everyone being at the star center of their personal celestial and everyone having a history, which is ‘personal’. But that history I know extends into the future, extends in all directions, including sideways. Its harder for me to think of my history as something ‘past’ unless I am a ‘thing past’ an event after the fact of me. Practise could open pandoras box and I find that it is the memory of me that writes these words.That my star has already gone nova.
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh Paris, January 1876..”
Another thing that underscores my practice is a sense of spaces of necessary isolation and withdrawal opening up. I give in with poor grace. In the deleted sessions, which I’ve been reading on and off this week, Seth speaks of withdrawal at times, as being necessity for their work together.
How can I elaborate on it- its abstract but palpable, the pull has colour and tone, it can’t be dried and crumbled and made into pigment, (though it would be better for me if it could). I desire to make the substance of my emotional response to the pull, into colour, literally.
I think -what is my practise if not a journey into personal myth, history and ambiguity? Which I construct as I go. In observing myself I change what I see.There is an absence of objective self to find. Practise is a type of self-portrait always incomplete and inadequate. But still sublime
“The only method of being in the world and not of it is being an artist.” Anselm Kiefer
Anselm is another man of intensities and I begin to think that the intensities that breed certain types of creativity can only thrive in some type of solitariness. Whether that is the solitary of the couple, such as Rob and Jane or the individual, the one, such as Vincent. The latter did have a sense of commonality with other artists but he was not the social animal of Picasso or Pollock. I think I see parallels in the lives of some of histories great mystics, perhaps it’s a necessary phase, not emergence but deeper invergence , introspections which infold deeper into and through the event of mySelf and the unknown reality and deep memories of self of the species. Anselm has also spoken of grand time-geological time and the more recent human time. Yet he says that the memories of deep time exist. Though he does not make that leap that I do that since the body comprises the stuff of the earth, geological time memories are implicated with the construction of the body.
Somewhere in the material Seth talks about following a thought, watching it as it goes-where into –but where. And there is the probing for memories, following oneself –back. Into the known unknown. Of necessity there is a deeper turning away from FW1.Not an exclusion of it.
Anslem says again
“The palette is always in danger, art is always on the edge”
So what is the truth of practice? A minor flirtation or an edgy risky endeavor. I’ll admit that there wass something naive in my approach to TSM, it has the painters equivalent of adopting an emotional palette of soft pastels, misty eyed and filled with wonder. Mystical awe inspired soft sighs and prayers to the beatific.
Yet I would never paint in such an emotionally stultifying fashion. I would never inflict the bordom of a pastel palete upon myself.
Anslem speaks of everyone being at the star center of their personal celestial and everyone having a history, which is ‘personal’. But that history I know extends into the future, extends in all directions, including sideways. Its harder for me to think of my history as something ‘past’ unless I am a ‘thing past’ an event after the fact of me. Practise could open pandoras box and I find that it is the memory of me that writes these words.That my star has already gone nova.
posted by Belle at 6:57 AM
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