A new thing needs to happen with this dead space. THat thing is, simply, to put forth stuff. So I propose to post a different painting/drawing/etc and tell a little tale about it.
Today we begin with the Ego.
What is this ego, then? The bruised, half-exhumed cadaver of our cardboard-thin demands upon that expression or modality of life which we are forced to occupy. Against our wills, usually against our wills. Always something shinier, prettier, more pro forma hiding in some corner of the imagination, isn't there? Something better to strive for? Something better to BE? Cleaner, richer, thinner, healthier, more popular, more and more a perfect carbon copy of some self concept a 6th grader dreamt up and then was never really able to let go of? This happens a lot, more often than we'd ever care to admit to ourselves.
I don't side with the Ego, necessarily, that two-bit two-faced construction, that cardboard prop to which the entire advertising industry and perhaps our whole pitiable commodity culture depends on - but neither do I side with life, the messy, gooey, three-dimensional manifestation of it - that slimy trail we leave with each moment's passing, the compost heaps and the daisies, the goodwill and the Shadow, the gruesome noisome morass of guts and blood contracting which produce a human life - or any life - taking the good with the bad, leaving it up to God, admiting to imperfections and doing the best you can and hoping for the best.
no - I side with neither, I sit on the fence
Which is why my Ego Epoxy portrait looks so fundamentally disgruntled
I live to sulk... so far. And cast insults when I dare.
Why do you live?
Posts
