Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
~ from 'The Second Coming' by W. B. Yeats
Man I've had it up to here
Gear I wear got 'em goin' in fear
Rhetoric said
Read just a bit ago
Not quittin' though
Signed the hard rhymer
Work to keep from gettin' jerked
Changin' some ways
To way back in the better days
Raw metaphysically bold
Never followed a code
Still dropped a load
Never question what I am God knows
Cause it's comin' from the heart
~from 'Welcome to the Terrordome' by Public Enemy
I returned home about forty minutes ago, tired but content, from a social event where I got schooled in what in means to surround one's self with beautiful things that make one happy. In other words, Art. All I know is that I stood there admiring some prints, and thought "That is what I want to do. Please."
On the ride home I had a mashup going on in my head, poetry of two widely divergent decades swirling around in my head. W. B. Yeats in a church, sepulchrally intoning 'The Second Coming' intertwined with the staccato baritone of Chuck D. knocking out 'Welcome to the Terrordome'...and I couldn't stop marveling over the power of shadow and light and words. I couldn't help but feel a tad helpless in the face of such talent and skill.
I thought of my cameras and notebooks waiting patiently at home. I wondered, given what is out there and the sum total of powerful art that has been created, if my aspirations to be a shaman (of sorts) are wildly misplaced. I like to think I see things, hear things, that maybe no one else does in those creative moments of mine. But I have much to learn when it comes to pursuing and creating art, of any kind, be it written or visual.
Yeats, Chuck D. and an artist whose name I didn't write down. I can see them on the road ahead of me. I've miles to go, people, miles to go on the road to who I want to be.
Posts
"The best lack all conviction, while the worst
ReplyDeleteAre full of passionate intensity."
Not many people realise exactly what this poem represented, the words vaguely hidden amongst semi-Christian doctrine. In truth.. it was about the angst of Irish rebellion, the underdog and of being ready to rise.
You're doing the art thing now. You should acknowledge that. :-)
ReplyDeleteI agree with formerlyonlyamovie. You're in it. If you want to do more, different, etc., then try a bit at a time. I'm only able to squeeze in 15-30 minutes each day with three kids and a 2 hour round trip commute.
ReplyDeleteSo after a 4 year art degree, 3 years creating slot machine art, and everything in between, I feel like I'm still trying to "art" myself.
Keep it up, brother.
Jason