Ohh- I love this woman-
She stopped me at the height of pretense and said-
"If you're too self indulgent in emotion-
It makes the art not-so-good."
As much as I'd like to temper-tantrum and disagree, as a younger me would-
I know she's right in some cases.
I'm fully aware of my own pretentiousness.
She says-
"In those cases you just absorb your own energy"
It's like what some say-
That crying onstage is just like masturbation-
Well, fuck-
But I'm ready to push myself to the brink anyways.
That's why I stress openness.
I'd like to hand out my internal organs out like animal-crackers
Feed the audience like Seagulls
But I'm selfish and self-absorbed.
On one hand I think I need to be
I've already spent too much time closeted and apologetic.
But I cannot turn into the sort who takes art and calls it Godly.
Art is Godly, but not my own.
Art in and of itself-
It is like love and truth and beauty-
Huge unattainable treasures that float past in metaphysical realms.
I can grasp what I make, still.
I own it, and that's why it's pretentious.
I have to let go-
Let go-
Letgoletgoletgo-
I must throw what emotions I have out into the sea
Without any expectation of it being washed back to me.
I have to burn my mandalas regardless of how much time I take on them.
I have to fess up to the fact that my soul is not my own.
And give it, instead, piece by peace, to any passers by who meet my gaze.
Souls regrow, you know.
That's why I love Abramović.
She lets herself not be her own and yet somehow all open and as volatile as humans have to be.
I use the same grotesque analogies when I speak of things like this-
Cracking my ribs open one by one and saying,
"Here, take my heart"
but I turn away and say,
"I bet I just freaked you out- sorry, love."
and that's how it ends.
Not now- I mustn't since that is the self-contained cowardice that makes art selfish.
I have to keep myself open and wait until someone comes forward.
Simply breathing and trusting those who look upon me.
It might take a lifetime, but eventually someone will come and say,
"Alright; I have your heart- now what?"
And all the emotions that I ever ever felt will no longer be stuck inside my ribcage.
It will be theres to keep and I will go on.
Without a heart and soul, until the next emotion happens-
Which it will.
And then I'll start all over.
I only set myself on a pedestal to be seen over the masses, so that one soul who's content with taking mine finds their way to me.
But maybe, and I think this is right, I should jump down from my milk crate and mingle.
I will find that soul eventually.
I wish it were as easy as my physical metaphor, but it certainly isn't.
I don't even know what form it'll take when it happens.
But artists have many souls, they just keep regenerating.
All people do, I just hope to do so through art, since that's what I think is healthy to me.
My intensity may block people out from what I hope to invite them into-
But I know it mightn't be professional or pretty-
But I need that passion to flow out of me-
I'll do my best to keep it accessible.
I'm all over cacophony myself- when someone whimpers and screams I want to run to them saying;
"I feel this too, I will cry too; let's do this catharsis thing together! Let's do this together!"
I think it's because I'm conditioned to do such-
My mother hates audience participation
And I suppose
She's the sort I would block out with my flailing feelings.
It's a tricky thing, of course, as all life is.
I think in theatrics and I suppose that isn't the most universal language.
I write poems and count clouds and cry at everything.
I suppose she's right-
That would be polarizing and profoundly ridiculous to most sane people on this earth.
But I've found my fellow species; I convulse in their arms.
But when it comes to the people I see everyday, especially here where I know no one.
I find myself recoiling to the familiar shores of those so far away, instead of trying to open up and reach out.
For all my pontificating; I get scared a lot.
I fear that I will scare people.
I know I do.
Since there are times when even my fellow species seems to think me as an apparition.
I terrify people since what I feel, I tend to feel intensely, and at this point in my life, I feel no need to stifle it.
And I breathe this artistic ostentatiousness as if it were some magnificent thing.
And I'm not as awful as I sometimes seem-
But I'm Never as good as most simply see me as-
Well they don't know me well, so how would they know, anyways?
I try to emulate so many, who wear their emotions far better.
I want to be the Emcee-
I want to possess passion and make the whole world feel-
I want to arouse discomfort and endear them all, all in the same breath-
I long for the impossible since I've seen it done.
And I worship Gods who I'm well aware don't even exist-
I've seen them as humans, but refuse to believe it.
Since I am very much a child, and there's no way around it.
And I've said that, among other things many times over-
I'm a broken record-
(I've said that before, too)
More feeling, less functioning...
I suppose, as she mentioned, I really oughta try functioning for once-
And if that doesn't work-
At least I can say I tried.
But I won't back down because that it what I promised-
To reveal everything, even the worst.
I mustn't have even the slightest filter I've managed to keep when all else disintegrated-
It's all coming down from here on in.
And it will feel cold, being so open and naked and vulnerable-
"Good!"
they say,
"That means you're off to a good start!"
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