It's time to crossover to drabcoyle. The wendy post, and the successive posts, that reflect on why I am not doing pretty little things is a good stopping point, which there are some clear influences for me, like Ron English, and Kara Walker. Not the aesthetic stuff, but rather, the mentality, of a willingness to not pretend. I mean, when you hear from an artists how much America loves racism for example, coupled with forms that connect slavery to disneyfied productions. Ron, obviously, feeds into the disneyfied stuff as well, which I connect that to Stephen King's IT, POP, POP, POP. This psychological play that prefers minds at the surface, no decay, no elements within a work that would reference nature. Red Bubble, and the overemphasis on digital design, I think does this as well. It's not so much art, of orienting minds toward processes, but rather pushing minds further into the mirror, towards a basis of reactions in relation to iconographies. It's that mentality toward the process. And sure, there are a lot of influences for me, in relation, but I just don't see there being much sense running down a laundry list of influences. I think Ron and Kara are major pillars. Granted this work above isn't offering matters of distinct process that would reach an audience, like reflecting on the Piss Christ artwork. It's a beautiful piece, but the process involved has offended people, and that is ART, to emphasize a process that draws an audience in ,and the responses are often impactful. I'd like to do that in some capacity, likely using this aesthetic. I have some mixed and digital aesthetics as well that I could use, but I do think the digital is overemphasized now. I think when matters are new, it is interesting to explore, but when these matters become a worn path, it's not about exploring but playing it by the numbers, of a decor approach; of what I can make to score the numbers type of thing. So...I'll do some decor stuff, but this is art. It's not pretty, much like life isn't easy, and yes, we are all fucked. I do not really take anyone promising all the hope in the world seriously. I think too, there is this arrogance, where someone offering a sobering honesty, with actual experience and travels to back that matter up, there is this arrogance that frames the deficite, among a flatline of optimism, that adults in their upper middles to oldies, in a variety lots in life, can follow, it's a sugary death, that mentality, and some can't take a bitter pill, so they just devolve into a lifeless mechanic to get by. I can't say I'm exactly a fountain of anything, but I'm not willing to pretend. There is no hope. There is this indifference existing among our environment that I find the embrace comforting. I don't need a popaganda ending to this world. It's fine the way it is, which would involve that sobering lens...far removed from any rose tints a happy gang would intend. And the difference, to me isn't ill intent. Most of it is good intent, and I'm not here to tell someone how they should or shouldn't be, but at some point, the glass will break, and there will be a souring of life, regardless of how matters appear in the mirror. It's unavoidable. I think good artists start from there, and I'm not here to be a good artist. I like being a groupie. Still, like the good artists I connect with, yes, I think I've reached that mentality that is unwilling to partake in the absurdities of hope. It's a waste. It's a whore. It's a pretty hate suck like sugar on a dick. It's confounding, that's all.
And in these posts post-drab wendy, it's not this thumbing my nose at anyone. I think the people I am around get this. It's not this hate session on people working to achieve certain matters. Rather, it's this embrace of a needed, sobering, lens to this life. We are all entirely fucked and those with experience can find some relief in that. It really does ease that notion of not falling off...and yet if you are fucked, on or off, it really doesn't matter. Meaning, one can simply ground and accept this is their path, the parameters as to how this all came about wouldn't be so reductive and dimensionless. There's a lot that was involved, layered, complex, so who needs to give that energy when that is just how it is. The all fucked is just that sobering honesty, of this life, where there is nothing to prove, and the trajectory is just the trajectory, and the measuring a forcefitting relation to satiate forms of insecurity. I think we all have them obviously, but it's something we all have to get over, and when we can sober up from the propaganda machines, and even discover the difference between art and decor, and learn to think in terms of process rather than mere visual responses on the basis of sentiment, trajectories don't matter so much, but rather connections matter more. I think though connections aren't inherent, in that, connections would involve these cultural processes, like painting, cooking, gardening, mechanics, crochet, sport, etc...I think connections just aren't given, and hollow conversations even if they pull strings don't really get it. Connection, bridging, in a way that pulls people together articulates a cultural way, not a conversational way. It's a way of connecting that requires a level of care to create in some kind of cultural way. A lot of countries around the world emphasize this as the very basis of their way of life. Here, the popaganda machine seems intent on replacing such cultural connections...I can't say what anyone should do to make these types of connections, as a cultural way is among an uncontrollable aggregate activity. It happens naturally, like matters between animals in nature happen, if it isn't impeded. I think it is impeded in the US. At best, there are simply floating cultures without full connections out and about. I think I am now one of these floating cultures. I'm not sure what people should or should not do, but among those willing to sober up to being entirely fucked, I would say a trajectory, the mirroring lot, is an obvious secondary, if one is to even follow who they are. If it's a literal can that has determined who you are, then I do think one is walking death. There are conscious and subconscious factors to who we are, and the literal is too conscious to ever figure matters out. Music, art, sculpture, mechanics possibly, gardening, cooking, acrobatics, the weirder the better, etc...I think, activities among layerings, forces people to explore these unexpected attractions as they sift through and curate techniques to understand their distinct layering and why something resoantes with them, not so literal, but in relation to a complex backdrop of experience...the literal language can't offer this type of matter. The literal language is the espresso machiato paper bag play, and unless you are playing it up, say, with informatic methods, it will certainly play you into a living death. It's why when I hear the words about who someone is without any active play of hobby, though I'm not judging, I follow, you are fucking lost. I've been there from time to time, especially when I'm transitioning into some other endeavor...You fall back on a literal understanding, and yet, again, it's a paper bag. Shoot away with it all day, it's simply there to gut you out into a hollow nothing of marketable shit. This language was never ours, so your thoughts were never yours to begin with. We have actual life with dimensions of complex experiences, and we have activities, hobbies, in various forms, with options that as we curate, they are often connecting to these various layers that make us so complex. It's actual living. It's a production where no one has to figure you out, and no one has to read these words forever, as there are forms that emerge, to which someone can sense these layers of experience that they could never witness. It's the same for everyone, even as we are all getting tarred and feathered, as the sobering artist lens would have it. We have these layers and layers...none of us can directly experience or follow these layers, and the language is total shit in terms of highlighting these backdrops...but activities can get into that...even sport. It might seem like simply game, but people have techniques, accolades, memories of times when, and the people around supporting, who have recollections of previous events. It's more literal, but there is both that literal and non-literal dynamic. Art I gravitate toward, because it's heavy on the non-literals and a lot can be said, layers upon layers, with various approaches. It's also something that, seems to fuck with the plastic pyramid play, of time suck competition, where the activity is treated as the pure standard that simply serves to erase cultural interactivity. I think competition once upon a time was something desirable to bring people together, but the cultural happenings were the event, and the competition was the matter that facilitated the cultural happenings. Now, competition more and more seems like a skeletal demon...as the alpha and omega to a lifeless gathering,,,where it's the polished pucker on the rise, who isn't the kid down the street, realizing their gifts, of which everyone can appreciate, but the saint vapor elevation that all are to both praise and resent. It's why I stopped going to a lot of sporting events. A lot to me has changed and not for the better. The cultural, of orienting toward the processes of our activities, of our dimensions, seems like the better option these days. I am happy that everyone is getting their career or family life options in, but it's the mechanics, it's the basis that can offer cultural happenings, even if popaganda would rather you insulate with the sugar dicking life. Why culturally connect when you can watch a simulation of this on the television, only to return to the mechanics of your life, realizing it's a life of robotic skeletal demons veneered with popaganda. It's all Ron English. Everyone and everything is fucked. There is no hope. It's sobriety, and yet, that wouldn't preclude cultural connection, which doesn't require hope to live or exist. It doesn't even require an awareness to understand. Again, it's something that throughout the world, is the priority for most societies, not popaganda.
And of course, back to the finality of this ::BRIDGE::: like casting a spell, we tap out of the Gemini Feed sand trap...Wendy to Wendy, splintering, that axe, an ontology like a Heideggerian hammer, this being, among the Shining Twins (Alexa, Alexie), no longer in close relation to uses among nature but in relation to uses among something else...dance magic dance...goblin baby...sound the gong...
Two, the end, never seems to ever ever (elle-s, have it eh, eh) get us to the end, so maybe that is the end?
Redrum....Redrum...Finger I Down....Finger I Down ...Finger Eye Down ...eyes have to the symbologies in the mirror, I saw it on the candle, HE IS, embracing the universal (that struggle, color swatches to the water-check board), hollowing out, making a wish on that truth cake...123)...Meanwhile, she's making a Swish...Candles Out...What just happened here? Can we map it out?
Those who don't create, consume...Shadows evade light...
Two, the end never got us to the end, so maybe that is the end?
