dear ANT...forgive the public reply but after I finished writing you, I was fresh out....
No Yogi here...Of all the writers on that blog, I like Clairan best ( I used to follow the blog but lately there's so little time) it's just that after I read one of the posts, like this one, I heave a great sigh and think, just like you, "Meanwhile, Cy was off in a corner, toking on a bone and having a great laugh on the rube who just gave him six months rent for something he did while grunting over a tough bowel movement, damn that week-old fried rice anyway."
Who KNOWS what an artist has in mind and if you asked them at the moment (or close to) of creation, would they tell the honest truth? "I was just dicking around with the new colored pencils...you know, the ones that still had sharp points and I was mad about the bitch on the third floor turning her pointy nose in the air when I dared smile at her in the lobby, I mean who the FOCK does she think she is anyway, the nasty twat, and thanks for asking but NOW the General Tso is giving me diarrhea. I think I'll take a canvas in the crapper with me and see what comes out...."
I wonder what percentage of the entire AB-Ex (or any movement, for that matter) movement stems from so many people having private, personal and completely non-artistic moments with some art materials because somewhere along the way they got the notion that being an Artist was glamorous and some loving family member seized on the opportunity to encourage the little demon in a non-destructive direction.
I mean, really, my gramma taught me cross-stitch embroidery to get me the hell out of her kitchen where I could be found at any moment eating a square of Bakers' chocolate (and swearing it was great!) or crunching on whole roasted coffee beans just to hear the noise. My memory of her kitchen and it's contents is photographic right down to which of her two parakeets would bite you to bloody and which one would ride around on your head, crapping merrily into your braids.
Have I digressed? Go to the studio, you say?
Last night a restaurant manager called to report an employee's slip and fall in the kitchen. I was required to ask "What type of tile is on the floor?" and before he could tell me, I offered "Butter Creme or Chocolate?"
Also " A woman ran out of the establishment without paying claiming that the Devil sat down at the table opposite her and was making a racket with the silverware". The police were called to the scene but did not respond.
Addendum - As I look around blogland, I see the wonderful work of artists everywhere who are working with their favorite stuff merely for the pleasure of doing it. Some of these pieces jump off the page and move the heart. Their work speaks openly and honestly of their motivations. To me, the joy found in the making of it is enough.
Front Runner goes to batt and the Braves baseball season is off to a wonderful start as they are two games into handing last years world series champions Phillies their asses.
I start my mornings with some webwork, a cup of coffee and lately, two consecutive hours of some of the best TV drama ever written going on in the background while I putter, stop, and become engrossed.
Because I worked the second and third shift for many years, I didn't get to see West Wing when it was on in prime time, so many of the shows are new to me.
"Two Cathedrals" was just on and this one, like many, moved me to tears. I don't care what side of the political aisle you sit on, I just can't help but be moved by people who have made public service their whole lives and I'm not just talking about the elected officials. I also keep in mind what an amazing artistic collaboration this TV production was and wonder about how it came to pass.
Nothing in government would work without the people who move the mountains with teaspoons and I wish that I had made a career in that arena but then I remind myself that the contributions I have made matter a great deal to many people who care about me and I hike up my suspenders and get busy with my own teaspoon.
