_▂▃▅▓▒░ART░▒▓▅▃▂_ Art, after all, only embellishes truth. It is not truth itself. Art begets certainties that biography can’t confirm. Art begins in honesty. Art dealers are like surfboard riders. You can’t make a wave. If there are no waves, you’re dead. But the best dealers know which of the oncoming waves are the right ones. Art does not lie down on the bed that is made for it. It runs away as soon as one says its name. It loves to be incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets what it is called. Art has no other object than to set aside the symbols of practical utility, the generalities that are conventionally and socially accepted, everything in fact which masks reality from us, in order to set us face to face with reality itself. Art is a boys name. Art is a form of prayer. Art is a language, not just what it is. Art is a lie that enables us to see the truth. Art is a way of getting in touch with one’s own insanity. Art is about making something out of nothing and selling it. Art is like grand music, an eternal act of generosity. Art is not a mirror to hold up to society, but a hammer with which to shape it. Art is not a profession which can be mastered by study. Art is not an end in itself. Its a means of addressing humanity. Art is not truth. Art is a lie that helps you understand the truth. Art is the only way to run away without leaving home. Art is the signature of civilizations. Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere. Art makes singularly unglamorous demands: integrity, sacrifice and discipline. Art serves us best precisely at that point where it can shift our sense of what is possible, when we now know more than we knew before, when we feel we have-by some manner of leap- encountered the truth. That, by the logic of art, is always worth the pain. Art suffers at the hands of reality. Art tells you things you don’t know you need to know until you know them.
Posted on: Tue, 22 Apr 2014 15:46:27 +0000
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