The world seems uninteresting, like something is missing. Is it not as it has always been?
It is highly unlikely something is missing from the world. Pieces are laid in their intransigent order. What then could it be that seems absent in my mind? Is it the lack of understanding of how thing are supposed to be? Is it a lack of acceptance of this is how they are supposed to be?
Art has seemed to take on a new meaning. Or when thought of in a more personal form a new purpose. It does not seem enough to make a photograph as I have done ten thousand times before. A line of consciousness seems to be burrowing into my thoughts. “Why” am I making this art? Like a prairie dog digging its den on the dry prairies all the time knowing once it is completed it will be home to a new generation.
I must continue to make art if for no other purpose than the chance meeting of; “why am I making this art” runs headlong into “why am I not making this art.” I believe I am looking forward to that meeting of perplexities. Could it hold an answer or will it, very possibly, create more questions. Either way it will take me to a place that I am not yet aware of.
To long for a place that I am not yet part of. Growth seems to be an answer. Maybe not “the” answer but an answer nonetheless. Want is of little use, it serves only as a distraction of the work that needs to be done. I must not want. I must learn then do or, very possibly learn by doing. Does want then never come into play? It can, but only in the confines of needs. They seem to go hand in hand. They must though be scrutinized and distinct lines drawn between them. They must never cross pollinate one another or the altered offspring will have characters of both but skills of neither.