The number of times I've contemplated a change? Innumerable.
Yesterday, I asked questionable questions. And today, for a split second, art made me feel disgusted. Truly! And it was a very, very strange sensation... how momentary and so fleeting that disgust was, and so powerful! Not toward a piece of art either, but Art: all of it. And how quickly, instantaneously, really, it swung to the polar opposite. I don't even remember what it was that made me feel so disgusted. I know it had something to do with narcissism, and ego... but I don't really remember the full context of it. It scared me how, in that flash of a moment, I would have, could have, thrown, thrust! all of my care for art away, with disdain and a mouthful of spit. I was actually pissed off for a second. I was looking at Cindy Sherman photographs during all of this, and then it was so sudden that a new feeling came over me, and I was in the world where art expresses us so deeply. And for the next 45 minutes or so, I was in cloudy awe over how this woman captured humanness so well. I believed her! That's such a strange thing to say about a photograph. How often do you look at a 2-dimensional portrait, and even consider whether you believe it? And the question is not about trust... it's... I don't even know how to word it. All I know is, I looked at those photographs and completely bought each one. They were charming, hysterical, vulnerable, and honest. Sad and real. Aside from being meticulously well done.
But anyway, I don't know what had come over me. It's the first time I had ever felt so strongly (or at all, for that matter,) against(?) art. And really, literally, only for about one second, before I fell in love with it again. It alarmed me. What goblin was that?
Here we go, Day 207: https://ia700805.us.archive.org/30/items/Improv3812/20120308150427.mp3