For a long time already I’ve been wondering about what I got myself into. I am a person who feels inspired to express myself and what comes out feels like it was something that was flowing through me rather than originated in me. The universe, for the lack of a better word (I don’t want to use the word God because of its associations with organised religion) seems to be the creator of my creation. If work has in fact been created from this inspiration, from being literally inspired by something and it felt like the channel to the all was wide open and flowing while making it, how can such a work be judged? We are dealing with an almost (thank you Mondrian for making that clear) pure product of the all, so how dare we criticise its creation? How can we teach making art? Today I was arranging and drawing things on paper and after three attempts I stopped. I felt totally disconnected from the work, it felt like labour, like something I just do to get time by and not feel bad for having wasted it. I feel really confused about what the things mean that I make, both for me and for others. It felt like today the channel was totally closed and why? Because I didn’t allow it. My first thought was that I wanted to rather have my own work criticised than exposing the universe, but you know that is just fear, fear of what is real and what is the truth because in the end nothing matters anyway as it all already is.
I think that we are all somehow searching for something, being pulled by an invisible force, all choosing different approaches to this urge. Sometimes there are clear moments of peace and we feel invincible and grateful, hopeful that the ones around us who are submerged will find their way which for us is so clear to see. Then slowly we drift back into murky water, fighting the currents and only when things become overwhelming do we paddle up for help, to gasp for truth.
And what does all this wisdom and stuff help if I question my purpose today. What have I contributed, how have I in fact honoured and appreciated what I have, what I’ve done? I know that I have to be open to myself to be able to tune in to the universe, even though I hate how esoteric it sounds. I have to accept that I live in a country where showing emotions, fears and insecurities is considered a weakness. I have to realise that I try to fill myself with arbitrary stuff to feel whole in a place that is empty. I have to stop feeling disappointed that art school is just art school dealing with themes, nothing more nothing less. The same goes for the humanities faculty at university which only teaches us how something is to be studied, not what it is about. It all stays superficial and I guess that’s because one cannot put the things in words that are underneath it, one can just create symbols for them. But seeing the symbol itself as the thing that is desired or appreciated is not enough for me. I want to go deeper. I hope that I will have the courage to fully express myself to feel the signified rising in my being. I hope that expression will lead me there. I hope that there is actually something there. I long for the real.
This is a piece of a text that I wrote on the 12th of March 2013. I still find it relevant.
“Art doesn’t do anything except make the people who create it feel even more confused about themselves and seem to enlighten the audience about what is happening around us or to them or in them. And now what? Nothing! “