Friday, November 20, 2009

PDX Art: "Desire" by R. Schemmerer




Desire
Or what you can’t have but could have instead

We desire change but are missing the point that change is ever present.
Instead of shaping that change we are adrift on a raft built from impatience just to anticipate to be saved rescued because we rushed too far out ahead of ourselfs.

We hope to be found by whom? Someone else who is lost or some vessel an entity that brings us safely back to the harbor we tried to escape from but had no plan at hand.
Our common wealth seems always to be threatened, our safety never secure but we still go ahead and pretend that we can have it all, stay in one place one position and still have the freedom to indulge in the excitement teeming on the other side of the frontal lobe. We fight change in side of us but want its promise.

We also want security like on a cruise ship while we are on our excursions into previously to us unknown territory expecting to be protected by a miraculous hand or some other imagined surprise while we anticipate the unexpected around every corner.
We are ambivalent about life but want our life to be a free ride to be remembered.
Optimism is sold in easy to carry paperback editions produced by an industry of self help moguls.

Pessimism is re-packed into series of books explaining to us how to get ready for the looming Apocalypse.
Politicians are going rogue to sell some flaccid gibberish in hard covers exposing the butt of the joke of American Politics.
Social change is handed down like small change handed down from impoverished previous generations and articulated by the restless mind syndrome of restless creative’s and the restless heart syndrome of the stubborn fundamentalists alike.

Social engineering can go in every which way swinging like a pendulum as one stand advances the backlash is not far behind because nobody wants to be behind especially not the 60 millions who read “The Left Behind ‘series. Every threatened sub group gets mobilized as soon as their life style is perceived as threatened.
Otherwise we just coast like a free floating iceberg in the landscape of ignorance until panic strikes where it hurts the most in our wallet.

Art is and has always been threatened by extinction so the latest developments proof nothing new. What had changed was the expectation of becoming in some way famous and its short lived viability and the dream to make a living of being an artist in a technology addicted world.
This seems to have built on an irrational assumption that Art can be dealt with like a commodity independent of research and study as if Art is really needed for survival and that artists are truly worth the myth.

Art has always been a slave to someone, some institutions religious or otherwise, under a governmental support system or used for propaganda, in advertising and being simply decoration for the rich and already famous.

Art as a means of creating awareness is still like an unproven science. It’s like the dog barking at its own mirror image expecting it to bark back or the dog pissing on an artificial tree.

It makes no difference, it doesn’t matter what artists and Art thinks it is or ought to be because it is just an outgrowth of our feeling of inequality a tumor on a system that is always looking to have a newer more exciting product that can be marketed to a polled demographic.

The whole notion of “selling out” is rubbish and artists who worry about that or claim too are living in denial; after all it will be sold and it doesn’t matter if it is as an original, a limited edition, mass produced, or on consignment for a collector which is just a nicer name for a buyer and customer.

Of late Art has taken on so many forms that it has cloned itself to be everything.
The old saying goes” if you are everything you are nothing” ; I think this is a bit harsh and narrow but value is like currency it is an artificial standard and at the end just a transaction like a barter.

You can trade your piece of Art for a Mango or a Porsche dependent on your inclination and desire and trade the Porsche for a 1000 pairs of tube socks if that is what makes you happy.

Happiness has not really a price tag, it’s an amalgam of your wishes and how you expect them to be fulfilled.

We manifest it all the happy thoughts and the unhappy ones the life affirming and the stifling clingy ones that make us a victim of our wants.
It’s all a grand fiction based on some half true stories invented by creative minds to find an outlet of expression and financial gain, implanted into our heads.

The future is constantly invented by smart marketing people who study us as demographics, to poll what we possible want for the next season of happiness or need to have according to them and the companies who get rich of our constant craving for gratification.

Give me more and give it to me now is our slogan like a baby that hasn’t learned yet that everything has to be earned in one way or another. The price for our dissatisfaction is high and there is no piece of Art that possible could fill that void forever.

Even if we say we want less we still want and we are still justifying why it is that we are not happy with how things are.

Art cannot have an effect but it can produce an effect. Art is itself trapped in its own promise and has to free itself constantly from false labels.

Art has to cut itself loose from the need to influence or be off influence, from selling or not to be sold, from trying to be pleasing or the need to shock because Art is the greatest gift of all the gift of not having to make sense just like this essay.

It is a gift to keep not to squander on something utterly frivolous and nonsensical in this sensual and sensory overloaded world.

Art is a place where social and antisocial mate to form new forms of mates, from the redundant to the extremely wasteful from the sublime to the pornographic from the cast out to the iconic, to be an expression of the wonder of human kind and its painful limitation.

The reality of Art is no matter how artsy it is done that it is still unreal at its core; it is a construct produced by speculation and there is a real danger that art is shoveling its own hole trying to sell itself to hard as Art by claiming that the World is in a hole but that art is not in it with it.

Art is not something outside of this life but is life and is living it; life is the real Art that continues to keep as fascinated.

At least I hope so

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