Sunday, January 1, 2017

Allegory of Winter

Does a day really make a difference, those 24 little hours?  Do people actually wake up and become that which they wish they were in the last twelve months at the start of a new year?  I suppose it gives people hope and inspiration or merely provides that strange comfort demarcating the threshold and passage of time can offer.   No matter.  Whatever gets you through the day, sweetheart.

I find it utterly intoxicating... not the booze, lights or glitter of a moment but that spark of recognition.  When you see art or hear music that illustrates the colors of your own dreams.. the sounds in your own head.  That to me is what I get up for, why I keep up the charade of every day life.  For that precious moment when you and the piece are one... at the risk of sounding trite, the moment when you know you are not alone.  

Someone else was haunted by that color, that image, that sound.  They laid awake at night drowning in their desire for expression; waited for its writhing birth into light and spirit.  Sometimes, I think, that's why people crave physical relationships.  It is their longing to have their Other highlight what scurries furtively around inside them, begging for an audience.  Craving to be seen.  That is pain. That is prison.  A treasure, a blessing and a curse. 

My paradox is uncomfortably banal.  Whilst craving others' company, I am almost immediately disappointed by it.  So this is where I shall stay, until Geppetto grants me my wish.  Suspended between these two realities in a body that increasingly feels less and less real.

Remedios Varo is a saint.  Her work is salvation. (click any image for larger slideshow)

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