Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
— William Butler Yeats, “No Second Troy”
Mylène Farmer performs “Ainsi soit je.” She keeps us waiting until 2:00, only to break down sobbing. Art is not about expressing the artist’s emotion (nobody cares about that), but about evoking an emotion in the audience — and they cry with her. Suburban_elk once wrote:
[Art] it is about creating a tone of mind, a frame that includes both emotion and reason, and then that thing above those that is both and more.
A beautiful woman is art. Marie Laforêt performs “Viens, viens.” The darkness within draws a girl to men who leave. It makes her miserable when things are tranquil so she complicates her life until it hurts and only then she is satisfied, because only then she feels like she has a soul. What do Katie Piper, Vanessa Münstermann, and Gessica Notaro have in common?
The first task of civilization is to forbid children to play in the street. You know what is most tragic about ‘sharks? It’s the loss of feral genes. If there is one thing I shout as I hold you by the shirt collar, it’s this — we need our left half!! The capacity for great madness is the creative fount of a great race. We need our cunts, deviants, drunks, criminals, freaks and self-immolators. But as long as we’re in this straitjacket, the pigs are vacuuming up our wild eggs.
There’s a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
In Pink Floyd’s great underrated song Final Cut, closet fash Roger Waters asks the kinds of questions that shouldn’t be asked and bellows against the swelling wave of strings:
Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.
I like Elk’s thoughts on what art does. But how does it become? I think there are three elements. One: the artist’s sub-rational openness to the transcendent; you can also call that authenticity, or sincerity. Two: artist the man as a medium; his purity or corruption, his originality in filtering the intangible on it way to material expression. Three: his technical skill to deliver the artifact faithfully to intent.
Here is another de profundis performance:
Oh, I love you
God, I love you
I’d kill a dragon for you