As I fear to be categorized within any current or emerging artistic style or theme I find myself rejecting all notions of art in search of my own theory of what art is supposed to be and what its function is. Perhaps all artists echo this same sentiment.

My fear of categorization is not for fear of triteness in my creations, but more of my expectation on my work. I don’t want to be recognizable, thus I find my style is constantly in flux. This, however, has brought me to have never been a master of any style, but perpetual amateur at whatever style I take on. Had I devoted myself to copying one style to develop my own, I wonder if my art would be more accessible to my audience? I wonder if my always changing style can be considered a continuity in of itself, or a lack of vision. I doubt I lack vision, but I find I have too much vision always. An excuse to my difficulty of finishing a project.

Maybe I cannot say I hate myself or my art, but I do wish the man in the mirror could cohere. We all know our own faults. Maybe we could become something more were we unaware of our infatuation with our own shortcomings, which too often keeps us from living our lives. Since we are not, we instead carry with us at all times a mental ruler that we use to gauge our success against others, and foolishly, usually only against those who we already feel are better than us. We are all fools, only satisfied to feel dissatisfied with our own lot.

Again, I am on  the train. Again, I am within a fantasy reflected.

from our veranda


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