Keptquisling’s Weblog

Or when 1+1 isn’t 2

I’ve been meaning to write about this for quite some time now, And I realize I’m going to get a lot of flak about this should it be read by enough people, but here goes. A recent conversation with a “friend” reminded me of the hypocrisy I had to endure all through my years at art school. It was then I promised myself that I would never paint a version of my own “mother and child.” I’ve always tried to disassociate myself with closed-minded people. But closed mindedness isn’t the exclusive realm of religious bigots, it extends well into other fields of human endeavours, and art has a very twisted take on it too.

Music is art, an impressionist painting is art, a draft sketch is art, and apparently so is a toilet seat. While the majority of artists the world over are destined to work on master pieces no one will ever appreciate within their lifetimes, loose their homes, their jobs and never be rewarded for their passion. A select few, usually “modern art” makers are living lavishly, enjoying the mostly undeserved appreciation of fat rich billionaires without an inkling of the effort that goes into real works of art. When you see a bunch of squiggly lines outlined by expensive paint, that looks like it was done under a minute by an artist rushing to complete a “set” ordered by a rich empty headed buffoon, that is exactly what it is.

There is no “deeper meaning” to most art, like any other field of human professions, not all painters are talented gifted geniuses, and not everything a genius makes is profound. It doesn’t make sense that a painting be worth thousands of times more than what was spent to create it, just because it is a painting from a well known artist. We see this in fashion too, were designers create dresses and head gears that wouldn’t look out of place as a flotilla in a Macy’s day parade.

I was never taught to be an impressionist. My paintings just turn out that way. It wasn’t taught to me, my hand just moved of its own accord and that was the style that came out. I want to paint again, but I have mouths to feed. I see some of my peers suffering, making signs at some shanty at a street corner, desperately trying to make ends meet. Unlike me, they don’t have any other talents to make a living with as they didn’t study anything else, and as things stand now, their works will just fade into obscurity.

It’s wrong but we want to do it anyway. I don’t like my body dictating things for me, I like thinking, it keeps me from doing things I’ll regret, but sometimes we just can’t help it. I hate having guilt, but because I’m considering it at all, I might as well do it.

I need to have my brain fixed, I keep thinking about things I’m not supposed to. I mean its different now, it’s not like back at college, or my old job, I didn’t have responsibilities then. But now I do, I can’t just go around and make the same mistakes again. I have to think about the people who live with me, and depend on me.

I wish I could decide what to do.

My heart skips a beat whenever I see her. I forget my tasks and remember her brilliance, in awe of her accomplishments. And for a few moments all that I could think of was how I could make her mine.

I’m not innocent, this feeling in my clammy hands, coldness of breath, floating thoughts and fearfulness, I’ve felt it all before. In between sleeping with women I’m barely attracted to, while in the confines of my house, my room, I dream of having her with me in bed, sharing a soft intimacy my heart yearns for. A warmth embrace looking for a companion where words can mean everything, but not having everything explained.

I betray, as I know I will feel this again for someone else somewhere someday, my desires hurt people. Those close to me, and those who plan their futures around my endeavours. I’m a traitor though I don’t mean to be, my name befits me and the fickle nature of my wants.

Whatever I do, whatever choices I make, nothing will turn out well. Being true means pain and consequences, am I prepared for the repercussions of my choice? When death finds me, I won’t have any regrets…