From No More Fake News
"After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs." ~ Wallace Stevens
What would happen if the world were enveloped by art? And if we were the artists? And if we owed nothing to any hierarchy or external authority?
Art is a word that should be oceanic. It should shake and blow apart the boredom of the soul.
Art is what the individual invents when he is on fire and doesn't care about concealing it. It's what the individual does when he has thrown off the false front that is slowly strangling him.
Art is the end of mindless postponement. It's what happens when you burn up the pretty and petty little obsessions. It emerges from the empty suit and empty machine of society that goes around and around and sucks away the vital bloodstream.
Art destroys the old order and the new order and the present order, with a glance.
Art spears the old apple on the point of a glittering sword and opens up the whole rotting crust that has attached itself to the tree of life.
It shrugs off the fake harmony of the living dead.
Fueled by liberated imagination, it is the revolution the psyche has been asking for.
Art unchained becomes titanic.
There are artists like Stravinsky, like Gaudi, like the composer Edgar Varese, like the often-reviled American writer Henry Miller, like Walt Whitman (who has been grotesquely co-opted into a Norman Rockwell-like prefect), like the several great Mexican muralists -- Orozco, Rivera, Siqueiros -- all of whom transmit the oceanic quality.
As in, The Flood.
There is a fear that, if such artists were unleashed to produce their work on a grand scale, they would indeed take over the world.
Our world, contrary to all consensus, is meant to be revolutionized by art, by imagination, right down to its core.
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