Do you remember the first ever concert you went to?
I do- Michael Jackson. He was amazing but for some reason i remember being really pissed off that i didn't get to go with my cousin and he family to see Michael Flatley in his river-dancing performance that was on the same night. I was obviously in one of my ridiculous hobby phases. (Others went on to include diving, kick-boxing, horse-riding, ceramics, piano, little athletics, swim club, police rangers, bush walking club, gymnastics, kumon, Johhny Young talent time, a day of tap dancing class, netball, style and deportment classes, acting classes and i think i dabbled in synchronized swimming)
But anyway- here's a big shout out to Concert T.V and a general appreciation for how awesome live concerts are.
Edgar Degas, Dancer with a Bouquet Bowing, 1878, Pastel on Canvas, Musee D'Orsay, Paris.
Degas had his dancers. Toulouse-Lautrec had the Moulin Rouge. Monet had his waterlilies, and Cezanne had his fruit bowls. But what do you have my friend? How will you be remembered?
Art is not for everyone- and not everyone can love the same thing. There is nothing wrong with that- on the contrary actually. If everyone loved the same thing then the world would be a very predictable place and the exact same goes with people. Art and life are one and the same. Creation, passion, color and celebration. Lovers come and go and sculptures are created and crumble. Crushes occupy your mind, just as fashions go in and out. Life goes up and down just like art does as it changes with the world around it.
I appreciate beauty in my world. The creative and the aesthetically diverse, but there are some images that have a different impact on me. There are some paintings that make me stop in my tracks. The kind of images that make you stop breathing when you see them and as you stand there, frozen in time, the hair starts to rise on your neck and your arms and you simply stare at this art work and get lost in it's beauty and power. For me, these works speak to me differently than all the others. They touch something deep inside and they can change a person forever. Once you have seen it, you are never truly the same. For me these works are by a numerous and varied amount of artists, but such greats as Robert Rauchenberg and Cy Twombly had their finger on a different pulse. Truth.
Its what the impressionists learned to do in order to catch the beauty of their subjects. 'Life is but a series of fleeting moments' and in order for an artist to catch them, they have to work quickly and even haphazardly. Its the absence of light, the open and untouched spaces of canvas, knowing when to stop applying and the seamlessly careless brushstrokes that make these works so incredible. Accidental and incidental, these actions truly make the artworks. They just put down exactly what they felt or what they saw.
The best paintings, photographs and drawings always seem to be a happy accidentally. The best work comes from when you aren't trying so hard and you stumble across a creative flow from within yourself . Life happens when you are busy making other plans and the best art happens when you cut out all the bullshit. The recession is actually the best time in history because people cut out all the materialistic crap that shadows their mind and they open up to what is really beautiful and important. Love and passion. The ability to create never goes away- it just gets raw and open when people aren't misguided by lust and superficial desires. Art can be a happy accident, but like life, you just have to be open to it.
Voltaire once said "Anything too stupid to be said is sung" which can be true for almost all the rap songs out there;
"Sleeping on a nigga like I'm rapping in my jammies
I'm rapping when you sleep, I was rapping when you were in jammies,
Mel Gibson flew Lethal Weapon, book 'em Danny"
'I'm me, Little Wayne, 2008'
Maybe Voltaire's quote should be "Anything too ridiculous to be sung is rapped"
But don't get me wrong- I actually really enjoy rap music. It's the last thing anyone would think I listen to and I love that. Marina and I think Little Wayne is amazing, but i guess you have to uncover a different meaning to his words........haha
I was wondering today if I will ever be able to settle down, because the same feeling rises up in me every 3 months. I don't know why its that long, but it is. Its always the same time. A max of 3 months in a city and I have to leave, 3 months with a person and its not the same. 3 months doing something and i need a change. 3 months..............and i need something different.
I was talking to Zippy about this last night over a crunchy tuna roll. I told her the reason i was in Paris (to get out of NYC) and she said she felt the same way. I'm in a great position to be able to travel to amazing places when I get sick of being somewhere. Its the most amazing thing about my job and i could never imagine doing anything else. I've been moving around since I was 17 and I'm so used to it now that I hate being in a routine. Maybe its just in my personality- to be moving and changing. Traveling so my imagination can seek a higher ground.
But the question I am asking myself and anyone else is when will I stop moving? When will i be satisfied with one thing? I fall hard and fast for people and places. I adore deeply, I am willingly open, but it doesn't last- or hasn't yet. Is this growing up? I thought I was over the adolescent who-am-i/where-am-i-going stage. I'm heading for my 21st birthday and I feel like I am not where I want to be yet. I have so much to give and I feel like I am on the street corner waiting for someone to take it from me. Where is it supposed to go? Am I a nomad because I am running? Is this wanderlust or am I hiding from something? I know WHAT I want, I'm just impatient and wondering if I am doing enough to get it. Who knows what is really the right way. No one can see into the future.I do know that I cant ignore that feeling inside me when it comes up. I need to roam. I need to run and i will not hold myself back.
Somewhere between the Bastille and Opera stations, a woman fainted.
I was simply listening to my music and the strange thoughts that pass through my mind when I'm sitting on the metro. A song was swirling around my ears, blocking me from the outside world when her head silently fell by my feet. I stared at her for what seemed like a strange amount of time before it registered that she really wasn't meaning to lie that way on purpose. The song continued and as i ripped an ear piece from my ear and heard the commotion start.
People tried slapping her- to no avail
People tried poking her, but that did not work either.
I wondered for a moment what i could do to help, but she just kept laying there. I wondered what would happen if that was me and i had no one to help.
And then he came. I have no idea who he was but he took charge of the situation like a Knight. He picked her up and sat her down. She slumped like a rag doll. He spoke a jumble of words in French that i obviously didn't understand and then held her face in his hands.
Unresponsive, he made the decision to take her off the train. Who knows if this man was in a hurry. Who knows if this man had somewhere he really needed to be. Who knows if this man even knew this woman at all. So off they went, down the platform. She could hardly walk but he held her up. And when she turned to jell-o again, slipping down his side like butter down a hot piece of toast, he was there to pick her back up again.
"Cos I'm the one, who's gonna show, when there's nobody,
I suppose you are meant to cry your eyes out when something really emotional happens to you.... but as i sit in this taxi and i leave you behind the pain comes from another place. The feeling swells in my chest and i feel myself pulling away from you like gum on the bottom of a shoe. I don't want to leave but i know i am going. Its the worst pain in the world. I feel like my heart is loosing its power and will very soon melt out from my chest and spill all over the floor. Its bleeding and aching and this taxi ride could not be longer.
Cars pass by and see the vessel i am in. The happiness of what just was and the confusion of why i am driving so fast in the other direction.
A tissue to the face dries the tears, but a cloth to the wound only shows the stains of my hearts pains.
When we try to be something we are not is when we are at our most vulnerable. The protective covering we use to keep our real selves away from the world. An armor we put on so we don't have to show people who we really are. They say it's a defense mechanism. But who are we defending ourselves from? The truth we already know deep down inside?
"I get lost in the night so high I don't wanna come down, to face the loss of the good thing that I have found. In the dark of the night I can hear you calling my name. With the hardest of hearts I still feel full of pain. So I drink and I smoke and I ask if you're ever around, even though it was me who drove us right into the ground."
Vulnerable and shy he turns into something he doesn't want to be for the sake of staying in a place where he feels he knows himself best. But the time comes where he has to turn and face it all. His armor is gone and he's left open, for all the world to see. He thinks they are all watching so he crumbles, mumbles and tries to pretend he is O.K. He sits up and takes a breath. I know it's in there and so does he, but its lost the a maze and he's stuck in the bushes right now.
Honestly, its a really ugly word. "Blog". I don't mean to be negative, but I'm just setting the record straight that i never thought i would be one of those people that blogs about their lives. I suppose it's just another form of propelling your identity into the universe. With so many people grasping at the opportunity to stand out/be famous, we try everything we can to stand out from the pack. I feel like people are jumping up and down to get noticed. Facebook, Mypace etc. Everyone needs to be noticed. "LOOK AT ME I HAVE A BLOG WITH PRETTY PICTURES AND WITTY WRITING" The amusing thing is that everyone is doing it, so really you are no different to everyone else (myself included). But if it gives you something, then it's a positive venture, right?
Its that feeling you get when you want to do something you haven't done before and you are scared. You don't know why you are scared, because you've never felt the consequences of what is to come, but you are leaving a place in your life that you are used to, and possibly leaving something behind when you do it. An innocence? Being naive?
Is it fear of growth? Will the outcome change you permanently?
Its big- the fear of venturing into a territory that is out of your comfort zone.....
This is my favorite feeling and my worst fear.
The shy little girl by the side of the pool who was last to go in, yet years later can't be away from water or she feels disconnected and somewhat lost.
Its something that you don't want to do but try anyway, just incase you love it.
The good and the bad. The Ying and the Yang of life.
The lovers you meet that you know are bad for you, but you fall for them anyway.
The country you travel to, even though its nice enough at home.
The job you take that you know nothing about.
The sport you try, even though its dangerous.
Its these moments when we make a choice to leave what we know and discover something about ourselves along the way.