Monday, June 23, 2008
I don't understand why people get all: OH, well if you know nothing about art, of COURSE you like Picasso. That's all such shit. I think he has a magical magnetism that is hard to ignore, and comes across in the way he lives, through what he makes. Not that this post is supposed to be about Picasso... it's not, he's just representational for now. Rather, it's a reminder to live inside your life, to let your art inform your life and your life inform your art, and to blur that line and to try to get something in return for it. You know... like, Picasso just couldn't even help it. That's what's so great about him.
I can get down with the Little Prince. I like the story, and he's an extra sweet character. But ever since I was a kid, there's just something about that tiny planet he's on... It's so... uncomfortably claustrophobic. I understand that that's probably why he has such wanderlust in the story, but it's always tinged the whole thing with this overwhelming feeling of anxiety for me. So small. No one to talk to. Feels like my life right now... Wish I could jet away somewhere else for a while.