Unclean
Added 2017-10-04 19:14:53 +0000 UTCWhy do we create? We, as artists, traverse the edge. We cannot touch the unknown. We do not pretend to understand it. But we can feel it. We reach our arms wide, like antennae, into dark fields of static. We channel this energy through the medium of being, and dipping our voltaic fingers back into the sea of profanity, charge currents into the atmosphere of the living; We transcribe it into words, into images, into sounds.
Sometimes, we make waves. We perturb and upset those who were long sleeping. Sometimes, the turbulence spins up a storm that drowns entire cities. Sometimes, we want to catch a spark, but instead, catch fire to a thousand villages. We are a hungry race. We feed our bodies, but cannot dampen this insatiable thirst of the mind. We are obsessed and perverted. We run astray, with our torches, into the woods, burning every inch of dry earth beneath us.
Then we must retreat inward; Tapping into the maternal lullaby. We transmit this song, our reaching arms returning to cradle a community troubled with an insufferable colic.
Human, humor, humble, all come from the root 'hum,' meaning, 'of dirt.' Sometimes, our responsibility as artists is to cultivate a quiet space. We must farm this space from the dirt. A society which chooses to turn its face from the sacred temporal nature of the corporal form, buries its face in the disease of fear. This fear is what drowns us.
So today, I'm sharing a quiet moment, captured by Photosensualis in Woodstock a few years ago; In hopes that it might perhaps soften the deafening blow of the media drowning us in repeated waves of rapid fire discharge and screams of terror. Yes, an undraped figure is 'unclean.' I think we should take a collective moment to pause from the indulgence of bloodshed to get some dirt on our hands. Soil is fertile.
---------------------------------------------------------
More images like this, but uncensored, featured in
'Monique - Poet & Muse'
