Saturday, 19 November 2011
Yes I do complicate everything.
I have never been the kind of person that could be satisfied with superficiality. I could never look at simple painting of fruit and stop myself from giving it a disdainful glance and deciding: ‘Well that’s not art.” Neither do I have patience for the kinds of people that are pretty to look at and have nothing to say. Plastic surgery irritates me, especially when I see so many jewish girls with big noses reappear with tiny perfect buttons on their faces, and to my eye they have just lost a feature g-d gave them that had given their faces so much character and distinctiveness, and made them stand out from the rest of the mass of bleached blonde plastic perfect Barbie dolls – that big beautiful jewish nose was what made their face theirs, and I cannot imagine looking in the mirror and seeing my face as not the face that I remember it being or saw myself growing into – that person in the mirror would not be me and I would not recognize myself in it.
I have no respect for dishonest people, the kind that you cant trust with a secret and that themselves have a million of them, the kind that tailor themselves to agree with each different crowd, and that wear so many masks that you never know if you have ever seen the real them.
And if I read a book where the characters are all the perfectly terrifying stereotype of the bad guy, I might throw the book at a wall.
Most of all, I abhor the idea of simplicity in my work, in my ideas, in what I attempt to create. By simplicity I am not referring to the fact that my brain and everything it unleashes on the world is imbued with a hectic pattern of overwhelming chaos – that is more to do with my personality.
By simplicity I mean, that which does not mean something, that which does not have a message, or a story, or an infinite depth which one can read into, behind the surface of the image presents.
Probably why I seem to like to complicate everything, and probably why I have always picked up stray cats, and probably why I am drawn to the most brilliant and deeply damaged people.
I have no respect for dishonest people, the kind that you cant trust with a secret and that themselves have a million of them, the kind that tailor themselves to agree with each different crowd, and that wear so many masks that you never know if you have ever seen the real them.
And if I read a book where the characters are all the perfectly terrifying stereotype of the bad guy, I might throw the book at a wall.
Most of all, I abhor the idea of simplicity in my work, in my ideas, in what I attempt to create. By simplicity I am not referring to the fact that my brain and everything it unleashes on the world is imbued with a hectic pattern of overwhelming chaos – that is more to do with my personality.
By simplicity I mean, that which does not mean something, that which does not have a message, or a story, or an infinite depth which one can read into, behind the surface of the image presents.
Probably why I seem to like to complicate everything, and probably why I have always picked up stray cats, and probably why I am drawn to the most brilliant and deeply damaged people.
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