All conflict and understanding.

The impossibility of finding balance within myself—an equilibrium of soul and thought within my very core—caused the word no to spring to the tip of my tongue as I followed the article down the length of its pages.  I find the idea of collectivism detestable and brotherhood deplorable, though I can rationalize their existence.  Society demands and requires groups to make sense of all that remains to be understood, especially in that which we call art.

Relational aesthetics calls the whole of mankind to come and see, to know there is a common thread running through humanity and tying the strings of Is.  In this way, the artist does not abandon that which should be held above all else:  the self.  A conglomerate of selves, in form of the word collective unit, group, allows outsiders to the work to see different parts of humanity and of the reality called the world revealed in the pieces pulled from each individual artist.  It is the self-formed mirror of the subconscious that permits the relation of one human being to another through two- or three-dimensional space.  The artwork has the tremendous capacity to reflect the human experience because its creation was all experience; its essence laid bare in the act.  Humanity can be seen in art so long as the painters, the sculptors, the photographs--even the amateurs--poured from the core in a simultaneous conscious and unconscious act of making.

Multiple authors, one piece.  Each being is a shadow of the form of humanity and enabling the shadows to be collected in one place, such as an artist group, gives a clearer sense of the form.  Collectivism, in this case, does not eliminate the man alone--the individual--but, rather, reveals a sea of souls within the oneness of a piece of art.  The unit is a temple and a transmogrifier, housing the separate selves in their untouched state and reshaping the individual cores into the mold of a unified whole.

and so it goes.........

Everything in its place.

See the world; know its people.  To see, to know that much more of humanity is a tremendous calling to which I will be forever climbing.  I wish to step behind the eyes of another people—another world—and, in that, find so much more distinctly the chord that plays through all mankind.  It is the thread intertwined with humanity itself, which proves there is something within the core of every being that is one and the same.  It is not the peoples who are different; rather, it is the face, the colors, the places, and experiences shaping the person’s form and life’s journey.  I wish to collect as many pieces of the world as I can so that I might form some semblance of pure humanity.  There are many things to which I aspire but, at the heart of it all, is a common theme:  I wish to give in the way only one human being can to another. To those suffering from diseases, needing the healing touch of another human being’s hand, I want to give.  To those without a voice, I wish to give words and form to their stories. It makes complete sense to me—and could not be otherwise—that I wish to pursue a degree in both an art and science and a minor in human studies.  People fascinate me and will never cease to intrigue.  I wish to capture, understand, renew, and enrich their lives in film, study, medicine and art.  Everything finds its place.

Ghana presents so many possibilities that once seemed unreachable. 

and so it goes.........

Finally.

and so it goes.........

New Weather

Today saw all greys and the vibrance of colour. It held the sort of rain that could not be anything but good and lovely and right. I walked to the Contemporary Art Museum under dripping leaves and across small puddles.

Finding New Weather within the walls, I ran the course of the wood-paneled floors, the white drywall. Three artists' work filled and yet were captured within doorless rooms. In the first, the charcoals of Robyn O'Neil were placed upon the verticals. An imposing form stood in center. Forever (Blank) Matter, it was entitled. It appeared as an intricate megalopolis perched upon and around and within a steep mountain of steel. The metal cage giving shape to matter was covered in the white buildings of nearlyevery architectural style.

That which we behold is but matter, substance—objects with mass occupying space. As artists and individuals, it is our calling and natural desire to give shape to organic matter, to resurrect forms the world should know.

The charcoal pieces were equally enthralling. Etchings and lines creating some idea of waves or wind or some other element were found throughout O'Neil's body of work. Even the sense of infinity and void could be had. They were otherworldly, haunting, and beautifully primitive. The drawings embodied atmospheres and other spheres and yet each spoke volumes of the ideas—harmony, pressure.

Through a more narrow hallway, smaller versions of the aforementioned greys lining the length, the space opened into still more. Another structure of Al-Hadid's stood, appearing to be suspended only by the empty space beneath it: The Edge of Destiny. Remaining blank space, the fantastical layers of montage collage hung.

and so it goes.........

Existence.

The world in which the reality is eyes and words and questions cannot accept simply that something exists. There must be proof of its being or having been and a reason for its being. An attempt to capture the essence of these somethings has led to the process of documentation, cataloguing, storing in archives. Art is an act—of love, of creating—and the creation itself, and it is this object the world beholds as almost theirs. The artist may live apart from mankind as a whole but in the desire to speak humanity, the body of their work ought to pass through the hands of society. In this way a oneness seeks to be found, a perfect oscillating pattern pulsing through people begs to be reached.

This experience cannot be had be it not for the evidence discovered in images of the art itself. These reproductions, always less than the things in themselves, ought to approach the near perfect form of the art. The ideas surging beneath, from which the work sprung, should be captured; the core of the artist should be plainly spattered and bared upon photopaper. Taking photographs of the pieces should fall upon the individual for it is they who speak need; they know which images reach the infinity of best. Precise mirror representations of artwork do not scream the truth of its existence. Always more than meets the eye; the creator knows.

Promotion, a primary purpose for the production of duplicates in images, falls greatly before that which the artist begs the eyes of man to see. One and one alone can determine existence.

and so it goes.........

Motion.

I cannot write lists they make me anxious I am so buzzing at this moment that I believe punctuation will be neglected for the entirety of this post I want to want and I want everything I see myself distinctly in one place then another and still even yet everywhere I catch glimpse of a fastforward five year I have continued trying my hand as an artist and have been holding the bow of my archer's arm increasingly steady I still move with the same momentum as before the same velocity and I have been to two more continents and several more countries seeing and remembering everything unfolding before me Germany Italy Iceland I have been accepted into a couple medical schools and stand before a great decision here or there I have been more on my own and less in a permanent home I have given much of my time to sleeplessness and the realities of the world serving people and meeting needs with all the humanity I can give I have gathered infinite memories of the things and people and places I have seen in my travels and they are scattered and pinned in a space that can only be mine I have never stopped moving and have completely the less staggering of my desires I have read more and spent less of my time and eyes gazing upon computers and ten years still ahead I am breathing more fully and fighting to seize that which I have dreamt medical school consumes hours days months and I still manage to find time for my art myself and the world

Suffice it to say, I want the world

For sake of the practice of this assignment, I will place my answers in organized structures as well:

Five years from now

• embarking on the journey and struggle that is medical school
• living on my own
• have greater knowledge of African history and culture
• traveling, seeing, giving, and remembering it all in film and memories
• expanded body of work
• overseas missionary work

Ten years

• tackling the necessities of medical school
• beginning practice
• extended missions work
• vast library of books and knowledge

This is how I see myself. I cannot say I am practical, only real and not wholly realistic. To see the things I want broken down is almost too much and never quite enough.

Soon:

• taking additional art classes to branch out more artistically
• learning the entirety of the human body, in a scientist's as well as artist's eyes
• resuming swimming on a regular basis
• finding a psychiatric hospital to volunteer at
• experimenting on my own with different media and new techniques, etc.
• attaining a healthy routine that is not entirely predictable
• learning more African history
• learning a new language (to read, preferably German)
• applying for more scholarships to study abroad and save up for medical school
• writing more, reading more
• more piano

Later:

• spending several weeks serving in another country
• learning a new language (to speak)
• applying for medical school
• leaving Florida
• finding the means to travel more
• creating a space to call my own
• adopting a child from overseas

and so it goes.........

Transformation: The Completion Delay Constant

Everything in its proper place, made immobile by epoxy, the construction is finished or very well ought to be. The kettle fell last night and now I gaze upon glue falling messily down glass. There is still work to be done, but I will abandon it for now. Let it lie.

Half-stumbling, half-gasping I realize I leave nothing unless unfinished. I allow the endless tension to drive the want, the thirst, for never a found idea, only seeking all in a staggering climb. My life, my work is constantly building, rebuilding. I destruct and move forward with everything and the "I".

and so it goes.........