Thursday, September 15, 2005
The Esthetics of Making Nothing
I'm certainly no slave to culture. It hasn't served me very well, hasn't answered any of the deep questions that I've had since I was a child. Depression has been a curse in the family and I think a lot of it has come from the lack of answers. During World War II, my father, who was an MP with General Patton, had his jeep blown from under him three times. Each time he was the only person not killed or seriously injured. Not only did he have survivor's guilt, but I'm sure he wondered why the insanity of war had to happen in the first place as he looked around at the pieces of his friends. He suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress for the rest of his unhappy shortened life.
Times are not easy now as I venture into this world of writing and publishing. I manage to be very busy at making no money. I picture this as being at the tidal interface between two different realities, kind of like it is when you exit the Golden Gate by boat and enter the Pacific. The competing currents and tidal flows create a turbulent world of chaotic wave patterns that make no apparent sense, that tend to throw a person randomly one way and then another. I don't know how long it will take to navigate through this. To remind myself why I am willing to go through this turbulent time I have to stop long enough to touch my inner esthetic and express it, whether by writing a blog to an unseen (maybe non-existent) audience, by designing a piece of furniture, or even by fiddling with the HTML for this page. The page will probably take awhile though, I'm busy making nothing.