suppose that an envelope is a spaceship
This is an extremely odd line of thought -- but hear me out. In my experience, new lines of thought -- where you haven't developed language yet -- tend to emerge through metaphors. It feels like I'm onto something; I just don't know quite what yet.
1. Suppose that all art is a direct response to something -- that there is no such thing as spontaneous generation of an idea. Imagine that for every idea, you could put a tag on it, a label saying exactly which sources it is a response to...
2. Suppose that an envelope is a spaceship.
3. Suppose that a letter is a clone of your own brain. That is, by sitting down and writing out your ideas, you can create a six-foot-tall blue-eyed facsimile of your very being.
4. Suppose that the Milky Way, this spiral-armed galaxy, is populated with intelligent beings: one to a planet. Suppose that the closer you get to the center of the galxy, the more like yourself these beings are -- and at the edges of the galaxy, everyone is your complete opposite.
5. Suppose that all the beings in the galaxy are not anonymous, but rather have proper first names: Dwayne, Eleanor, Fritz, Jane.
6. Suppose that all the beings in the galaxy are made of the exact same stuff as you. We are all made of some sort of yogurt that congealed from milk that dripped down from the big black eternity above.
7. Suppose that there is no way to change the beings on the outer arms of the galaxy who you are in conflict with. Only they can change their own minds. If you object to their existence, you would ultimately have to murder them. But even in your anger, you can see that you can't condone murdering Dwayne, Eleanor, and Fritz...
8. Seeing as how the people closer to the center of the galaxy are very like you, and the people who are farther out are less like you, it's reasonable to assume that your friends (like Jane) are friends with some people who you personally couldn't stand to be with.
9. ...However, your clone has no such objections. If you send your paper clone in his/her spaceship out to a neighboring world, your friends could introduce the clone to their neighboring worlds -- but you wouldn't have to be subject to the stress of that encounter.
10. Presume that we are all trying to understand the world we are living in.
11. Art is an attempt, however indirect, to create an interpretation of experience.
12. Isolation is a terrible motivator. Being with a group of encouraging artists who are trying to express themselves in similar ways to you -- this is a great motivator. It is as if you all can see the same ghostly image, and are together trying to make-out its outline. The creative process is one of collectively trying to articulate what you see.
13. There can come a point where you have seen all that there is to see in your immediate vicinity. There is no inspiration, only boredom nearby. Inspiration comes from going farther out from the center of the galaxy, to places where you are seeing things that you don't recognize.
14. Suppose that in making your art you were meticulous about documenting precisely who and what you were responding to: both the truly alien, and the familiar.
15. Suppose that there is nothing inanimate in the galaxy. That everything that exists, exists because there is a living being -- with a proper name -- preserving it. Suppose that if you want to respond to these things, you had to speak directly to the beings that stand for them.
16. In a group you could create a clone collectively -- but it would be a giant built out of all of your bodies. The people on the outskirts of the galaxy would fear and reject this colossus. But a clone of a single person -- that could travel outward, staying overnight at friends' houses on the way, out to the edge of the galaxy. ...So long as you created the clone in good faith, imbuing it with your own personal essence, rather than attempting to build a soulless robot. (Who would invite a strange, anonymous robot to stay with their family?)
...Um, that's it. That's what I can dredge up at the moment. Looks like I'm noodling around with a metaphor for being alive, living in society, creativity, and ethics. Hm.
1. Suppose that all art is a direct response to something -- that there is no such thing as spontaneous generation of an idea. Imagine that for every idea, you could put a tag on it, a label saying exactly which sources it is a response to...
2. Suppose that an envelope is a spaceship.
3. Suppose that a letter is a clone of your own brain. That is, by sitting down and writing out your ideas, you can create a six-foot-tall blue-eyed facsimile of your very being.
4. Suppose that the Milky Way, this spiral-armed galaxy, is populated with intelligent beings: one to a planet. Suppose that the closer you get to the center of the galxy, the more like yourself these beings are -- and at the edges of the galaxy, everyone is your complete opposite.
5. Suppose that all the beings in the galaxy are not anonymous, but rather have proper first names: Dwayne, Eleanor, Fritz, Jane.
6. Suppose that all the beings in the galaxy are made of the exact same stuff as you. We are all made of some sort of yogurt that congealed from milk that dripped down from the big black eternity above.
7. Suppose that there is no way to change the beings on the outer arms of the galaxy who you are in conflict with. Only they can change their own minds. If you object to their existence, you would ultimately have to murder them. But even in your anger, you can see that you can't condone murdering Dwayne, Eleanor, and Fritz...
8. Seeing as how the people closer to the center of the galaxy are very like you, and the people who are farther out are less like you, it's reasonable to assume that your friends (like Jane) are friends with some people who you personally couldn't stand to be with.
9. ...However, your clone has no such objections. If you send your paper clone in his/her spaceship out to a neighboring world, your friends could introduce the clone to their neighboring worlds -- but you wouldn't have to be subject to the stress of that encounter.
10. Presume that we are all trying to understand the world we are living in.
11. Art is an attempt, however indirect, to create an interpretation of experience.
12. Isolation is a terrible motivator. Being with a group of encouraging artists who are trying to express themselves in similar ways to you -- this is a great motivator. It is as if you all can see the same ghostly image, and are together trying to make-out its outline. The creative process is one of collectively trying to articulate what you see.
13. There can come a point where you have seen all that there is to see in your immediate vicinity. There is no inspiration, only boredom nearby. Inspiration comes from going farther out from the center of the galaxy, to places where you are seeing things that you don't recognize.
14. Suppose that in making your art you were meticulous about documenting precisely who and what you were responding to: both the truly alien, and the familiar.
15. Suppose that there is nothing inanimate in the galaxy. That everything that exists, exists because there is a living being -- with a proper name -- preserving it. Suppose that if you want to respond to these things, you had to speak directly to the beings that stand for them.
16. In a group you could create a clone collectively -- but it would be a giant built out of all of your bodies. The people on the outskirts of the galaxy would fear and reject this colossus. But a clone of a single person -- that could travel outward, staying overnight at friends' houses on the way, out to the edge of the galaxy. ...So long as you created the clone in good faith, imbuing it with your own personal essence, rather than attempting to build a soulless robot. (Who would invite a strange, anonymous robot to stay with their family?)
...Um, that's it. That's what I can dredge up at the moment. Looks like I'm noodling around with a metaphor for being alive, living in society, creativity, and ethics. Hm.
