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Archive for November, 2013



The recent photograph of the Pope embracing the man with cutaneous neurofibromatosis has got me thinking about attractiveness and aversion. My uncle had cutaneous neurofibromatosis and died isolated and alone. Did he die unhappy? I don’t know because I never knew him very well. I don’t think anyone did. It has me thinking again about my own unattractiveness: the emotional vulnerability and mental illness, the carroty hair, pale complexion and the scrawny body all more attractive to predators than lovers. I wonder though if my desire for creativity had been satisfied by someone loving me, would I be an artist? Certainly not the one I am today. And I like being an artist. Like the Pope I’ve learned to appreciate my own unattractiveness and have come to see it as a blessing. Never again will I try to compensate others for it.



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r u living an overcoded life?


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Creativity amazes me. What gives a piece the presence we call “art?” What distinguishes the casual snap from the considered image? Playful rhyme from memorable verse? Innocent dance from living choreography? What is it about how the author threw themselves into the piece, heart and everything, that makes it breathe and live…some undeniable there, there…?


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