L’art pour l’art.

I’ve been thinking about this for years now, but even though I think I’ve written about it before I have to write tonight in order to stop thinking anymore. I know this last claim is a lie.

How can’t it be, anyway?

As an artist I think you MUST think about this kind of things, also, if you consider yourself someone who thinks at all, this is something you should consider giving it a though.

I’ll try to keep my calm, otherwise this is going to become the mess that is usually my head.

So, art for art’s sake or l’art pour l’art.

Even though this french slogan is from the early 19th century some people have decided to burn it down, not today, not tomorrow, but always.

Sometimes I wonder what makes the human brain aware that everything they are saying, claiming, writing, thinking posses some kind of truth.

When I was a child, I remember having to think twice because everything I said was being questioned by my parents, and even though somethings shouldn’t be questioned, and I know that know, there are many thinks that should (A.K.A politics, specially when we’re choosing our next president in the blink of an eye).

 

BUT.

 

What I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of people reactions to works of art. Every time I visit a museum that has any conceptual art work in one of their walls, roofs, or lying on the wall, or even written on a tiny brick with a permanent maker, everything seems to be questioned by people who think they know anything about it, when they truly don’t know. Claims like ‘My 5 years old could have done that’ specially bothers me, but I’m learning to ignore all those voices conjuring ideas that are completely dull.

Also, the idea of cameras taking pictures of everything, when the eyes of people who are holding those cameras like a bible are completely blind. I will always remember the first time I was in front of Starry night, by Vincent Van Gogh, one of my favorites, I don’t care it’s mainstream. I remember everyone with a camera, even two, counting their phone camera and everyone starting at the screen. I don’t get it, you are in front of fucking Starry Night and you keep on looking at your mobile or camera screen, imitating art.

I’m mentioning this because I think it’s related to the idea of rejecting L’art pour l’art.

 

Home.

I remember counting days to disappear again, into a summer bliss.

Now I’m sitting here in my living room trying to figure out what to do. Tomorrow I’ll be heading for the mountains again, those tops that seem so high you could climb them and touch the sky. Another though my brain promotes that leads to solace.

This summer I won’t go to any mayor city in the world, although I’ve visited Barcelona a few weeks ago and I’m constantly going to Madrid, which I’m starting to realize it’s more like home.

I’ve heard a lot of people talking about what the perfect idea of ‘Home’ is. There’s this saying: home is where the heart is,  but seriously, what’s the point in claiming such a thing? What does the heart have to do with the feeling of being at home?

I think the idea of home changes constantly. And there’s a time when you feel like you don’t belong at all, like if suddenly the word ‘home’ became a tale spread by word-of-mouth that isn’t true at all, some kind of myth. But sometimes  you really feel you long to be somewhere, or with someone. and the idea of home totally makes sense. You might be away from someone you love, but whenever you both are together, never minding the place, even if it’s the ugliest and more devastating and dreadful place in the world, you feel like home.

So since I’m not at home and I’m feeling homesick as an astronaut, I’m trying to take some comfort in written words.

Hope you’re having a wonderful summer.

Robin McLaurin Williams.

Look me in the eyes,

this is only for the lucky people,

take me for a ride

and let’s try to feel alive.

But every now and then,

you feel like you’re mistaken,

you feel you don’t belong,

and you wonder what was wrong,

what was wrong.

Tell me another lie,

big enough for me to shallow,

take your time,

while you imagine how they’ll cry.

And then you realize,

You’re not talking to anyone,

that voice you heard before,

is your heart trying to hold on.

On art and vacuum.

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Tonight, at 2AM I decided that it’s a good night to write, even though I have quite a long list of things to do for next week, but it’s fine, I finished a painting and I’m way more relaxed right now.

But the thing is, I was thinking that maybe, art can’t exist in a vacuum.

What do I mean by this?

Well, I really think art is essentially communication, most artist use art as a way of telling what they’re feeling, what they think about something or as a way to complain about anything.

Anyway, I don’t want you to think about what the artist pretends to use his masterpiece for, what I want you to notice is that just as there’s no air in a perfect vacuum, there’s no art without trying to communicate A.K.A vacuum.

I think that’s the main reason why people make art, so other people can relate to it. 

I know this idea is pretty simple,but I think it’s important to think about it and I wanted to write it down since it enables me to clarify things.

Thank you for reading and sorry for being away for such a long time. 

Motion.

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I find that motion helps my brain. This statement just popped in my mind, while I´m traveling at 300km/h on a high-speed train coming back to Madrid.

Planes, trains, cars, walking, seem to work as a catalyst, so I guess the thing is motion.

Motion is constantly helping me think, it allows my mind wander limitless field and my thoughts dance to the beat and I can’t make them stop.

I’ve always had this feeling, I don’t know if it’s because since I was a little girl I’ve been traveling frequently, but I guess it isn’t, because I know a lot of people who used to travel way more than me and they start feeling homesick from the moment they feel they are going anywhere, some others feel the urge to arrive save and sound as soon as possible and others start getting sick, I guess you can call it motion sickness.

Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with my train thoughts at these hours, I just wanted to share with you my thoughts, because I’d never really thought about that this way but certainly motion is the key.

Typewriter font and a large list of thoughts.

The latest months I’ve been living in this outrageous place called Madrid. This strange place keeps me running in circles without a clear idea of where I want to get. All my thoughts have turned into ashes, and I can’t find a way to make them burn once again. My mind spins around one more time. All this seems like a parlor trick, and I still feel as if I could crack the code, when I know I don’t.

I don’t have a great story to tell, I can only write and pretend that all I know is worth spreading, everyone knows that any idea is pointless if you don’t tell anyone about it, but how telling someone about anything you’ve think of makes it a great idea?

I don’t think that’s the point. I think there are a lot of ideas that none but you will ever know about that once, were worth thinking.

Also, whether you want to share it or not, the key is thinking, keeping yourself busy, proving little facts in your mind and exploring and questioning everything.

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