I have signed up to get an artist-a-day on my homepage, so I can gauge where I am on the artist wannabe scale. And, so far, I am nowhere, because I don't do design or abstract or installations or fabrics or just plain what-is-that-anyway stuff. My favorite so far was a pitch black swamp, complete with reeds and a pond, three-dimensional and stuck into a corner. I wondered if that artist had ever seen mold. That is what it reminded me of, and I just have to lift the shower curtain a little to see that (actually, I took the bleach spray bottle to it soon after I saw the display. For some reason, I like color, and flowers, and a certain elan that these artist seem to lack. Now, I am all in favor of social commentary. I just don't think that is a proper use of art. Whole schools of art came out of that kind of dissatisfaction. Surrealism, for one. Dada, for another. Both lack any semblance of beauty, or order, for that matter. Give me Jackson Pollack any day. His stuff at least embraces passion, all that splashing around. Of course, he was drunk, too. There seems to be this vein of darkness running through the art world. I suppose it is as Eckhart Tolle says, ego stuff. When I am in the zone, there is no me, just the medium and the support and the work. I like the world of no me. I'm going to hang out there as much as possible.
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