Art

I see an orb of spirit, floating above Mother Earth’s head, in a propitious manner. Out of every living creature, the orb is fed their consciousness, whatever good or bad it brings. The little mayfly and the mightiest of human beings both create a net impact on the collective consciousness. Whatever impact that may be, depends on two things: The amount of people/things that they serve, and how well they serve them (do their means satisfy their ends?). We are built to serve; to increase life for ourselves by increasing the life of others. When we do such a thing, we impact the collective consciousness positively. Otherwise, when we decrease life, take away, compete, screw others over, we are not only robbing any potential of joy for ourselves, but for our one true mother, Mother Earth.

You see, Mother Earth is not some dumb broad, or some lifeless stretch of soil waiting for us egotistical and demi-godical humans to breathe life into. Mother Earth has her own consciousness, her own unique brand of intelligence, her own style of living. She is a sentient being, capable of thinking and using GOD’S might just like the rest of us. She is the reason why we are here, and she is the reason why we will go away, just like every other species.

If she decides that enough is enough, I’m tired of being treated like a wastebasket to these imbeciles who don’t even realize how much they are hurting themselves by hurting me, then she can cut off our water supply, and start a new science experiment.

Yes, we, as human beings, are her science experiment. We were chosen by her, by merely the act of choosing, to be the ultimate gardener and cultivator of her majesty. She believes in us enough to have given us this much breathing room. This much space to fuck up. This much margin of error. But, even beings with a lifespan several billion times our own have a breaking point.  Her patience is running thin. Her veil that protects us from her chaotic nature is turning into rags. She can no longer coddle us, and what we are doing to protect ourselves will no longer satisfy.

The coronavirus is just a sign of what is to come. We went from small tribes, to small states, to city-states, to countries, and now we are reaching the horizon of global citizenship. A global planet, where all of our resources will be subjugated to one country, under one cause. A brave new world. Unless we are able to change who we are as a civilization, and what we stand for, then succumbing to the will of Mother Earth will be our impending doom. Or we will end ourselves as quickly as we began, either way change must be had.

The pinnacle of all human change can be attested to the arts. The media that we consume dictates the quality of human being that we will become. It’s just that simple. Art, being the highpoint of human media, faces, has always faced, and will always face a pivotal role in the values and beliefs of our society. From cave paintings, to Egyptian sarcophagi, to middle aged religious dogma, to modern surrealism, to our current post-modern shit-hole, we have always been deeply influenced by art and artists.

With that being said, we need to get down to the bottom of this everso perplexing question. Why art? Why do people even make art at all? What is the point of the arts? Why have certain members of our species gone completely rogue and decided to commit themselves to things that produce nothing of objective value in this material world? Why do they waste time and resources into creating something that is not of any utility? Can you create a catalytic converter using a Picasso? Can you farm food for a dying village by using a Miles Davis record? Can you build a house by watching Mikhail Baryshnikov dance? We all know the answers to those questions. So what is it? What is the reason for art? Why do we even bother? 

I’ve been pondering this question for a while now, and I have come to a somewhat decent conclusion recently. A somewhat decent enough of a conclusion to write about it, at least. 

All of the arts are a spiritual practice. Extrapolations of the dreamland. Art represents ideas foreign to our consciousness, but familiar and loved to our subconscious minds. Art grips us on a deeper level unknown in the slightest degree. It is the process of one mind articulating to another mind, on a mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical level, with the hopes that the other person can formulate some sort of perception. To pervade is the basic goal of any artform.

Us humans use art as a bridge of persuasion through pervasion; a communication tool that we on the lower plane, receive from the higher plane. 

So who, in their right mind, would decide to do something so noble as to make art? Well, boys and girls, it takes a certain breed of crazy to produce an artist. But, I feel like the number one ingredient is a broken heart.

The artist is someone who can never understand or come to terms with the current structure of the material world. He or she knows that they are virtually powerless to change the everso corrupt system that they must engage in, either actively or passively. Naturally, every artist reaches the impasse that they must use the one and only power in their possession (never fully, you are a fool to believe that you have complete control over anything that you do, let alone something as plenipotentiarily  complicated as the human mind), with the aid of the universe, (the one mind, GOD, the same soul that expresses itself in different ways) for the express purpose of creating their own world. Their own reality. Their own rules, structures, and safe spaces.

So, although art has in and of itself no practical uses, outside of the provocative messages that art tends to provide us, we cherish and value art for its inexplicably stupefying power to not only appeal to our base instincts, but to our higher and finer personalities as well. However, we cannot forget its equally transcendental effect to transport us into the artist’s world. 

Although we will never be on solid footing in the artist’s space, it is there that lies the beauty of it all. 

Art makes us think, it makes us question ourselves, our values, our belief systems, our sense of identity, our purpose, our worth. It is a reciprocal process, digesting art. We, as the active observers, try to comprehend the artist’s work. The only way to slay that beast is to question ourselves. To look within and figure out what makes us who we are. In accomplishing such a task, we can then find out how much we tend to superimpose our biases over the artist's perspective on such matters. When we are honest with our own viewpoint of the world, then, and only then, can we summon the space necessary to let the art be. We create a platform of light in the dark arts of the artist's psyche. When we have those basic understandings, then art seems less about the colors and shapes, and more about the connection of minds, hearts, and spirits. For we know that the artist is an introspective individual. From the first stroke, to the last breath, they question themselves, either actively (consciously), or passively (subconsciously), on such a recurring basis, that people call them crazy for it. Let them.

Artists are beacons of light for the everso gloomy collective consciousness. Their guidance leads us through the troubling times, and reminds us of the innate strength that is wrapped in our utter fragility, and infinitesimal futility of existence.

Believe it or not, the collective consciousness dictates the art that is provided to the world. Art is only considered Art by the purpose that it serves (how its means satisfies its end). (Now each person is subject to their own classification of art, but let’s not kid ourselves here. The ethereal qualities that art provides are universally understood only to the level of understanding that the collective consciousness provides. Perfect example, Van Gogh. We consider Van Gogh to be art, but the collective consciousness in his area at the time had the opinion that he was a half-deaf wackjob who deserved to die a pauper.) To serve a purpose for the sake of humanity is no small feat, for most of humanity are in a bitter life and death struggle to avoid change at all costs. We all know how much Art causes people to change. Its origination is developed in a higher intellegential field than our own. Of course we won’t understand it fully, and its messages won’t be received fully either, but they are really there for the future anyways. Art is a prophesical sport of sorts; a cult of soothesayers and forward-thinkers. Of course people will hate it, but it’s not for them. It’s for the artists of the future to look back on and draw inspiration from. 

Art that is appreciated fully during its time is a miracle in and of itself, but to apprehend it is really impossible. The person creating it doesn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of their creation, so how can we, the people who observe the finished product, have any glimmer of a chance in understanding the art? And yet, we try, and in our effort lies another one of arts profoundest truths.

It’s up for interpretation. It is so subjective and personal, our connection to art. What we perceive at the first aesthetic hit is different than how we perceive it ten years later. How we perceive it one year later. Shit, how it affects us a mere ten seconds later. The art creates a custom-made experience, tailored to the plethora of variables that shaped our understanding of the world, ourselves, and the artists. It’s like watching spongebob as a kid, and laughing at all of the crude humour and obvious pundits, and then watching it as an adult, and realizing how portentous and devastating of a character Squidward is. Every time you revisit art, it demands of you, your fullest attention in the present moment, for no two glances at a piece of art are ever the same.

Art converts us into present, deep-breath taking, individuals who are unafraid to peak behind the curtain of perception that the ego has us hidden under, if but only for a moment.

We need that presence of mind and mental clarity now more than ever. We can all safely say that 2020 has been a challenging year, but all history indicates that it is only the beginning of a string of challenging years that will occur. The roarin’ 20s are going to happen, shit is going to hit the fan, and the world will fall into another round of fear-based mind control. But, you know what will be there through it all, as guideposts and landmarks and lighthouses through the choppy and uncertain waters that we will tread? Not religion, religion is good but it only is good enough for the sheeple who have blind faith. Not the government, shit that boy is the reason why we are in this mess. Not the capitalists, nor the communists, nor the socialists, they all are too busy fighting each other. 

There is only one ist that has always prevailed for human kind, the artist. Art can change the whole scenery of the collective consciousness in one fell swoop. Art can inspire movements, revelations and revolutions, scenes, pockets of like-minded and influential individuals. Art brings us together, it creates our bands, our tribes, our sense of community. Art is something that the new leaders can draw upon as a source of inspiration, and a safety net into their plunge of chaos. Artists do all of the shadowwork, the heavy lifting, the grappling with inutility, in order to push humanity to new and greater heights, to increase life, to make the collective consciousness a little bit better so that we can live a little bit longer. The greatest art is to endure, and as a species we will, so long as there are a few rogue individuals left in the mix.