Sunday, June 7, 2020

SPACE

How do I feel? Okay. What do I want? I want to see bigger things. Not the nothing of everyday. I was not born for this. I was born for higher things yes. I will see. I will clear a space. It becomes apparent  to me now that space is what is needed. Space. Throw out your crap. Get rid. Time for it now, you'll find what you need don't hoard. Space. Space. I need space. Space. Space. Space. Space. Space doesn't exist without not-space, i.e. an object. That is the creative difficulty. Finding an object that acts as a frame for space, even though it is enclosed by space. I am a big object. I am full*. Now. I have no room left inside. Am I a proper object to frame space? I am in the space like a toy drum set, A blue sparkle dazzler, a fake cosmos. I play there. We never left. Space. Clear out these words, poetic as they may seem. Space is where the thing is, the object, the sputnik satellite. Your art object. Your spiritual totem. Make space your friend. Your enemy is clutter, visual, mental, temporal. This space, not thens; or whens. This space. now. Space is your friend. In every way, shape and formless. Never say goodbye to form in your work; simply create the space to form it. Make the space equal the form at least. No space means no form: clutter. You can never be inebriated with clutter, only intoxicated. Come back to space, and take your place. You will create space for someone else, being the proper object. Simply by observing space and limiting yourself to round smiles and not adding "arms and legs" to the deal you format yourself to modesty in a becoming manner, drawing attention to space around you, in a most charming and delightful way. You are the art/object now.

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