The teleological endpoint for art is always NOW, a NOW of eternal becoming that will never arrive.
Thinking, how so much art criticism and theory exists in a secularized teleological framework, drawn from Christian theology, but which has no endpoint but the present.
I love her blog. Beautiful art, and always something to learn. She must be an AWESOME teacher. Her students are very lucky. I linked THIS, because I’m feeling bliss, having spent the whole day painting–finished #379 (photo tomorrow)… even though orange is my ANXIETY COLOR!
I love the story of the origins of Indian Yellow… the sacred urine from the cow, the lush sensual color of the mango–synaesthesia– color you can taste!
I’m convinced that synaesthesia underlies all the arts.. the bed rock. How else is it, that we associate colors with emotions? I don’t.. quite… taste color. Or see sounds. But pretty close. And what would poetry be if not for the power of words to link all our senses?
You ask–what of conceptual poetry?
What of it? I’m no gatekeeper. I don’t make–or believe in rules that say what can or can’t be art, or poetry! But I think conceptual poetry draws on something of the power of fiction/crossed with philosophy: in that it conjures alternate realities… that is… alternate to our received and habitual ways of comprehending the world.
It’s the transgressing of boundaries that all forms of art have in common, sensual, imaginative, cognitive, and in this age of our Empire of Money & Death… Political!
As a poet, I learned that language is not our friend.
As a visual artist, I learned that what we see is not the truth.