Visionary Art

“There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual. Such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom. If one could but recall his vision by some sort of sign. It was in this hope that the arts were invented. Sign-posts on the way to what may be. Sign-posts toward a greater knowledge.”

Robert Henri

“My delight in existence is on this level: to shower death with a fireworks of life.”

Salvador Dali

SPIRITUALITY IS WHAT MATURITY LOOKS LIKE TO THE IMMATURE

TRIUMPH OF PSYCHE

TO AN OVERPOPULATED, EMPTY AGE:

The more I learn about the world, the bigger and more beautiful it seems. But each herd, with its ideologies, wants to shrink it back down to a tiny little picture. And they’re all arguing whose little picture is the correct little picture.

Their herding instinct is the source of their ideologies and institutions; their corporations, their governments, their religions; fossilized machines without a heart, where the means have frozen into arbitrary ends in themselves. And then they ignore the sensible rules.

The speed limit is 25. I speed up to nearly 30 and the guy behind me is still tailgating. I look around and see half-a-dozen on cell phones. Only one using a blinker. Two squeezing through a yellow, then red, light. Four or five following too close. All driving too fast.

SURRECTION

TONAL ARRANGEMENT	You can make excuses for anything. And the majority of the human race IS. By moowing.
But they are good people on the inside. Helping to battle those evil rich people. Or fags and abortion clinics. It’s easy to strike a moral pose about something when it’s someone else’s something. When it's another herd. Most humans are kept in check only by their social drives. Peer pressure is king. Conformity their god. In their car they feel anonymous, invisible, alone. That’s why they need their cell phones. And music blasting. Alone with their own mind is hell. When no one is watching, there’s no one to strike poses for. So they drive like fools.		ARRIVAL OF CERTAINTY

THE BOX

The deepest meaning of their existance is that their parents fucked. They’ve been filling their empiness with endless duplication ever since. The loftiness of their creativity is to forever reproduce. Occasionally using different colors...and thinking themselves original.

They watch the same TV shows, like the same songs, cheer for the same ball teams. They trust the same politicians, believe the same myths, fail to ask the same deeper questions. Are brainswashed by the same repetitive advertisements.

There’s nothing unique or special, or particularly wonderful, about them—other than the ability to look like others, sound like others, reproduce like others.

THE BOWL

And strike the proper poses...for others.
It's a healthy developmental phase in childhood. But one to outgrow. Like sticking things in your mouth and sucking. But you see that everywhere, too. Which is why they do it.
The secret of longevity is flexibility. If you’re okay with ruts, with arbitrary rules, with herds, you’re soul is already dead.
Hey, all you meaningful people in the world; rise up! Produce meaning, don’t reproduce it. And ignore their pointing fingers. They seek only to duplicate themselves in you. The herds will use Justice to hide their violence. Your existence threatens the denial they need.
Live out, but not against. And not with anger, but with the power of your creative energy. Wear your superficial costume for protection, if necessary. But hurt no one. Just create your art, your music, your poetry and your dances, and make sure they're fluid and alive and liquid. Don't just make cakes, invent recipes! Ones without grass. The cattle will ignore you or hate you; but your soul will live. Your body will live longer if you grow up and drive right, too.