Vincible

One doesn't simply 'create' art. Art manifests of its own timing, always an etch of those words that weren't said. The unsaid. The trains underneath a life punctiliously and continually kept open. They beckon the artist, and though it may seem he "can't help" but create, the artist's sole role is simply to stay open, subjugating his all to it all.

To both insanity and ecstasy, both addiction and worship are the artist privy, a consequence not of some selfish survival gene but of its opposite: exposure. By opening the inner self to everything, we experience anything. To subjugate oneself to life with all five senses and intuition, to best recreate without sacrificing any detail to that image - that is what we call art. Art is not creation, but recreation. To think is to lose. To classify is to lose. To speak is to lose. This is a precious secret.

And the person who has committed his perception, knowingly or not, in such a susceptible way is the person whose work resonates with people. And why shouldn't it? It's already truth, he just finds and resurrects it.

Somehow the artist knows that only the vincible places yield anything worthwhile. He maybe doesn't know that exactly, but he knows where to look.