This started with the Dan Perjovschi video below. Saw it on YouTube. Made me really sad. Attempted a long comment. The silly YouTube comment system drew me off. So consider everything below the video to be the comment I would have contributed there if they only would have let me. Just a preview: this isn't art. Now see the movie, read the comment and then check back for more on arts and the inherent subliminal unhappiness in your life - with this kind of "art", no wonder.
Saw it? Here's what I would have stated (if the comment could have more than 500 characters and wouldn't have to be approved first...):
Yes... yet another mega-silly "artistic" trial. And another list of equally silly comments. "MoMA doesn't makemastakes" (wrong spelling kept)?! Really?!
What is art, actually? Let's not get into it right now... The above "effort" does a great job in demonstrating what art is not, though. Everything that is "different" automatically qualifies as art? Satire at all cost - is it inherent art? Think not. Look at the above "work". Look again. Closely. Does it fill your soul with emotions unknown in nature or intensity? Does it lift you and transport you into the "beyond"? Does it better you in some way? Maybe it does all of that to you. Honestly, please allow me to sincerely doubt that also.
To me (and I respect all other opinions, disagreeing as I may), THAT is definitely not art, nor is it even an artistic attempt. It is merely the strange (at most) doing of an average guy that read some stuff, saw some news bulletins, definitely ripped-off some age-old philosophical and political ideas and then drew some silly things. Being an Eastern European, which is very trendy nowadays, he just got lucky with this pathetic display of... generic lacking in all artistic areas. I saw almost everything that is drawn on that wall, in variations, in many pub toilets or back-streets. Not to mention the countless stuff I "painted" myself on a piece of paper while bored. So what? What is this? Philosophy for the mentally impaired? Ethics for the weary eyes of the drunk?
And you say MoMA is always right? C'mon... As almost everything these days, this guy's "success" is definitely political - the jaded Easterner that simply "knows" more and "sees" more clearly than the average Joe: let's get him in, throw a few bucks his way and put him on display.
Unfortunately, this guy also seems pretty self-sufficient, as he talks along this video, proving right all the cliches applying to most "modern" artists, including that disgusting dissimulation of some "journey" of artistic (and beyond) self-discovery (and of illuminating of other fellow humans in the process, why not) and that even more disgusting display of false modesty that can be found in too many of these "artists". In other words, he's all "out there" and "honest" and "modest" and... yeah, right. He's one thing, and one thing only: lucky.
These apply, as stated before, to MANY of those guys on that scene, performing similar utter stupidities that they have the nerve to call "art". "Modern art". Yes, it is "modern", as it happens now (damn it), but let's trim the "art", as this definitely isn't.
Of course, feel free to comment yourself, if so inclined.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Friday, November 03, 2006
The ultimate purpose of life
Yes, I have found the ultimate formula. After over thirty years of torment I have finally found it. After long nights of agony, reading all that's been ever written, in a never ceasing attempt to ease the pain of having to see the world falling appart all around. I questioned all those great minds of the past, I've searched all those great souls of the ancients and kept on suffering. You know what I mean: I wasn't sick, I wasn't hungry or thirsty, I wasn't cold or alone - nevertheless, I suffered, as it is in the nature of the contemporary biped animal - to suffer of never being content, happy or serene. Because I chose so. Yes, truism follows: if you're like me, you suffer because you chose to - and this is not taken from some book, it is one natural conclusion yielded by a much delayed introspective trip.
I was just doing a paint job on a metal gate of my aunt's, somewhere in the suburbs of this rather big yet forsaken city I live in. I painted it gray. Well, first I had do disassemble it, polish it then prepare it for the paint coating. Truth be said, the gate needed this badly, given its utterly decrepit look. I worked on it, part time, almost a month. People wondered why it took so long to paint the damned gate. I certainly took my sweet time with it, working as if I was meditating, and that no one could grasp. Some folks passing by threw at me pieces of advice I did not require nor needed. Others that knew me expressed their indignation - I was kind of going below my social status (mention needed, I'm actually a surgeon) and people don't like it when that happens, because all of us, hypocrites as we are, like to delude ourselves with this kind of nothingness that is the caste system. Anyhow, a mean wave of cold air and snow came upon us today, announcing a wicked winter. It caught me painting metal, and I felt it mostly in my hands. All of these inspired me. Not in the crappy charlatanic new age kind of way and certainly not in the "classic" mad guru/pseudo-christian preacher way. "Dubito ergo cogito, cogito ergo sum" - "I doubt therefore I think, I think therefore I am" applies to me, as I am a man of science, so how else could I have reaped the fruits of such inspiration, if not by mostly intellectual means. Therefore I thought. And my thoughts where finally luminating, right there in the cutting cold of this bleak day, surrounded by surreal november snow, painting some metal gray. How can anyone put this so that it won't sound like philosophical trash? Or like the blathering of the insane? Or like some production of a flat brain? Let me assure you that there is no way for you to perceive it otherwise than falling into one of these categories, that which I am about to declare. Because everything is nowadays leveled, there are no public peaks anymore. The philosophers made room for "philoshoppers". YOU will not change reading this, you will not meditate on this and ultimately, you will not have the patience to read this entirely - because, just like I was, you're sick with this fast paced modernity. So, no matter how I put this, to you it will appear stupid, dull, redundant, useless, precious, unrealistic or having any other negative attributes. I will just cut it short and tell you what is the ultimate purpose of life. Assuming you are interested in that information. You're not, really? Well, maybe you are and you don't know it yet. You know how you have to always find something to do so that you are never actually alone? How you always crave that which you cannot afford or are not entitled to? How you always escape into frivolity so that you don't have to deal with the ugliness and hardness in this world? Or maybe how you start off each day by negating everything, trapped in some long expired romantic stereotype? Do you remember that you are actually not happy? If any of these interrogations gets a affirmation out of you, than I must say that you are interested in the purpose of life, whether you like it or not. This is good, it means you're not yet completely dead to yourself. So, what could be the ultimate purpose of life? Fun? Doubt it. Anyone who's had enough of it can tell you that too much fun is not funny anymore. Work? Idem. God? I don't know. Anyone who does, please contact me. Honour? Unnaturally possible. The continuous pursuit of beauty? Hmmm. A superficial analysis will show that there is no one thing that could possibly constitute in itself the purpose of life. The definition must encompass much more, as much as life itself. So, here it is, the purpose of life, simplified and crystal clear: "Do good while feeling good". OK, now that you made up your mind about the category in which this declaration falls (philosophical trash/insane blathering/flat brain speaking), let me tell you that I am not a philosopher, I am certainly not insane and I am (modesty aside) a very smart man. Also, I am not a "very young" man anymore. I have seen life in all its aspects, I've seen happiness and sadness riding along each other, I've seen babies being born into this world, little angels bringing some light into its darkness, I've whitnessed the moment of departure from their mother's womb, as I have seen the souls raising from the bodies of the sick and cried by the cold carcasses of my fellow men. I've saved some lives and I've released some pain, privileged by my profession in this world. I stood and listen to Siddartha and Jesus, I walked with the old Greeks, I've applauded Dostoevsky and loved Nietzsche. I speak three languages. I've pretty much lived or read or heard it all. I also painted a gate gray. So, you see, what I found to be the ultimate purpose of life is not to be discarded easily. It is the starting point and the end of the trip. Yes, it is a trip. Because you may search the books, read about Heaven and Hell and Valhalla and kharma and science and pseudo-science and whatever... you will either reach this point or you will never "get it". And as long as your cultivated arrogance or excesive love for sophistication stand in your way, you'll neither really take the trip nor get to the endpoint otherwise.
Do good: you'll never ever be completely serene otherwise. This is immutable. Simply because, unless you are evil incarnate, that (whatever small) good part of you will never let you rest if you don't give it satisfaction. This is the point where you may start laughing. You're a tough human, you hurt everyone around, you are able to inflict harm and are immune to whatever retaliation faith has in store for you. Whatever you do, good or bad, you still feel good, do you not? Think again.
Feel good: you'll never be truly able to do good if you are unable to make yourself feel good. Be surprised now at how truly easy it is for one to feel good... if one really wants just that, instead of cultivating (knowingly or not) that silly state of permanent insatisfaction. I'll tell you a lot more about why you don't let yourself feel good later.
While: the above are related, the doing of good must occur simultaneously with feeling good, in every single moment of your passing life.
Unrealistic expectations: you are most certainly not perfect and you will never be perfect. This is also immutable. You struggle for happiness, not perfection. That is why your battle can be won.
Purpose: why is doing good a "purpose", which implies some kind of finality? Because it is the only possible purpose for such a large thing as life. No other has that much required worth. Stop and think about it and realize this is absolutely pure and true. All other would be purposes are simply too small and limited. Experiment: make money your purpose in life; assume you become loaded, you have it all; now what? Oh, yeah, spend it. Shelter, food, sex, social status, entertainment - you will storm the world with your cash and maybe you'll become esteemed and feared. Now what? Oh, yeah, again. There is just this one little thing you cannot buy, whatever that is - the love of one particular woman, a deep night's sleep, a stronger health, a bigger... organ, whatever. Now what? Yeap, just as a mere penniless person would do, drink your way into some cheap peace of mind, take some pills, continue to get fat, in one sentence - continue to delude yourself. You'll be a better dressed unhappy individual, just like any other. During this entire experiment, bear in mind that your time here is limited. Even money has a price.
Define good: there is a common thread to all religions, a common ground for all wisdom in this world - "thou shalt not kill" in every language. What is unclear here ?! Along with every other bit of tender advice or guidline humans gave to each other all along history. Is this not simple enough? Why is such simple stuff so hard to understand and follow? What exactly is "good"? This is a question only a computer could ask innocently. A grown up civilised human asking that makes proof of his/her perversion. I mean, really, can't you tell ?! The knowledge of what is "good" has already been imprinted in what you are (even if you are evil incarnate), you are definitely able to discern. You choose not to, whenever it is convenient to you. So pretend not that you "did not now better". Just do good, plain and simple. I also recommend you watch Boondock Saints for some hints.
I'll tell you some more, rather soon, about the roots of your subliminal unhappiness. A man knowing these should make haste "as if hit by an arrow", as the ancients used to say. I'll show you your chains and give you the tools to cut them off. You'll use it if your suffering awoke you. If not, dream on.
I found it, after all, and I gave it to you too. My soul is at rest
I was just doing a paint job on a metal gate of my aunt's, somewhere in the suburbs of this rather big yet forsaken city I live in. I painted it gray. Well, first I had do disassemble it, polish it then prepare it for the paint coating. Truth be said, the gate needed this badly, given its utterly decrepit look. I worked on it, part time, almost a month. People wondered why it took so long to paint the damned gate. I certainly took my sweet time with it, working as if I was meditating, and that no one could grasp. Some folks passing by threw at me pieces of advice I did not require nor needed. Others that knew me expressed their indignation - I was kind of going below my social status (mention needed, I'm actually a surgeon) and people don't like it when that happens, because all of us, hypocrites as we are, like to delude ourselves with this kind of nothingness that is the caste system. Anyhow, a mean wave of cold air and snow came upon us today, announcing a wicked winter. It caught me painting metal, and I felt it mostly in my hands. All of these inspired me. Not in the crappy charlatanic new age kind of way and certainly not in the "classic" mad guru/pseudo-christian preacher way. "Dubito ergo cogito, cogito ergo sum" - "I doubt therefore I think, I think therefore I am" applies to me, as I am a man of science, so how else could I have reaped the fruits of such inspiration, if not by mostly intellectual means. Therefore I thought. And my thoughts where finally luminating, right there in the cutting cold of this bleak day, surrounded by surreal november snow, painting some metal gray. How can anyone put this so that it won't sound like philosophical trash? Or like the blathering of the insane? Or like some production of a flat brain? Let me assure you that there is no way for you to perceive it otherwise than falling into one of these categories, that which I am about to declare. Because everything is nowadays leveled, there are no public peaks anymore. The philosophers made room for "philoshoppers". YOU will not change reading this, you will not meditate on this and ultimately, you will not have the patience to read this entirely - because, just like I was, you're sick with this fast paced modernity. So, no matter how I put this, to you it will appear stupid, dull, redundant, useless, precious, unrealistic or having any other negative attributes. I will just cut it short and tell you what is the ultimate purpose of life. Assuming you are interested in that information. You're not, really? Well, maybe you are and you don't know it yet. You know how you have to always find something to do so that you are never actually alone? How you always crave that which you cannot afford or are not entitled to? How you always escape into frivolity so that you don't have to deal with the ugliness and hardness in this world? Or maybe how you start off each day by negating everything, trapped in some long expired romantic stereotype? Do you remember that you are actually not happy? If any of these interrogations gets a affirmation out of you, than I must say that you are interested in the purpose of life, whether you like it or not. This is good, it means you're not yet completely dead to yourself. So, what could be the ultimate purpose of life? Fun? Doubt it. Anyone who's had enough of it can tell you that too much fun is not funny anymore. Work? Idem. God? I don't know. Anyone who does, please contact me. Honour? Unnaturally possible. The continuous pursuit of beauty? Hmmm. A superficial analysis will show that there is no one thing that could possibly constitute in itself the purpose of life. The definition must encompass much more, as much as life itself. So, here it is, the purpose of life, simplified and crystal clear: "Do good while feeling good". OK, now that you made up your mind about the category in which this declaration falls (philosophical trash/insane blathering/flat brain speaking), let me tell you that I am not a philosopher, I am certainly not insane and I am (modesty aside) a very smart man. Also, I am not a "very young" man anymore. I have seen life in all its aspects, I've seen happiness and sadness riding along each other, I've seen babies being born into this world, little angels bringing some light into its darkness, I've whitnessed the moment of departure from their mother's womb, as I have seen the souls raising from the bodies of the sick and cried by the cold carcasses of my fellow men. I've saved some lives and I've released some pain, privileged by my profession in this world. I stood and listen to Siddartha and Jesus, I walked with the old Greeks, I've applauded Dostoevsky and loved Nietzsche. I speak three languages. I've pretty much lived or read or heard it all. I also painted a gate gray. So, you see, what I found to be the ultimate purpose of life is not to be discarded easily. It is the starting point and the end of the trip. Yes, it is a trip. Because you may search the books, read about Heaven and Hell and Valhalla and kharma and science and pseudo-science and whatever... you will either reach this point or you will never "get it". And as long as your cultivated arrogance or excesive love for sophistication stand in your way, you'll neither really take the trip nor get to the endpoint otherwise.
Do good: you'll never ever be completely serene otherwise. This is immutable. Simply because, unless you are evil incarnate, that (whatever small) good part of you will never let you rest if you don't give it satisfaction. This is the point where you may start laughing. You're a tough human, you hurt everyone around, you are able to inflict harm and are immune to whatever retaliation faith has in store for you. Whatever you do, good or bad, you still feel good, do you not? Think again.
Feel good: you'll never be truly able to do good if you are unable to make yourself feel good. Be surprised now at how truly easy it is for one to feel good... if one really wants just that, instead of cultivating (knowingly or not) that silly state of permanent insatisfaction. I'll tell you a lot more about why you don't let yourself feel good later.
While: the above are related, the doing of good must occur simultaneously with feeling good, in every single moment of your passing life.
Unrealistic expectations: you are most certainly not perfect and you will never be perfect. This is also immutable. You struggle for happiness, not perfection. That is why your battle can be won.
Purpose: why is doing good a "purpose", which implies some kind of finality? Because it is the only possible purpose for such a large thing as life. No other has that much required worth. Stop and think about it and realize this is absolutely pure and true. All other would be purposes are simply too small and limited. Experiment: make money your purpose in life; assume you become loaded, you have it all; now what? Oh, yeah, spend it. Shelter, food, sex, social status, entertainment - you will storm the world with your cash and maybe you'll become esteemed and feared. Now what? Oh, yeah, again. There is just this one little thing you cannot buy, whatever that is - the love of one particular woman, a deep night's sleep, a stronger health, a bigger... organ, whatever. Now what? Yeap, just as a mere penniless person would do, drink your way into some cheap peace of mind, take some pills, continue to get fat, in one sentence - continue to delude yourself. You'll be a better dressed unhappy individual, just like any other. During this entire experiment, bear in mind that your time here is limited. Even money has a price.
Define good: there is a common thread to all religions, a common ground for all wisdom in this world - "thou shalt not kill" in every language. What is unclear here ?! Along with every other bit of tender advice or guidline humans gave to each other all along history. Is this not simple enough? Why is such simple stuff so hard to understand and follow? What exactly is "good"? This is a question only a computer could ask innocently. A grown up civilised human asking that makes proof of his/her perversion. I mean, really, can't you tell ?! The knowledge of what is "good" has already been imprinted in what you are (even if you are evil incarnate), you are definitely able to discern. You choose not to, whenever it is convenient to you. So pretend not that you "did not now better". Just do good, plain and simple. I also recommend you watch Boondock Saints for some hints.
I'll tell you some more, rather soon, about the roots of your subliminal unhappiness. A man knowing these should make haste "as if hit by an arrow", as the ancients used to say. I'll show you your chains and give you the tools to cut them off. You'll use it if your suffering awoke you. If not, dream on.
I found it, after all, and I gave it to you too. My soul is at rest
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