When I was in first grade my brother Gabriel was in third. He informed me that he would be a writer once he had achieved adulthood. I was the visual artist along with my eldest brother. In many ways these were our roles that had been assigned to us from our own cosmos. I have always enjoyed writing, thinking up stories and as the title of this blog clearly states spent sometime creating comic books. But I was not the writer of the family. My brother, father, uncle, these are the people who held such a title. Now, as my brother married and scrambling to build a life for himself and his wife has put writing aside, I am finally starting to question these roles. I am writing.
One thing that has intrigued me is how many authors set their stories in real or imagined pasts or futures. In their quests for drama, and action, they must change the world. Reformulate it to a time where stories unfold, where heroes, not just rube's like us live.
But wait. What is wrong with our time. Whether we know it or not we live in a science future. Because we live in such an important, unique time we have been separated from the drama of our times. Most of us are neither rich nor powerful enough to feel that we are involved. And yet we are.
Being an artist and a traveler, I have lived through many stories, and they continue, in many ways every day as I attempt to hustle a life out of art. Art is a horrible money making scheme. People like it as a concept, and many people enjoy seeing someone painting a picture on the street. They feel cultured, and the grand design of society seems to be in fulfillment when an artist is present. But Americans do not want to pay for it, usually even if they are getting it for cheap. Art is something the organizations that run everything should somehow support, right.
I cannot be governed by money. Money doesn't get me up in the morning, it does not wander through a setting with me, and help me find a composition. It doesn't sit with me while I paint, doesn't help me perceive the colors and shapes and form them on the canvas. Money has no involvement in my creative process. For that reason I am one of two thing, or maybe both. A failure, and or locked in to a different value system than the society around me.
Our day and age, predominantly capitalism and the way it has manifested itself in our time defines our principles and values. There are ways in which this system allows humans to explore themselves and the beings they want to be, and ways in which they are stifled, and held back. The stymied being is growing more apparent as our own regulatory elements grow more pervasive.
This is where the artist steps in. Where we dig down and quest for a new meaning, a new set of values. Or rather a new focusing, on something that feels more authentic to us, as people. Where do these principles sprout from. The earth of course. I can think of no truer saying then you will reap just what you sow. I mean it is always apparent, a well made object will always out last and be more valuable then an object that received little thought and development. But I am getting sidetracked. What I came here to speak of is the story of our times. the shifting of our attitudes towards, in lieu of a better word, a more sustainable society and ethics. This is the story of our time. And it does not have to do with only the destruction of our planet and it's natural resources. It has to do with the destruction of each other and our cultures. As Americans we are sidelined as passively acquiescing this dismal reality. No body really wants to address it 'cause we are too tightly bonded to our system. That is, there are no easy answers and the one thing we are not free to do is change the way our system works. So we settle for our cars and televisions. We settle for our fantastical past and future stories full of drama and struggle. Our time is too convoluted, too confusing and too personal. We are so bound by right and wrong we cannot even look at our own time without growing uncomfortable.
It is not my desire to condemn the American citizen. I am one as well. What are we gonna do all join the peace core. Go to some impoverished country with a bunch of holier than thou nut jobs thinking they are saving the savages. NO. We have to dream. Dream a new world, but not like some burner talking about how better it could be. Until we realize that we must work for it. Because we will reap just what we sow.
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