Thursday, August 13, 2009

Incomplete

I'm finding that every aspect of my life seems to be a work in progress. This is very different from not being satisfied, as I am actually quite satisfied with numerous aspects. Perhaps it is just that incompletion is inevitable, leading to the idea that it shouldn't be a matter of frustration, that one should embrace incompletion. We go so far as to even find beauty in such imperfections; imperfection being used under the circumstance that completion equals perfection, vice versa. This is a whole other argument that I may choose to disagree with elsewhere. But for now, it could be seen as a landmark, a trophy, of experience, of age, or of perserverance. And more importantly it is the process that matters most isn't it. Because it's about the ride. How many people who are asked "what is your goal in life?" can answer "you're looking at it." I would very much like to meet one, and maybe drop kick the person.
I think we try and shorten this process in art. The fact that nothing ever seems finished could be attributed to the fact that I may not be very good at what I do. But that could be added to the appeal of incompletion, making it much for valuable than if it were completed. And you never know how many artists could bring themselves to stop working on a piece if there were no constraints. What if time never ran out, what if paint never ran out. It's impossible. Going back to life, we can work at it for ages, it will never be complete because it's not supposed to be. Moreover it doesn't have to be. This is where God comes in. (Not that God wasn't there in the first place, we just didn't care much for him. ) It is also the part where you ignore the part I said about not being able to complete anything. Through the artist, the imperfect art becomes perfect, at least to ourselves. God is the artist, we are the art. I find that my posts may not make much sense to readers every now and then. You are spot on if you know that maybe they are not supposed to.
I recently sold a painting of mine for much less than what it is worth. My favorite. The feeling is bittersweet. When the idea of a painting arises, there is never the intention of selling it. I cringe at the thought of what it must be like for people to make art for the sole purpose of money. It's a waste of talent really. As simple as it might be, this was the most meaningful piece I have ever done. It is perfect. Replicating it should not be a problem, but that isn't the issue. I had originally painted it for none other than myself. The same goes for all of my artwork. I did it for me. So to part with it for a mere few hundred dollars seems like a violation against nature. But then again I must pay rent. Yes my friends, there will always be rent.
If you don't understand it now, the concept will be featured soon on m-kyu.com. I am currently scheduling a launch date.








Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Inglorious

This cheered me up. I'm so ecstatic that I found it. From How to Behave: New rules for Highly Evolved Humans. With Ask a Basterd, featuring Brad Pitt, who gives very bad advice. But we love it. Straight out of the mind of Tyler Durden. Read it all here.


Monday, August 3, 2009

Retort

That was strange. Apologies. I am in a state of forced creativity. This is not working for me. It's an abuse of talent. I'm not fooling myself but at least I only have to fool them. God save us all.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Home

I realize that it's been quite a while since I've felt like I was home. Perhaps it's been so long that I no longer recognize the feeling, because I feel that I no longer have a home. The last time I stayed in one location for so long was 7 years ago, and even then I remember feeling eager to leave. It seems that wherever I go I am always waiting to go somewhere else; like I have to be mobile, for fear of falling off the edge of the world in the event that I stop. I remember the yearning for Fremont at one point that I allowed nothing to appease. After my return, I would start to have the same longing for Taiwan. This is the first summer in 6 years I cannot return, and I am feeling it. Now throw in Seattle, San Francisco, even Chicago. It's like tearing yourself apart, everywhere you go. I ask how people can live like this. Having something that you love and hate at the very same time. If it is so hard to choose between them then why bother. Why bother settling when you can have it all. The entire world. It's like a drug in itself. And withdrawal from it is agony. Is it strange to be homesick and not know where to go? Humans were not meant to feel at home here.

It used to be because I thought God was easier to find in some places than others. Such is not the case anymore. At school, I feel like going home. When I am home, I feel like going anywhere but there. I would almost rather prefer the hour of driving in my car that separates them. And it's not just the suburbs. Yes, In the suburbs I feel like I'm dying, slowly. It is more painful than boredom. The same dilemma re-presents itself. The mountain or the sea, the city or the farm, the balcony or the yard, the freeway or the trail, Europe or Asia. I don't know where to go. I just know I have to leave.
I miss you too.