We're back. I decided life in the studio would be incomplete without the textual counterpart.
I was going to remain in hiding until the fall, but since essentially I have been in hiding for almost 3 years, it seemed moot. For whatever reason, I enjoyed the anonymity of writing from my garage studio in Culver City. Now I am just enjoying anonymity. Kidding.
Thanks to Philip Buntin for posting this:
On May 23, 1947 Wallace Stevens wrote to Rodríguez Feo:
I did not see Time magazine, but from what you say gather that someone has taken a crack at [T.S.] Eliot. Someone takes a crack at everybody sooner or later: not only at everybody but at everything. In the long run, as Poe said in one of his essays which nobody reads, the generous man comes to be regarded as the stingy man; the beautiful woman comes to be regarded as an old witch; the scholar becomes the ignoramus. The hell with all this. For my own part I like to live in a classic atmosphere, full of my own gods and be true to them until I have some better authority than a merely contrary opinion for not being true to them. We have all to learn to hold fast. Yours very truly,
Wallace Stevens*
I was going to remain in hiding until the fall, but since essentially I have been in hiding for almost 3 years, it seemed moot. For whatever reason, I enjoyed the anonymity of writing from my garage studio in Culver City. Now I am just enjoying anonymity. Kidding.
And so I write this in support of artists working on their own thing and sticking to their vision in spite of it not being part of last year's zeitgeist. I write this in support of those artists who don't try to fit it, and either do, or do not through no fault of their own. I mean eventually, you are bound to be one or the other at any given time. And I write this for artists like myself, who sometimes question everything- not out of a lack of confidence or faith, but precisely because of that faith.
Thanks to Philip Buntin for posting this:
On May 23, 1947 Wallace Stevens wrote to Rodríguez Feo:
I did not see Time magazine, but from what you say gather that someone has taken a crack at [T.S.] Eliot. Someone takes a crack at everybody sooner or later: not only at everybody but at everything. In the long run, as Poe said in one of his essays which nobody reads, the generous man comes to be regarded as the stingy man; the beautiful woman comes to be regarded as an old witch; the scholar becomes the ignoramus. The hell with all this. For my own part I like to live in a classic atmosphere, full of my own gods and be true to them until I have some better authority than a merely contrary opinion for not being true to them. We have all to learn to hold fast. Yours very truly,
Wallace Stevens*
2 comments:
Alrighty then, I'm fist-pumping my way forward into the more public realm. Next week is organize for launch week.
Was feeling particularly misclassified of late and then to boot, almost bought into it. Stopped short of a manifesto.
Bon voyage.
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