Art: a work of Art.

I like to paint. Today I have spent much of the time in an intense sense of bliss at the thought of not having to go to my job during the week and actually having moment to be free. It was essential to mention the job because I just got paid today and could, therefore, spend a little bit of money.

Back to painting. Sometimes I do watercolors of the same subject more or less. I see them as emotional reflections of a mind at thought, at thinking, at listening, at wondering, at stating, etc. Really, they are just sketches for much bigger paintings that might never get done.

I looked at some ads for new places to live, but I'm sorry, I want to be able to have fun and not have to feel that I have to be away from the place a certain amount of time to make every one happy. And these people never take cats. Although I no longer have a cat, there are to two cats here in the house, Pablo and Buddy. They have varous other names like Pineapple, the Pubbers, Chunky Monkey and the Budders.

But I digress again. This was supposed to be about Art. I watched the film ART SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAl tonight. Why did John Malkovich have to be in it? Wasn't the story line completely tired (the boy who wants to be an artist so he can have beautiful women...)? Sexy this film was not. Enlightening this film was not. Pubesxent this film was. It was supposed to be a play on some other film (Terry Zigoff can't be this bad of a director??). I really liked Steve Buscemi and the casting of non-Hollywood actors.

I haven't said anything about Art and neither did this film. I haven't said anything about love and neither did this film.

American Hardcore

I tried watch THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP but got lost on the premise:"Love is an extrapolation of a dream" or some poopoo like that. This film is really sick. Now, I haven't seen it to the end, so I might have to correct myself. But I found myself wondering what "love" the film is referring to. The main character loves no one, really. Oh yes, his name was Stephane. And oh yes, he's Mexican in France. The woman he has a romantic relationship with is named Stephanie. Is she an extension of him and he and extension of him?

Back to Derrida, what's in a name? What is "love"? As we know, the Greeks (and, sorry, I'm not shedding light on this for anyone with a reference to what love means in an idigenous culture) had a couple of words for love: agape, love for all and eros, "romantic," i.e., love involving sex. Is Western culture still stuck on this? But, of course, because sex sells. It's all about the money. Once again.

I don't feel like elaborating on this much further. And the whole concept of self-love, as taught in many cultures and espoused by many therapists for those who find themselves in doubt, is another issue. But, I wonder, is it?