french film blurred
  the long overdue
currently i am surrounded by black in the bedroom of my apartment, haunted by insomnia and lured by sirens. recent discussions have stirred my mind in the direction of beauty. my course on japanese painting has informed me of philosophies in this area that are of the most interesting.

there is time. there is space, and then there is the beauty, demarcations between the moments. it has been my contention for the longest time that great art has contained within it a sense of beauty that outlasts our mortal coil, embedded in david's marble... mixed with ingre's paintbrush... captured by the camera that captured tierney.

it has occurred to me that in all this time, this current of inescapable lushness betrays a dark secret.

this world, in a moment, undone

the art is merely a conduit for said aesthetic indulgence, not the beauty itself but instead a carefully composed simulacra. thus, in my reevaluation of things, i posit that great art is born from the moments of intense human experience that occur when medium, form, and thought comingle in some fantastic metaphysical event horizon. however, those out there with visions of paradise should take heed... the aesthetic does not take the form of some facile deus ex machina.

art and beauty are meant to reward the faithful, but it is our psyche alone that remakes the world...
"this universe is manifest, entombed within chronology."

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Location: east brunswick, new jersey, United States
200606 / 200610 / 200612 / 200801 /

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