in my understanding, human life is only ever really about art. art in its wider interpretations. what distinguishes humans, really, is our capacity to create and be inspired by art.
discrete infinity.
everything else that surrounds us is only ever really about supporting that capacity. we need to survive, we want to be comfortable. but really, it's all about the dancing at the end of the day. the civilisations, the institutions, such as they are, fall secondary.
how easy it is to lose sight of this in the day-to-day.
i write this and i think that it's the kind of understanding that is not so much objectively true, as it is revealing about the person who expresses it. clearly, the pursuit of art is not an explanation for all human activity. there are other appetites and passions. war, for instance. maybe you could consider science separately (perhaps not). you could suggest baser human qualities as joint cause. love inspires art, love inspires war, love inspires a regular life in your community.
for me, it is art.
this understanding of life returns to me in this trying time. a time when i feel the pretexts of a social contract have been withdrawn from me. i cannot so easily move through the world, anymore. rights taken, identity denied, more to come. and i question how i am to care for my job, the institutional expectations of life, the expected path, in this world where basic dignity is removed from me.
how do i respond? i have, somehow, to work through this, to find a way to live with it, to continue to find meaning for myself and others around me. the anger can't sustain me forever. there is solidarity, of course, mutual aid, protest. but how do i find meaning for myself?
i think the answer may lie in a purer devotion to art.
an opting out of the obligations expected of me by a society that rejects me.
a recalibration towards art - what i should have perhaps been more focused on all along.
the new per cent