More and more I realize that I don't want to create imagery that leaves a residue of oxidized desire. So many things in our culture seem ultimately to be about: "choose me buy me". Will I merely be the tool of the salesman? Will my love be chained to the marketplace? What I dream of is an art that undoes desire and liberates the immaculate presence of the subject. But I wonder; is desire the energy that endurance requires to go deeper into that subject. Is it the necessary energy component that motivates the courage for discovery? It is so energizing. This energy is manipulated by everyone from the queen bee to the advertising agency-and so seems free of any meaning of it's own. It's politically neutral and available. Is it fundamentally and simply sexual?...I want to know desire, and probably how to use it...Like a tea bag in hot water, I want to infuse my essence into it.
I see something beautiful and my spirit is activated...My heart opens my lungs fill up. I feel happy...if I don't become attached to having it and then can't have it. Of course, that is the problem. We are routinely and purposefully excited. Anybody of the slightest seduction can touch you in a place where nobody can see. Every siren effects a crash of the brain into the heart. Constant debris scatters into the psyche. The debris of our culture. The debris of history. Wouldn't it be interesting to extract oneself from those ruined old plots. There must be a new story somewhere, somehow.