Wednesday

How to...con't

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I am not part of an urban culture. Not to say I am not urbane in many of my tastes. There is a scholarly run around the studio around the house, and often, but I am not academic.  My muse seems to require ritual, constantly shifting but constant all the same. This doesn't make me a part of any particular religious group.

Strangely enough those are the major differences I see between myself and more successful artists (poets/painters).  And by success I don't mean just the money.  The publications or exhibitions are part of it.  The potential for a serious exchange, if these things are also a numbers game.  Otherwise, no.  He works.  I work.  His has been and is a life's work as has been mine.  My time is given over exclusively to painting and to a lesser degree poetry in a way that exceeds his only in that I have no other tasks at hand.  We both belong fullmeasure to art. To painting to poetry.

But I've never thought myself capable of doing any thing other than how I make art.  I can't image a schedule requiring me to leave without regard to the part of the studio process requiring truly undivided attention.  I suppose if conditions were right I could come closer to considering a schedule.  As it is, no.

I understand the differences  in belonging through the reading of this book no more or less than I have understood for some time... at the end of day of little consequence to my pleasure in a Literature Of Poetics History saved by a lover's point of view.  How to Read a Poem.


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