textile design, 1988, silk

The art world is made up of a lot of what you see pictured here.

It is a huge dose of a way of being most of us can relate to because we have it too.

I want you to see me in a certain way so I present that face to you all the while I have my authentic self hidden beneath a good make-up job or pretty smile or so many letters after my name.

You can push the posturing thing in the aesthetic realm or just as effectively by playing victim to anything at all.

A finely tuned ‘woe-is-me’ story has the same effect oftentimes.

I am not minimalizing peoples’ pain and suffering as I certainly have my own share.

What I am trying to get to is the idea that art posturing and illness posturing are seductive because they each do a great job of LOOKING LIKE they draw people closer in but really they are like a cheap, synthetic cologne you might buy on a grimy street in New York.

They both act as a cover.

In the art world, the objective is to be seen as way cool and immune to the horror of the utter precariousness of the fact you are only as fabulous as your last body of work and you are beyond caring what anyone thinks of you.

In reality, the act of creation is an invitation to BE SEEN and taken seriously on some level for most.

It says more about ‘I CARE DEEPLY’ than ‘Who cares?’

In the illness realm, rattling off symptoms and medication and doctor’s names and more symptoms often has the effect of the drone of a beehive; our audience numbs out while trying to support us with a gracious modicum of compassion.

But really.. what likely is underneath the drone is a frightened, exhausted and vulnerable human being not knowing how to find a way to tell their truth.

The attention we all get from the drama of the speaking of human frailty is supposed to take the place of the true connection we might actually get if we said how scared we are.

I am tired of tolerating my own and others’ posturing.

This is a very good sign, I think.


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