Photo by James Shedd
I'm over it.
Part of me wants to go back and rephrase that to make it more palatable, but nah. It's sharp and sure, I'm over it.
Over the ways that I have been making art, and a lot of the ways I see art being churned out as perfunctory content on social media.
Don't get me wrong—I'm proud of the work I have done, and amazed by the folks with whom I have had the honor of working.
It just feels stale + stagnant and I'm ready to move on from it.
Ready for new ways,
and I feel them, surely growing in the darkness,
and all I feel that I can genuinely do right now is sit back in a state of reception
and wait to see what bursts forth.
But I can feel the energy roiling in the underground,
a force of nature moving up, up, up...
I have some sense of the terrain I am moving into,
see it like a fuzzy picture coming into focus before me.
Wide. Open. And mine to birth into the world.
Instagram especially sometimes feels like a hall of mirrors,
where inspiration begets mimicry begets mundanity.
Everything starts to look the same.
It feels like fast-fashion; mechanical and disposable.
Visually, yeah, it looks like art.
But it doesn't feel like art.
It doesn't have fucking SOUL, or DEPTH.
And that doesn't cut it for me anymore.
I want more.
Jack
2020-05-17 22:29:05 +0000 UTCKyle Davis
2020-05-13 18:20:23 +0000 UTC