Whoever looks seriously will find that neither for death, which is difficult, nor for difficult love has any clarification, any solution, any hint of a path been perceived; and for both these tasks, which we carry wrapped up and hand, on without opening, there is no general, agreed-upon rule that can be discovered. But in the same measure in which we begin to test life as individuals, these great Things will come to meet us, the individuals, with greater intimacy. The claims that the difficult work of love makes upon our development are greater than life, and we, as beginners, are not equal to them. But if we nevertheless endure and take this love upon us as burden and apprenticeship, instead of losing ourselves in the whole easy and frivolous game behind which people have hidden from the most solemn solemnity of their being, then a small advance and a lightening will perhaps be perceptible to those who come long after us. That would be much.
doodles cookies drawing beanbags photography upper deck painting site-specific video sculpture think! music lookouts rivets eureka! cfl's plans brownsugar coffeebeans proposals artlab endlessshoots sleepless dreamscapes seethroughs .5 gestural .2 concepts text religare arts.i art residency 2010 Jenson anto Gagandeep singh Anant mishra Bhupendra singh Pramod gaikwad Rajesh patil 2011 Arijoy bhattacharya Megha joshi Sanjay sundaram Mukesh sharma Jenson anto
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Vaak,(Homeage to Christina)
Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them. Always trust yourself and your own feeling, as opposed to argumentation, discussions, or introductions of that sort; if it turns out that you are wrong, then the natural growth of your inner life will eventually guide you to other insights. Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
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