This was 15 years, 16 days ago

I guess what frightens me most about art is its absolute foundationlessness, ungrounded in everything but whatever it chooses to be grounded in. There is no logic that art wishes to contain but whatever logic its constituents determine as divine. It could be argued that this is the case for anything, any discipline or discourse; I just say it's especially harder when the specific arena insists on not having a logic.

What drives and structures it then is the series of underworkings, the operations. What is the ideal that artists strive for? What are the aggregate vectors of demand and desire that structure the buying, the selling, and thus the continuation of art? Does this mean only a materialist examination of art is really proper? 'proper'?

Maybe it's that I have a masochistic need for desire, that I look for a structure. Freewheeling float isn't my thing. Or rather it's not floating that I'm doing -- it's this simultaneous, contradictory, and altogether hollowed-out desire for a grounded and 'legitimate' beauty, faced with the despair of a fashion-of-taste-driven world, but after having discarded all hopes and beliefs in legitimacy and groundedness as ultimately classist, stratifying, divisive.

Everything goes back to the question of equality, similarity; do I have a right to be here and make you not be here? Everything is always political. Everything is always politics.

When aesthetics becomes an attribute and not a contextual relation it becomes a politics that tries to wriggle itself out into pre-politics, language trying to be grammar.

When aesthetics is still a contextual relation it continues to be political.

right now, my hand is over my o-shaped mouth. dark deep high city skies. simple words.