"I could feel what he was feeling
Lines like these have got to be
An architect's dream
It's always the same
Whenever he works on a pavement
It starts to rain
And all the time
The light is changing”- An Architect’s Deam- Kate Bush
When I first lay my eyes on something, whether it’s a person, place, or thing I automatically have strong positive or negative feelings about him/her/it. Generally, there are no in betweens. It either is, or it isn’t. Although this take it or leave it attitude has produced some unfortunate lapses in judgment, I still defer to my first initial impression. Intuition, as it were, is far more accurate than not.
In viewing a particular person, piece of art, or even a home, often the spirit of the object in question comes across fairly easily due to the permeability of the unconscious. This, of course, is not a new concept. Artists, writers, actors, psychologists (Freud, Jung) ect.. have been accessing information at this level since the dawn of time. The content of the unconscious, usually seen as vast vessel of seemingly untouchable info, suddenly becomes available. Thankfully, small doses of unreality can be used to our benefit for a little creative release.
The raw contents of our unconscious minds are confusing and strewn with mythological references. So, we have to sift through this pile of seemingly useless ruble to draw out our inner genius. And when I say genius, I mean in a mad-scientist’s laboratory kind of way where we are creating in layers and uncovering new ideas in the fold. What I’m talking about is the process or creativity in action.
Even as a wee lil’ one, I was bombarded with images, alternate realities, and experiences of a different variety. I was a quiet child, silent, yet taking in everything sometimes twice over. I had a hard time communicating what I was seeing or feeling with adults, but, nonetheless, it was there. Even my dreams were, and still are, strange, prolific, and detailed. A lot of writing on this blog is from different dream sequences passed along to you as reality, or some semblance of. Hey, peeps, it’s gotta come from somewhere.
Turns out, all along I’ve been a surrealist. I wish I would’ve understood that as a child/teenager, as it would’ve made those long drawn-out drugged-out trips into the unconscious a lot more comfortable. Plus, I could’ve saved some brain cells in the process. Heh. Well, anyway, what’s done is done.
But, in the interest of promoting art and beauty in a sick and ugly world, I’m declaring it Surrealism Week on Sally’s blog. After all, the sun has ingressed into Taurus now, releasing us from that impetuous fightin’ Aries energy. Let’s all take a deep breath and enjoy the silence along with the art, the beauty, the music, the passion, the lovemaking (with others or self), and in general, warm fuzzy excess. I’ll be posting art, music lyrics, and links about the surrealist movement throughout the week for ya.
Let’s start with surrealist artist Salvador Dali, a fellow Taurean…. god I love this man.
One Second Before Awakening from a Dream Caused by the
Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate, 1944
The Burning Giraffe, 1937
The Dream Places a Hand on a Man's Shoulder, 1936
Swans Reflecting Elephants, 1937
Perspectives, 1937
The Hallucinogenic Toreador, 1970
Monday, April 23, 2007
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3 comments:
I love Dali. I was really lucky in that I had older siblings who were really into art and gave me gorgeous books (Bosch, Dali, Magritte, Picasso) when I was 9 and 10!
Yes, you were lucky indeed! I often wish I had been exposed to more art as a child. There was always plenty of music, which is an art in and of itself too. But paintings, drawings, ect... that would've been fabulous.
I love Dali, too.
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