The big animals: despondent
at table: unsated.
But the small cunning flies
scrambling up slopes of bread
in the railway station: one of the many
lights in the forest; a drop
in the mountain’s beard:
that it doesn’t trickle!
that it is not pierced by the cactus thorn!
do not sneeze, and
Finished my first zine a few weeks ago: All images - no text, other than found signage, and one or two letter fragments in some of the patterns I included. Lots of gestures, but none of them mine. Found on a Saturday morning walk down Clark Street between Rogers Park and Andersonville on my way to meet a friend. My last six posts have all been images too. If I don’t say something soon it’s going to look like I don’t care. An artist or an artwork not supplemented by text is like a dream forgotten upon waking. A life without speech, and speech without a searchable trace is practically nothing at all. But I just haven’t been getting in as many arguments lately. I’ve been teaching a grad seminar. Maybe taking on a leadership role makes me feel a little less desperate…even more willing to abide implicit contradictions without meddling. Not that I don’t speak. Just not quite as willfully. I gather. I collect. I’ve been busy. Not allowing other people’s confusion to confuse me, even though those conflicts are productive in a sense - they produce evidence, which is valuable proof of concept for those with little or no faith, including myself when I need reassurance. Passivity is frighteningly unaccountable to discourse, and practically invisible or at best insulting from the point of view of the ego. Good. My work is becoming like a conversation without conflict or competition. Almost without words. How very midwestern. I’ve become one of those people who’s always working on their thesis. Always working. But I always was, and I always will be. Just a little less secretively now.
46 - Forty-Six
Shêng / Upward Mobility
Beneath the Soil, the Seedling pushes upward toward the light:
To preserve his integrity, the Superior Person contents himself with small gains that eventually lead to great accomplishment.
Have no doubts.
Seek guidance from someone you respect.
A constant move toward greater clarity will bring reward.
You are progressing, rising inch-by-inch toward certain success.
What makes this assured is your refusal to tilt headlong toward your goal, slamming into obstacles and going mad with frustration.
You have a clear map before you of the steps necessary to reach your objective.
With faithful patience and a careful conservation of personal energy and resources, you will run this long, slow distance.
"Modernism is paradox. It is dialectics. It is an art that continually, relentlessly proposes that human qualities, which once were implicit and embedded in the texture of experience – qualities of intensity, depth, directness, vividness – are on the verge of extinction. They have been outlawed, or, worse still, vulgarised and commodified, so that everywhere miniaturised and compressed kitsch images of them whirl by in the ether of information, as background to buying and selling. Modern art is an act of dialectical retrieval, in what it sees as desperate circumstances. The human will only be found again, it says, by pressing on towards the human’s opposite. Depth will be found in flatness, and spontaneity conjured out of cold technique. Absolute openness and vulnerability can only be discovered through a process of rigorous masking and formality."
T J Clark