It has been ages since I have posted any of my personal musings and rants on a regular basis. However, I feel that the time is upon me to commence with my old ways and start ranting and raving as I had done so many years ago. I will henceforth post updates of works in progress, poetry, prose, short stories, topical essays, rants, raves, philosophical discourses, waxes, wanes, yarns, improper grammatical sentences and whatever else comes to mind. To begin I will simply relate a short personal contradiction which I struggle with on daily basis:
The Sculpture I make is the embodiment of contradiction. My art career is one raging hypocrisy . I know its true; it kills me. I make work of a painful bent. Disfigured figures, demonic creatures with abysmal gaping maws, the highly enraged, the highly distraught and most of all the madness of humanity (a recurring thesis of my work). But what I represent is not the intangible high art of Delacroix or Monet. It is not something which a rich collector will presumptuously scratch his chin over, check his sterling silver pocket watch then errantly quip that he'll take two of each for his new mansion. Doesn't happen. It just aint me. I make work for the huddled masses, for the urban grit and pain of life. Art for me is expression and relief and a sounding board to scream out against what is inherently wrong with the world. But heres the catch. Because this shit takes me so long and saps the life out of me in the process and rest is scarce because of how focused I must be to achieve my goals; I have to place the work at a price thats out of reach of those who I really want to own my work. Those who truly understand it are those who have been in the struggle, those who struggle and strive just as hard as I do and live to complain and bitch about it. The only people who can really afford what I make are usually people who cannot comprehend why I make it. But I cannot stop making it. And I cannot regress in my process and skill, No. Rather, I must strive to constantly move forward and better myself because my career has only just begun. Yet I further expand the gap of making artwork for those who can truly relate to it.... Oh how I am torn.
-Zachary Max
2 comments:
huddled masses? like piles of shit?
HAHAHAHAHAHA
wait. don't discount me as a friend. I really liked what you wrote and I couldnt have written it better, mostly because i don't write like that. You will find a way to reach "the huddled masses" in the way you want too. You will figure it out, you clever mother fucker and your piles of ass excriment. i really wish i had the mental stamina to give you a real crit or even reply with something substantial. I figure it's all a matter of mindset. I cannot think clearly here though, there's like a tension in my back that I get when i feel that I cannot relax and be myself.Of course, when I cant be myself the first thing to flee from my being are my wonderful clear thoughts.
I really enjoy your writing and hope you dont mind that I care to read it. really wish i had something more substantive to say.
thank you Becca, aside from all of the stuff about piles of shit that was really nice.
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