Making Art To Fuck With You
I had dinner with a friend from college last night. He and I are reacquainting ourselves after not seeing or speaking for some 10 years. This lengthy hiatus is a byproduct of some rather dramatic and bizarre social catastrophes that went down during the end of our college careers.
Details of the scenarios aren't important, the crux of all of them centers around a desire in people to exert control over their own lives by fucking with the other people around and close to them. I bore the brunt of some of this and as my friend said, "got the shit end of the stick".
This morning while reflecting on last night's conversations I started to remember my own impulses and desires at play during that somewhat ill fated time. The role I felt a compulsion to play was that of the "earnest messenger"; I wanted to set things straight and get people to look at the truth of their actions and what was "really" going on - or what I perceived was "really" going on.
As this floated to the surface of my mind, I remembered one of my impulses for making art and music. I wanted to provoke through artistic expression. I get a sick thrill out of the idea of creating art that fucks with people's heads forcing them to face truths that they seemed to easily dance around that I couldn't possibly escape. I don't think I wanted to hurt people for the sake of hurting them; I never felt a purely malicious impulse but I was never afraid of what damage might occur as byproduct.
I always felt somewhat perverse around this desire in myself. Is my desire and expression of it through art any different from people actually fucking with each other and wreaking havoc in each other's lives?
I had dinner with a friend from college last night. He and I are reacquainting ourselves after not seeing or speaking for some 10 years. This lengthy hiatus is a byproduct of some rather dramatic and bizarre social catastrophes that went down during the end of our college careers.
Details of the scenarios aren't important, the crux of all of them centers around a desire in people to exert control over their own lives by fucking with the other people around and close to them. I bore the brunt of some of this and as my friend said, "got the shit end of the stick".
This morning while reflecting on last night's conversations I started to remember my own impulses and desires at play during that somewhat ill fated time. The role I felt a compulsion to play was that of the "earnest messenger"; I wanted to set things straight and get people to look at the truth of their actions and what was "really" going on - or what I perceived was "really" going on.
As this floated to the surface of my mind, I remembered one of my impulses for making art and music. I wanted to provoke through artistic expression. I get a sick thrill out of the idea of creating art that fucks with people's heads forcing them to face truths that they seemed to easily dance around that I couldn't possibly escape. I don't think I wanted to hurt people for the sake of hurting them; I never felt a purely malicious impulse but I was never afraid of what damage might occur as byproduct.
I always felt somewhat perverse around this desire in myself. Is my desire and expression of it through art any different from people actually fucking with each other and wreaking havoc in each other's lives?
posted by Stacia @ 9:48 AM
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