Art imitates life, Life imitates art. After I saw this rotation occur a few thousand-million times from the eyes of a gaggle of lifetimes on miriad planets in different galaxies inhabiting sundry bodies equiped with all kinds of bizarre mouths, appendages and genitalia, while taking pleasure from things I have no definitions for... I've realized that the imitation part can be reflected upon, fermented and evolved into something more authentic. Life can become an art form in itself. I am my own greatest work. Only the carcass-strewn road behind and the untouched canvas ahead.
I'm writing this from a restaurant and hotel called Ngoc Hoa owned by a Mr. Tuan. I'm sitting in a blue plastic lawn chair beside a laminate table with blue/red plaid cloth. A tourist joint, it is my Starbucks of the northern Vietnamese, Cat Ba island beach. There is a flat screen TV over where Tuan, his staff and presumably his daughter or young lover are have lunch. The TV is airing some fashion catwalk bathing suit models to a repetitive loop of the jazzy "Hey Mambo" song from I think... 50's.
Tuan is a native of the island and speaks very functional if narrow english. Tuan also seems to have some perspective which many I've met in my travels seem to be missing. I wouldn't describe him as an artist, but he has a quality of authenticity that he delivers consistently. His daughter sings what I would consider crappy pop song (singular) over and over again in the restaurant. I find this distracting, but it does not agrivate me nor prompt me to leave. She sings a song I don't appreciate, but she sings it very well and the repetition, which I find maddening, bespeaks passion of an artist. I've met artists whose lives seem devoid of art. I've met people who don't paint but who live their lives with vision.
If I were feeling dialectic I might say that the one who lives the vision has some artifact of achievement in hand which the struggling artist, whose life is a seeming series of misdirections, is indeed searching for through his painting process which is really an aspect of his soul which has been severed from the rest of his life. I might say that, but it's just a convolution to swim through and consider. I don't believe it. Both are experiences I feel I've had at different times and both are highly instructive.
Instructive of what? What do we want as individuals? To me the gold is taking the visionary process of painting or designing a thing out of the isolate box of creating just that one thing and seeing how everything in our experience is a seamless canvas upon which we can create. Keep expanding the vision and include ourselves within it. As our painting blends with those around us we give birth to a thrilling collaborative vision. Poof Eden!
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