The Wilderness Downtown →
ois: smallsafari: i’m not much of an arcade fire fan, but this is kind of wonderful. My poor drought riddled town! It sure needed those trees. Wonderful.
It is one of the paradoxes of American literature that our writers are forever...– Anatole Broyard, “Mulchpile to Megapolis” (via youmademerealise)
Interview with Sean Scully, from the Journal of...
R. Eric Davis: Why do you make art?
Sean Scully: I think that I wanted to do something in my life that wasn't ordinary - which wasn't normal. I couldn't bear to live my life as a normal person, put another way: conventionally. So if I had a choice between living in suburbia and being dead, I would rather be dead. That implies I am going to do something with my life that is not ordinary. Then it is only a question of what that is. I could have gone into a number of different things.
When I was young I was extremely political. We talked about this the other night. I don't think there is such a thing as effective political art. There is only art that is politicized. You either do politics or you do not. I wasn't interested in pretending to be political while I was an artist. There is another aspect to it. I came from an Irish background and started out life as an immigrant. I went to a convent school and I was yanked out because my parents had a big argument with them and I was put into a state school, which was full of emptiness and violence. In other words, I moved from something very exotic and difficult, but rich and full of mystery and the belief in another reality, in a reality that we couldn't see, that we could only imagine, into something that dealt with just what you could see. What you could imagine did not even seem to be a question. I found the banality of it crushing and the shock profoundly disturbing. I think at that point, taking all of those things into account, at some early moment in my life I decided I was going to be an artist.
Davis: It was the most abnormal thing you could do, or the most adventurous?
Scully: It was the most adventurous, in a sense the most dangerous, the most insecure, and, potentially, the most profound thing I could do.
Dear Ryan McGinley, why are all of your friends skinny? until you photograph at least one fat person i refuse to believe you are real, let alone an artist. love and peace, henry