A question

Can you identify for me a work of visual art that, in an essential way, tells us what it meant to be human in the 20th century? I've often asked myself this question. I've seen much work that talks about being a human or being inhuman or struggling with meaningless or being lost in empty spectacle. But I really don't have an answer and feel I don't know enough to answer.


Message of the Day:

UNMASK ONCE A DAY.

What demonstrates that I am serious about the art I produce? For me, it's not quantity--though my studio storage shows I've made plenty. It's not size and spectacle--though I've made some big pieces and have certainly made a spectacle of myself. It's not precious materials--I recycle, go on the cheap, don't always frame stuff, am a pack rat. It's not fame--I'm far from it and don't really go after it and don't have lines of patrons waiting to leap on the next piece. So what is it?

That's a question an artist must always ask himself, but lately I've asked that to myself more seriously. The answer. The vision gets maintained no matter what. It's not sidelined by time or the lack of it, by materials or the form of them, by life and the demands of it. And just as important, it's a generous vision--not undemanding, not unquestioned--but in love with the world and caring about the viewer.

Welcome to Cosmic Absurdity

Does it make any sense that 2/3 of the world's population lives on less per day than the cost of a cup of coffee (not even good coffee)? Does it make any sense that violence is one of our favorite forms of communication? Does it make any sense that we are living on a spinning ball hurtling through space at the edge of an ordinary galaxy? Does it make any sense the we can all trace our ancestry back to a clever and feisty molecule?

To me, that's all a part (and a very small part) of cosmic absurdity. It makes the whole thing, in one gasp, hilarious and profound. Lots to think about and to make art about. So I do.