.....strike through the mask.
She still needs a nose job- that will come next. It's good to have a brief window of art-making time before the next tidal wave of pedagological responsibility sweeps across the bow. This winter promises to be like none ever seen, I'll be lucky if I have time to even post the odd blog, let alone get into the studio. But the tea leaves look good for 2009. Cross the horn and venture forth into a brave new wold.
4 comments:
rad... but I'm afraid to strike through the mask, I want to cling onto the hope there really is something objective out there... I'll keep the mask for now... maybe even get a nose job.
All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of fair play herein, jealousy presiding over all creations. But not my master, man, is even that fair play. Who's over me? Truth hath no confines.
Jesus Christo! ...props on the prose Jacques, do you have any other works of writing I might be able to access?
please see Herman Melville
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