Nietzsche's Ego

The development of an artist is a precarious event. The mind of an artist is such that he must walk the thin line of sanity, and to produce truly great art, to produce art that is an embodiment of Truth, the artist must confront his own and his society's demons without prejudice or delusion. He must look into Medusa's eyes as to be able to regard them in their detail.

Such a journey is always a perilous one, it takes a certain individual to have the fortitude to withstand the suffering and despair, the burst of joy, the fit of complacency. There are overwhelming odds stacked against the individual who attempts such a journey, who is willing to go deep within the psyche, within the framework, and pull out a rare gem of Beauty that may be put on display.

It is perhaps a blessing that so few bother to take such pains, and that most of those that do dedicate themselves to a life of creation do so within a narrow border. Such walls are necessary, and I am not one to critique such a choice. To be sure, there are many accomplishments that have been created by men with eyes half closed, many pleasing visions, melodic sounds, clever ideas. These have their place in the world, and many of these will naturally be appreciated by the majority. And the artist himself will not suffer an intolerable existance, or at least he need not. He only needs to delve so far into the flames as to taste their biting tongues. In fact, such an artist could very well lead quite a happy life. He could have riches and fame, women and clothes, any wish that he might conceive.

So I am not concerned with this breed of artist. He will find his way, make his contribution, if he is lucky he will taste a moment from the kings glass, and if he is very lucky he will linger in memory after his body is reduced to dust. He will live as he will live.

He who concerns me rather, is the Other, the rare breed of artist that tries to push against the limits of Truth itself, hoping that he might be able to inch it back just a morsel further, so that he might glimpse a piece of its wisdom that has not been seen before. It is this artist whose journey is so perilous, whose sensibility is so fragile. It is this artist that concerns me.

- posted by Sigurd5/02/2004 07:37:00 PM