I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes,
For there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper
Flicked through an old sketchbook from three years ago earlier today. Some surprising things in there, a lot of rubbish, but oh my, I’m really intrigued with the contents of my own skull, I always have been. But then maybe everyone is? Of course. I don’t know how best to describe it…but then, ultimately, isn’t all art selfish, is all art auto-biographical? I think I’ve tried to use my art to make sense of my thoughts. Some of my old sketchbooks scare me. Yet if displayed as ‘art’, in that context, is it ok for people to look at them? Are things which we would otherwise keep hidden, things we are scared of, ashamed of, secrets and bad memories, are these suddenly ok to show to the world, if they are displayed as ‘art’? Is it easier to share things if we see it as art?
That is definately something worth pondering upon.