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8 de noviembre de 2007

On jueves, noviembre 08, 2007 by GeNeRaCiOn AsErE in    7 comments

As I hearken back to my earlier, childhood perceptions of life, the world was nothing short of a labyrinth of wonder. As a child, I believed everything was mystery and magic, life held no other possibility than the promise of endless possibility. In addition, my imagination was constantly saturated with the notion of a cosmic force that was larger than myself and consequently beyond my realm of understanding. - -This idea of the great mystery along with every image and sound of the phenomenal world culminated into my emotional faculties; producing deep feelings but most importantly: dreams.

This was no more evident than during holiday season. I deeply believed in the presence of the inexhaustible spirit of a particular holiday, no matter what holiday. For example, when Christmas or Halloween came around, my childhood understanding of the spectacle was similar, in concept, to that of Tim Burton’s film The Nightmare Before Christmas. I was utterly sold on the idea that somewhere in existence the spirit of a particular holiday claimed residency and was unleashed into our everyday reality when due. An innocent belief, of course, yet a very significant one: this mystical notion not only jazzed me up for the forthcoming holiday, but more importantly it delivered an irrepressible urge to wonder. Unfortunately, we all have to grow up, meaning that ideas of this sort gradually become distant memories. Now, in my early adult life, I have a nostalgic feeling towards the holidays, needless to say nostalgia is not quite as powerful as actually believing in the spirit of the thing like I did as a child. I guess in a sense, something is lost.

I’ve always had a theory that artists maintain a very special relationship with their inner child, almost a symbiotic one. An odd dynamic no less, because the appreciation and understanding of the act of making art is very much an adult thing, whereas the act itself is made manifest through the innate curiosity that we harbor as children. Art is most certainly a means of interpretation and reflection, in other words an examination and celebration of life and yet our sense of art is toned down considerably as we are educated away from infancy and into adulthood. Too often, many artists fail to bridge the gap between the conceptual aspect of storytelling and that other, more innocent, aspect of the eight year old explaining to his parents how he felt during his first day in school or when he laid eyes on those beautifully wrapped presents under the Christmas tree. If creativity “were” indeed the spawn of innocence, then I would say that an intimate relationship with the child inside you is bread and butter for any artist. Whether they are aware of it or not, I believe most artists have in some way or another channeled the more innocent side of themselves, with a touch of reason for good measure, and used it consistently for their chosen craft.

GeNeRaCiOn AsErE/danny del mazo (Cali-for-ni-cation)


GeNeRaCiOn AsErE dijo...

danny, it sounds in the acid-mellow tone form 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man'


Yvette dijo...

Es verdad, no se debe perder esa parte de nosotros, pero no solo en los artistas, creo que nadie debe perder esa inocencia que te permite mirar la vida de otra manera, llegar a los detalles, fijarte en determinadas cosas, intentar resolver cada uno de los misterios... porque cuando va pasando el tiempo uno crece y el ruido comienza a ser mayor y a empañar esos detallitos, y llega el famoso estres, nos preocupamos por mil cosas, y todo empieza a ser blanco y negro. Hay no se. A mi no me dicen muchas cosas los días festivos, pero te entiendo, Danny.

Arimarfilia dijo...

Desde muy temprano las normas de la escuela y la casa se encargan de vendernos un mundo que no existe, siempre he pensado que esa idea fija de lo bueno y lo malo, de lo valiente y lo bello no es más que un gran escarnio, la zanahoria moral de una humanidad decadente.
Puede que el arte sea en parte la búsqueda personal de aquel mundo ‘casi perfecto’ que en la adultez lo implacable de los días y la gente intenta robarnos.
Un artista en lugar de oro... anda por la vida buscando su esperanza.

Yvette dijo...

Hay Ari que bonito...

Anónimo dijo...

gracias yve :)

GeNeRaCiOn AsErE dijo...

a cierto punto de la vida los ninos dejan de ser interesantes... ese momento de ruptura es casi como nuestra primera muerte.


GeNeRaCiOn AsErE dijo...

my thanks to all of you for sharing your thoughts. It really means a great deal to me.

- - from the eternal-child, Danny