A City gathered every night under a chant and cry for art, to see visions of beauty, and to consider their lives...or so they thought Every night, they cry out for Art, but they reject Art when the request is acknowledged. The Artistically driven soul is then marooned in a flat world of fear, disillutioned in the search for a clandestine enigma within. Confused, the true Artist(ie, Honest with their artistic self-vision) challenges the external critics to find a new language, with a resulting change both Internal and External. This Genesis is the foundation for creation and Innovation; which becomes the lexicon of art, but is lacking with Genre/Esoteric artisans.
Meanwhile, The crowd watches the nightly Art displays in awe as the same image, the same angle, and the same forms are flashed before them in a never ending repetition until they become void of spirit and motivation tricked into a false sense of being. A few begin to stir and leave the show not knowing why they thirst for difference, others feel a passion burn deep within, but ask the Doctors of repetition "Why do I ache?" The Dull charmer prescribes a strict regimine of repetition until the ache and burn have faded. However, there are a few who meet in secret corners and ask questions of the repetious show.
One bold soul exclaims, "Why do I ache for more, when I have been given so much?"
Another follows, "I am uneasy the daily show, and convulse to free myself. I feel somehow posioned, but it can't be explained."
Another face, not seen before, showing skin from a foreign land of mountains, and firey seas explains,
"You are not ill, you are malnourished artists, dining on ignorance, chided into blind acceptance. Your organs rot with complacency causing pain and anguish. You, the uneasiness is an atrophy of muscle and tissue. You lack life, challenge, and vision. Those who seek a cure will follow me, those who wallow in their filth shall return to the Daily dispair."
The question is rejected in conference and the strangers image washes away into the night...but the dialouge is pondered in silence. One man tells the Stable Doctor of the strange shadowy visitor, who retorts,
"Have I not cared for you, have I not fed your soul, to follow him is to follow uncertain doom. if it is change you desire, tonight we will show you change."
And so the word of change spread through the city with great anticipation. The majority saw a difference that night, but a few realized the slides had been reversed in order, so they sought the man of uncertainty, marching from the Bland city gates to the words:
"They offer change, but give us nothing."
"Their actions differ from their words!"
"...not because they wish to starve us, but they do not know how."
"They perpetuate tradition out of habit without regard to thought."
Their words and phrases echoed and changed with distance, drawing louder in the soul, stronger in the heart, all under the united search for uncertainty.
"If you are hungry, follow me to feast."
There is a brief argument that art is in the eye of the beholder...but traditionally Art has been progressive through the individual and collective levels, becoming Chaotic in approach to ideas, mediums, fundamentals, etc. The "Classic Wedge" is a basis for capturing the volume and truth of a 3D object in a 2D Space. Nothing could be more misleading or objectionable. Yes, we are all guilty of pulling a wedgie (where do you think the image above came from), but it is important to recognize WHY.
The Artist is engagement..it is relaying emotion, thought, innovation, and intellect at once with intention and passion. Art is exploration...exploration of limits, tradition, value, knowledge, struggle, self, society, culture, time, dimnsions, and medium. The Artist learns from strugglle, leading to a false sense of failure. Henry Moore, an English Sculptor, once confided a similar idea with a colleage that art should hope to reach perfectiion, becuase then it would be death...and what is left? This is the question fundamental to the insurrection.
The journey and struggle of artistic Railroadiana has been quelched after decades of complascent perceptions coupled with self-doubt. The crowd immitates the repetiton in hopes of finding something new or preserving the past. Only to begin the endless stirring of discontent. I was approached by a stranger from another land challenging me to seek uncertainty. I in kind, turn to you offering the same gift
"Question your being, search your soul for passion, and allow truth to experience the light of reality. This mission isn't selfish, merely a quest based upon true passion, desire, need, and love for art...free of boundaries, ignorance, rejection, and rules. I sacrifice personal success for successive generations. I am not alone, my friends grow each day to continue the mission of revitalization, to save the artistic railroad, even through death. Art is the spirit of eternal man, Railroadiana is the unsung hero of modernity at dusk.
The War on Wedgies symbolizes my genesis into Art. It is my commitment to seek progress that will challenge the very foundation of the artistic aims of the genre and increase awareness of the symbiotic relationship bewteen Life, Art, Science, and religon...all roots of the railroad. This War, this struggle will never end, renewed under auspices within subsequent generations. This is not the horn of Battle, merely the sound to seek discovery.
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"...The medium which is used in creating becomes the work of art if the principles and meaning, the essential nature of the medium are mastered and if the artist is intuitive in spirit. For artistic intuition emanates from the cosmos and embraces the whole world."