Word of the Week #99:

Lambent

So, if you were to take a quick look at the events that transpired throughout the past week, you might end up feeling quite dejected, or you might just stop feeling altogether.

Yeah, it has been that kind of a week, where we feel let down by the world around us.

I talk about the real world, of course. My world is still pretty cool, and that is what keeps me inoculated from everything real. And this is a part of art that we do not seem to discuss nearly as much as we ought to.

You see, in today’s world, art is too often evaluated by the impact it is supposed to have on the world around it.

Black Panther released last weekend, and its portrayal of minorities and women is the discussion that seems to dominate the media.

Last weekend was also the NBA All Star weekend, and an initial part of the proceedings was usurped by reactions to some Fox News anchor’s racially insensitive, extremely demeaning, and frankly quite stupid comments about the greatest basketball player of our generation.

It is gladdening, of course, to see artists and athletes using their platforms to try to change the world for the better. Their excellence grants them this prerogative.

However, that is not where we begin, right?

Art is not always a beacon that guides the entire world.
Sometimes, it is just a flickering candle that illuminates a single soul…
And sometimes, that is enough.

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Word of the Week #62:

Canter

Okay, so this post is in response to the post I made last week

It feels really odd when I say something that seems to contradict what I said exactly one week ago, but I guess it does need to be said.

You see, anyone who knows me well enough will agree that there are times when I immerse myself so deep into my work that I just cannot stop drowning. Of course, that is still prime fodder for artistic creativity, but the artist himself must pay a hefty price. Lives of artists like Sylvia Plath and, in more recent history, Amy Winehouse should serve as a reminder.

As often debated by a particularly incandescent, albeit fictional, pair of contemporary artists, is true art a flash of beauty burning bright and then vanishing in a moment, or is it something eternal that contains our soul and is passed down to our descendants? That is the question always on our minds.

Do I dare say I have the answer? Not in the slightest.

All I do know is that a horse can only gallop so much, before its legs and its heart gives way. And I still have miles to go.

So, in conclusion, we do have an update. Book Two might take longer than I earlier expected, but that may be for the best.