Archive for July, 2008|Monthly archive page


I just heard a artist interviewed on the radio.  He had spent more than $10,000 in material constructing sculpture somewhere in Michigan.  the value of his art did not include any of his time, much less his ideas. 

I wonder if those great Impressionists ever had a clue that their art work would sell for the megamillions, as a recent Monet was said to have attained.  Was there irony when collectors, not artistis, profited from art?  Was art, literature, music supposed to be about making money?  But when the creator, the producer, the performer, did not receive a fair valuation in their lifetime for the artwork in the first place, was art collecting the ultimate in illusion?


People looking for ritual.  They found ritual with their pets.  With their kids.  In how they spent their time. 

My Sundays had a sense of fullness that was missing the rest of the week.  My Sunday ritual involved worship, and a fullness mostly was in the readings.  This week there was a priest from the Phillipines whose plea for money really touched my heart. 

Sundays.  Family dinner.  It had always been a ritual in my life.  Reading the newspaper, with a fullness in the reading about the world.

Broken rituals.  What was it about this age that people no longer bought the newspaper?  Was the younger generation sick of all the bickering the news had presented in their lifetime.   The news seemed the foundation of the adversity between people.  Was it just about a failure in marketing for these media groups?  How did you market “classical” music, art, classical religion, or history?  Or the news?

Was it apathy or just laziness?  The human condition that had always sought labor saving devices, and if not machines, then people before that.  It was the human condition and the history of all people, forms of slavery.  It was all about laziness. It could not be about the coins

Looking for someone, something worthy.  Pleas that really touched the heart.  Looking for a leader was like looking for a charity, a cause, in a search for something worthy of my support.  So that I might be worthy too.  Worthy to declare, like in the ideals found in the Declaration of Independence, that I was alive and worthy of this liberty.  It was the reason I bought the newspaper.