Art: The Sacred Sexual Creative Instinct!

ART, the sexually imbued creative instinct, instilled liberally in man, is that inescapable incomprehensibly undomesticated part of our nature which allows no imitation but reminds us constantly that, "unless we find and express our natural and convenient original sacred artistic heritage, we will never be satisfied". With an incessant mocking inner voice, taunting and accusing, we try every available outer distraction and apparent entertainment to gratify but to no avail. Nothing will but sheer artistic authenticity will satisfy. We know instinctively we will not be released from the constant nagging dull headaches, restless sleepless nights and consuming crankiness until our soul's mistress is wooed, acknowledged and articulated. Her vacillating ways are unmistakably capricious, ruthless, and completely unforgivable. Her ever pervading impetuous spastic force of unconquerable ingenious surges demands the last breath of our undivided attention and every ounce of our solicitous blood's respect without recompense. She invades without warning or invitation. She wields her unyielding hypnotically embellished artistic power, injecting into our minds irresistible passion in our veins as our hands beg for expression. Willing bones in our fingers plead/weep for discharge to carry out the work as she so disinterestedly demands. Nobody's concubine: Her first name is Passion; Her last Execution. Art weaves the omnipotent emotional indulgent fiber into the deflated human being operating as the unduly masked ill-defined impetus that drives him/her mad. Elusive innate disproportionately placed motivation lulls, lures, caresses, invites, snares, beguiles, woos, pampers, intrigues, seduces and then impartially destroys what is left of the fragile pride ridden self-image. Hopelessly obsessed by her intoxicating pleasure filled fragrance, driven into realms of unimaginable ecstasy, shattered into filaments of inexpressible delight while never being able to embrace, much less tame, the torridly wild fire she ignites. We, as artists, are impoverished and embellished by her effervescent prodigality. Incapable of retaining her, we teeter on the brink of insanity hoping for a mere glance of recognition. ART selects as it will, establishes, provokes, and maintains an intoxicatingly feverish impudent game of tease, all the while (day/night) running rampant though the unfathomable recesses of our minds according to her whims and fancies. She is incapable of being coerced, subdued or spoiled. Completely unmanageable, she's subversively fickle and will not tolerate being domesticated. What she, at times, coyly allows us to imagine through her, we form into pervasive existence. Nothing lies outside the boundaries of ART. She reigns supreme. Not one invisible speck of dust is without having been penetrated {inhaled and exhaled} by artistic creation. From the ordinary to the sublime, we are all submerged in the multifaceted sensual arms of ART. Sensually caressed and mesmerizingly enveloped by her loving embrace, we sense the erotic beating of "ecstasy's exclaim', eager, willing, subdued; we silently smile submitting to soul's surrender, knowing fully she will do with us as she wills, anyway she wills.


Let us make known and celebrate the undeniable fact: all human beings are indeed, artists. No matter if you immediately agree with me or not, {as to whether you fall in this revered category} at this point, I ask to you to keep your mind open as we travel together down the path of artistic unveiling. I reiterate: You are first and foremost an artist whether you recognize this fact or not. Every move and gesture you attempt is artistic in nature. Just think about the amount of variegated variance in the personal tastes you possess. You are motivated to style your hair a certain way. You arrange your clothes in a definitely distinctive preferred selected style. You drive a specific car for reasons catered and designed to your personal taste, needs and finances. The intimate relationship you deem acceptable, places you live, the people you associate with, the job you have, the music, food and furnishings you possess were also decided upon by you according to your own individualistic artistic inclinations. You like certain colors, fabrics, styles, and designs. Others you turn away from because they are not to your liking'. Even something as simple as the coffee cup you drink out of, the toothbrush you own, the hair brush you use, represent the evidence that you are an artist. You create and preserve a certain artistic expression in all of your surroundings. You are engulfed with an array of distinct colorful ways that say as much about you as is possible barring the time, effort and money you put into it. The way you talk, write, walk, glint in your eyes, fluidness in the parting of your lips, the way you make gestures with your hands and body, the menu, the movies and instruments you enjoy represent yet again your creative nature. Whether you like animals, the outdoors, the gym, dancing, singing, drawing, building, politics, the medical field, or Criminal Justice etc.; you are constantly painting the diverse picture of your unique life.

At the same time you are building your artistic paradise, you are inundated with preconceived ideas and notions of what you suppose to be "good and bad" art. Up until this time, you may have quickly judged and condemned respectable artistic renderings in ignorance or you may, just as easily praised and worshiped certain art, believing you could never master such skillful techniques, application and demonstration. Possibly, you did not recognize or appreciate the supreme splendor of divine edification offered in the ordinary empty carton of milk, the top ripped entirely too wide, covered with pellets of borrowed squeezed ketchup tossed capsized in the bottom of a battered army green thirty gallon rubber trash can. Or the upturned rusted badly faded wheel-less red tricycle, buried nose deep on its left side puncturing the metal rod in the debris strewn yard, handlebars enwrapped under a fragmented blue plastic child's grass mildewed swimming pool. These are just a few of the basic ephemeral artistic renderings filling your creatively induced world. Discover it for yourself. Draw, paint, chisel or mold your way through the maze of your own making.

The world is occupied with hustling, bustling, rustling neglected anonymous representations of endearing artful masterpieces comprised by unknown artists. These artists depict their worlds, lives and universes through unparalleled installations, they humbly develop and produce. Some of these artists are not conscious of the merit of their work, because they are too embarrassed or insecure to display it. They have been inadvertently conditioned to believe that only certain kinds of Art make it or are worthy to be critiqued and commented upon. But true ART is never buried. It shouts its unsurpassed unappreciated or acknowledged glory in the sun for all to witness. It does it bow or cower to the vainglorious opinions of ostentatious men. It reeks of desolate attempts to say what can not be uttered any other way. ART demands our unfledged reaction and naked response. The artist willfully exploits himself so that he may convey something of value to him. Genuine ART will not be duplicated. Nor will the artist be mocked, influenced or swayed by popular opinion. Preferences and distinctions create separation. Separation births placidity in the soul. The human being may deem himself and his life worthless and meaningless because he does not recognize the brilliant effervescent artistic talent that permeates him. Everything is ART. Creation itself is ART. Not a jot or tittle is refused. Man's innermost desire is to create and express his creation. {The definition of connection and meaningful communication.} This connection is made by and through unimpeded artistic attempts. We have overlooked the abundance of ART that constitutes our lives. More importantly, we have disavowed the artists who produce the simple things; we so easily take for granted. I have heard it stated: He/she simply doesn't have an eye for accurate art'. But, pray tell me, does not one man's eye work in the same manner as another. Can he not see the sheer beauty in what is produced as compost? Elimination is the key, the key to unblocking all debilitating ideas on what composes worthy and unworthy art.

Take a second to look at the ordinary (which in fact is the extraordinary) things that interpolate our world on a daily basis. By becoming more aware of the various schemes, colors, and patterns, we choose, and reject, you may come to realize just how very artistic you really are. You may even stumble vicariously into that part of yourself which lies repressed, waiting for excavation; liberated expression. Construct your personal way/method of excavation into the deepest parts of your concealed soul so that you may reveal to yourself definite hidden artistic truths. {Embarrassment usually bars the door.} Just like a seed planted in the ground: what has been concealed must by universal law be revealed.