I always come full circle and return to this blog to say the things I can never say out loud.

I love music. I love art. I love beauty and the search for truth. I want to know myself. I want to learn how to truly love.

For me art is the path to self awareness. To understanding life or a higher being or whatever you want to call it.

So believing all this leaves me sad and confused. Are beauty and truth subjective as everyone in these post-post-post-post-post modern times alleges? My instinct and my fiercely idealistic youth has always been firmly rooted in the idea that truth and beauty were almost a being that exists outside of ourselves, but we can have this beauty within ourselves if we work for it. If we tear away the layers of selfishness and self importance we put upon ourselves.

But I guess no one wants that anymore. We all see ourselves as magnets, pulling others into our orbits. We see ourselves as movie stars walking around 'in character' until we are finally subsumed by pop culture and BECOME the character.

This brings me back to my first post here. Should art form us or do we form art? Has 'art' simply become imitation? Affectation? Attitude? We resent those artists whose art is the act of plunging deeper within ourselves, deeper into human nature. Those artists who passionately search humankind for beauty. Whose art is again, peeling away the lies. Sifting through the ugly to find the pearl within. Now art IS the ugly. But why? Nothing means anything. Nothing is sacred.

I am not in a video or a movie. I want to be real. I want real expression, uncultivated or not. Just REAL.