Saturday evening and I’m at home, it’s cold outside, and dark. The brown nail varnish I put on just after New Year (which came in handy for remembering Ziggy) is chipped to crap and about ready to come off. I’m looking forward to a tattoo touch up in a few days.
Strange start to the year, with so many significant artists dying, and even the gorgeous Dan Haggerty gone now.
Bowie’s loss did leave me with something though, which was the witnessing of his extraordinary example. Creativity, originality, collaboration, expression, and an amazing capacity for work. I find it so easy to be side tracked by the appalling hypocrisy and “injustice” of the world, of politics, and accepted collective morality so many times, but I have to remember where it is I am putting my work.
I dare say I will not kick the habit too quickly, and I will no doubt berate and lecture in my life at times, despite detesting that in myself or others. I don’t know how to entirely negotiate the unavoidability of politics, in a world that shoves it down your throat all the time. Sometimes you just have to have a way of saying “no! hold on! that’s lies!”. You can’t help it, and maybe indeed you shouldn’t need to, at least in moderation and according to your own personally distilled values. But it is nevertheless the case, that you are putting work into something you are reacting to, rather than originating, and that, beyond a circumspect and limited amount, it is a net loss to your own work which you have to do, originally and creatively. I think it’s part of why Bowie was deliberately enigmatic, guarded and clearly disciplined. Aloof even.
Something to be reminded of, as I enter the beginning of 2016. Be thankful of your real, creative work. Choose to live as yourself. Choose where you will put your work.
It has worth.
The Forge of Vulcan by Diego Velázquez [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, digitally altered