I was bad at reading and I still haven’t improved much since my younger days. Reading in public especially scares me. My mother took me to private classes at my language teacher’s home, a charismatic lady with a loving spirit and a healthy sense of humour. I would start reading with a soft and doubtful voice and so she would often ask me… Are you reading for yourself?
Recently a friend asked me if I was speaking for myself as I was mumbling, trying to explain something to him… This reminded me…I do doo that, all the time, even in my art, saying things to softly, just for myself, afraid my ideas will sound stupid, which they probably do. I do mumble and I love other artists who also do it. Not sure about things is what life is all the time for me and I guess for a lot of other people as well. An art work which has something hidden in it is always intriguing and mysterious… not being obvious is a quality in art, a very rare and special thing, hard to spot but it feels magical when you do.
Having a language of your own, this is any artist’s dream… But this language, very few people understand.. Is it transcendent enough to reach even the uninitiated? Will people understand in time? Are you even saying something meaningful? For this you must be true to yourself.
The present time seems to indicate that those who speak up are to be heard, even though the majority of them have nothing to say. Art is loud, screaming instead of whispering… I miss whispering… whatever happened to art as medicine for the soul? Is the soul dead? I hope not.
Ah… but no one will listen to whispers anymore, to do that they must readjust their senses, they must re-sensitize… are you trying to re-sensitize with good quiet art?… it may be a start… chose to understand these mumbling artists and they may cure your soul of turmoil…