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Tips for Artists Who Want to Sell, 1966-68
John Baldessari (American, b. 1931)
If you can make pretty pictures then bless you. Bless you bless you. You will survive and you will be fairly happy. What a gift to the world and to yourself! Moments come and go when I would give all of the wealth I do not have to be able to make something that is simply beautiful, something that people want to hang in their homes and show their house guests. They could all stand around it, sipping their coffees and teas, remarking at the beautiful colors and how it makes them feel good. All the wealth I do not have.
In the beginning of all things, the God of the universe imparted on us to fill the earth (1:28). With people? Yes, but more. Fill the earth with beauty, with goodness. Fill the earth with truth. Fill the earth with lovely words and endearing glances. Fill your homes with friends and your stomachs with the finest foods. Fill the earth with music. (And I believe that Tom Waits, I know I know, fulfilled this command like no other.
All your cryin don’t do no good
Come on up to the house
Come down off the cross
We can use the wood
Come on up to the house)
As a photographer (Jarrod told me that I’m not a photographer, but closer a prophet who is using photography as a medium, at least for the moment ((in a moment of irony I’m using words to express myself — Jarrod +1)), I want to see who you are. I want to see how you reveal yourself to the world and how you reveal God. I want to come into your home and take photographs of how you’ve filled your space. I want to take pictures of the car you drive and the clothes with which you cover your body. I want to take pictures of your goodness and your darkness, specifically when they are one in the same, inseparable. “Where there is sin, there is goodness, and where there is goodness, sin.”
There are a few possibilities. I may not be capturing these things well, and therefore no one will want it. I may be capturing them too well, and therefore no one will want it. My photographs may be boring, and my fear comes through in the boredom. Maybe I need to take more pictures of snow. People love snow.
Ultimately, does it matter? Yes and no. Is it futile? Yes and no. Am I willing to bear that loneliness? Damn the death of dualism.
Context: I spent 8 hours yesterday with my friends listening to a specific type of an illicit pharmaceutical.
