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Monday, 20 December 2010

The Melancholia of Creation

The Creator is a Loser.
All Creativity Honours Loss.
By creating something out of nothing, the artist cheats life.
Life takes her revenge on the artist, but not on art.

 Mourning monomaniacally obsesses over the Lost One endlessly, from every possible shifting Perspective.
Just as the Blues forever reworks twelve bars, the pentatonic and three chords. But each Coda is a differing Perspective.
This is not the same as a repetition which aims at identicality.
By constantly shifting, the Mourner attempts to disentangle himself from the Lost One.

John Dowland;
his lyrics unite the Old Saxon with the Blues:
'Unquiet thoughts, your civil slaughter stint,
And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart;
And you my tongue that makes my mouth a mint .."

The Blues
The Blues goes back to the English Romantics - Keats was a bluesman.
It goes back to the Elizabethans, to the Metaphysical poets - and to Burton's treatise, 'The Anatomy of Melancholy'.
It goes further back to the Anglo-Saxons: Deor is a Blues lyric;-
Thaes ofereode, thisses swa maeg!

Is any suicide really 'accidental'?
Is anything 'accidental'?
Camus - the writer who found life, as well as death, to be absurd - died in a car 'accident'.
And his 'The Myth of Sisyphus' looks at suicide as the only true philosophical problem: If life is unbearbly absurd, then why don't we commit s...
Perhaps life's absurdity is what makes it worth living? - this seems to be his conclusion.
And then there are those who have died long before their physical deaths ... and those who live on longer after their physical deaths.

Anguish drives you forward,
makes you live more intensely,
makes your senses keener,
and moves you closer to

Blindness stimulates the imagination.

Formality is a form of silence - eloquent silence.

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