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6/18/11 / Post

On celebrity

I admire all celebrities, even the bad ones, for having thick skin. From Anthony Wiener to Lindsay Lohan to the Kardashians, it takes incredible…something*, to live down everything that’s said about you, and with Twitter and Facebook it’s even more pervasive and in-your-face. I’ll admit that I can probably dish it out a lot better than I can take it myself, but at least I know that, and I give all celebrities their due for that, because that’s the one place where they all deserve it.

*courage, ignorance, self-esteem, self-confidence, drugs, money**

**Money buys you lots of things, among them: privacy, publicists, lawyers, but most of all: places to escape to, effective padding between you and the world and all the things it’s saying about you.

Bad artists

I understand why (so-called) bad artists create art, granting one giant assumption: that they are sincere; they are not out to create bad art.

The artist has an imperative to create – I’m tempted to almost call it a biological imperative, because that’s how strong it is. Women feel inside of them something propelling them to create new life, in the same way the painter has to painter, the writer has to write – not for the audience who might consume their art, not even for themselves, but just for the sake of it (the sake of the art?).

This is why I don’t feel bad about ranting. I might not be creating art, but the truth is I don’t really care who reads it, although I’m truly and sincerely grateful to anyone who does. I do it because it feels right do so. It excites me to do it, and that’s the only reason why. In real art, I conjecture, there are no ulterior motives. It’s just the artist and his art, his creation.

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