Mr. Ike will set you straightHow fortunate am I? How fortunate are we? How fortunate can things get? Yes, we are allowed to have these moments. Moments akin to one's very own death bed revelations. Moments where we can step back and see the entirety coming together when we've been working on just our little piece of the mural. It's epiphanistic!
What am I so giddy about today? After a very long and very careful cultivation and a deliberate construction period, what remains seems to be a firewall of people who almost totally get it. Writers, actors, musicians, poets, and creators. Most significantly, we have surrounded ourselves with what can only be described as "a new intellectual" class. A new and super-powerful elite without shame, guilt, or parameter. Better, faster, stronger like Steve Austin on PEDs. We are thinkers first.
I could name names, but we know who we are and I do not want to leave anyone out. This is a federation, a fraternal order, a veritable kingdom of leisure. The new tr00f mob. Troops dug-in for the World Wide Art War 2010. It's like a Wu World Order, right?
Lately, it seems, every morning I check the emailings and there is more and more raw material to work with; audio, video, words, thoughts, and ideas. It's like we're doing this heroic work in shifts like old-school General Motors; cranking out Camaros 24-7. It's like we are running out of time on earth but we understand that the archaeologists will need something to keep them busy and amused. Digital breadcrumbs of the new tag crue.
A happy accident? Serendipity? Cosmic alignment? Yeah, all that and a lot of very hard work too. There is a trail of trial and error. There are bodies and ideas littered throughout the lonely country roads of art. We leave behind a decades-old trail of fits and starts and failures. But the scales have tipped. I feel it. I know it. I declare it so.
You can't stop us. We're the terminator of art collectives. I, for one, am grateful.
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