September 1, 2009

Artists are remarkably unplugged from the practicalities of life, to the point of total incompetance. We are disabled when it comes to getting the drift and making arrangements. (Best example: Emile Nolde, my favorite German Expressionist, was among the painters whom Hitler called together for the mission of making propaganda art for the Nazis. He listened, then shrugged, thought he'd continue with his beautiful watercolors of poppies blowing on a hillside. So, one night, the SS came calling, dragged him from his bed, and he was never seen again.)

Robert Rauschenberg was the only artist in modern times who'd go to Washington and advocate for the rights of artists, no matter how obvious the cause.

It should be no surprise that, here in Morganton, NC, the artists can't get together and make some well-thought-out, long-needed plans that would benefit us in the world we live in. If we do get along socially--and this is no guarantee--we can't organize what the English call "a piss-up in a brewery." Any occurance to the contrary is unusual to the point of freakish.

Whatever happend here will likely not be the result of my tender ministrations.

PW