The truth shall set you on the way.

In a way it's great to have a post that no one reads. I mean, I can write whatever I like and no one will ever know. Or will they? I suppose one day, someone, somewhere will stumble across what I have written and published and glean something from what I have taken the time to put down on my pixellated screen. Well, here's to that day.

So now, for what it's worth, I have cleared the political flotsam and jetsam and left a path towards developing an aesthetic.

Many people in Australia poo-poo the very idea of having an aesthetic, or a discussion on the matter in any case. It reminds me a bit of a quote by Bertrand Russell from memory, to the effect that a person with no philosophy is over a hundred years out of date. I think it's fair to say that much Australian art suffers because of this prevalent anti-intellectualism.

A cursory trip around Melbourne's galleries for instance, will reveal a surfeit of  what appears to be superlative works. And in a way they are. Dominated by the instrumental logic of the culture industry's imperative of "bums on seats", we end up with theatre that is dominated by musicals from a bygone era, coupled with visual arts that leans more towards the technical precision of commercial art rather than the free flowing experimentation of what one would expect from the arts.

Experimentation is frowned upon except perhaps during the adolescent years, where the budding artist is slowly funnelled by the imperative of late capitalism into a respectable profession within the cultural industries. These works are impressive, to be sure, especially to the uneducated punter who visits these galleries or who has been educated in the echo chamber of what has come to pass as an arts education sector, which, in reality, is nothing more than a honing of marketable skills.

In Australia, there is nothing worse than an artist who is not financially self sufficient. It is sports people who have taken over the role of beneficiary to society's monetary largesse. Billions are poured into Sports at especially the elite levels, while the arts, except perhaps the very elite International sectors of the industry, founder in a sea of the masses.

This is a ripe foundation for a new aesthetic, a rebirthing of the modernist criteria and self-funded to boot. It is exciting. Rarely has the artist been so free if s/he desires freedom. When you got nothing, you've got nothing to lose.

The only trouble with freedom is the open endedness of it. There is no limit to the creative powers of the artist, and an explosion of possibilities appear on the horizons of the imagination. This is fertile grounds, however, and not to be feared. This is a playground for the most fastidious child within, that can only lead to fun and playfulness, the two fundamental criteria of art in the late (post) modernist capitalist society in which we live.

The world is burning literally and yet it has become illegal to light a fire. Fires are only fought when they endanger private property and are left to burn when it is only a natural forest belonging to nothing more than a aboriginal tribe's memory of occupation. No one gives a shit in this fuck you Jack society. It's every wo/man for his aorta's herself, and the devil may care.

It's a wonderful opportunity for true expression to arise. Human excrement would have to feature somewhere in such an aesthetic, and its absence in the latest rehash of some once forgotten Broadway musical, or the technical mastery of some bored and over nourished clueless painter are testament to the lie of the modern art sector.

There is no art, or next to no art. Art that doesn't contain is abnegation is not art in any modern sense. It is a baroque resurgence that we are livening through, and it doesn't speak but is instead silent about the present. The more beautiful an aesthetic is, only serves to hide the underlying ugliness of the society that produces it.

The time that exist at this very moment contain within them a beauty so deep that the only way to represent them is with an ugliness to balance the blinding illuminescence that we inhabit. Only ugliness and deprivation is perceived by the overfed artist and so they produce art that attempts to counteract this and presents itself as beautiful to the world. No, we need ugliness to counter the inherent sublimity of the world, laughter to balance to ridicularity of our very existence.

Hoards try to migrate from one environmental, economic or political disaster to the next. They leave because the inherent perceived decrepitness of existence has become too much to bear, and head towards the hope that shines on the horizon of rich mainly Western countries. On arrival that are told that they are not refugees but illegal immigrants and are interned. Meanwhile the well meaning discuss internment during other times and visit the state funded opera or sporting even to assuage their collective guilt. No where is this stated, except in these unread pages.

It is not fashionable to talk about such matters. It is imperative to talk about anything except this and the fires that burn uncontrolled across large areas of this country, and indeed the world.

Fire, fire power, you're fired! These are the aesthetics of the modern world. Our problems are caused by the concentrated fire of modernity's electricity. The human race is a victim of its success as a species. Two hundred species a day that are becoming extinct daily through the expansion of juggernaut of modernity. The anthropocene is upon us. It is represented by carbon and each trip to Bali or the South of France is a testament to this fire burning extravaganza.

Capitalism is reeking its havoc upon the whole planet. Just as State capitalism wrought havoc upon the environment of the former USSR, free market capital, driven by the compounding effects of an ever expanding economy, fed by an ever increasing population is heading towards implosion of the planet.

This is the aesthetic of our times. The crying possum mothers of deformed babies, of fish that cannot breath, coral than can no longer shine, but underneath all this the glimmer of perseverance, an illuminescence, a spark of survival amidst a barren universe. Looking out at the stars that are becoming harder and harder to see through the light and atmospheric pollution of modernity, right size the human if only s/he dares to look. To peer through eyes burning from the fires burning all around, and to feast on the plentitude that is the reality of the westerner, even though s/he wants still more.

The beauty is always tainted with the ugly. Why should the artist lie about this. Picasso didn't paint like the old or new masters. He showed the decrepitness of existence in high capitalism. All modernists worth a pinch of salt did. There was no perfection. Only Nazi art sought perfection. To demonstrate against late (post) modern capitalistic destruction of the very environment that humans inhabit, is to demonstrate this conflict between the sublime and the ridiculous, between the beautiful and the ugly. It is at first a recognition of the reality of existence before being a celebration of this survival and an overcoming of the destroyers of both the environment, life and humanity. The truth shall set you free as well as those around you.


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