ossiers ficier KITSCHMAS PARTY at the Helen Pitt Gallery on Saturday December 16th at 8:00 Another crazy student party in usual bad taste. There will also be a talent show. Can anyone sing, dance, or otherwise entertain? An opportunity to get together before the holiday. less or to make speeches. They are really lunatics interest- ed only in Love, Death and Folly. At least I have been called crazy all my life. Marshall McLuhan, in speaking of the condition of weightlessness which biologists promise us may provide physical immortality (when apparently we shall float around the universe like angels), has suggested that the weightlessness should be paralleled by speechlessness. If we were all speechless, what peace and harmony would descend upon mankind. Instead, we have countless solemn idiots sounding off day and night about the Problems of everything. They forget, if they ever knew, that “the reason angels can fly is ‘that they take themselves lightly.” Of course we have problems because we are always dissatisfied with our world. But no problem is ever solved, it is only outgrown. The talk of problems that we hear all the time has nothing to do with the artist. His problem is to solve his own problem. That is, to do his own work. For him a life time is too short even to ask the right questions. Critics are as bad as politicians and sociologists. They are always making a problem of art. Critics are frustrated taxidermists. They are all filing clerks. What there is no labelled file for, they throw into the waste basket. Critics, like cops and society people, are actively engaged in pre- venting the advance of the arts. There was a Pueblo Indian Chief who said that all white men were obviously crazy because they think with their heads. As for himself, he said, of course he thought with his heart. We must always watch out for the too solemn ones. They would kill off the great delight — the childlike wonder of creation. They say, ‘“‘you should be doing something useful,” “yes, but what do you do fora living?” They want us to be as miserable as they are. Art at its greatest is an act of play. As in the wonder- ful Hindi concept of the world, it’s being the act of play of the gods. This is called Lila. Beware of those who say you are not serious, who object to your having fun, goofing off, making something beautiful just for the fun of it. “‘A serious person is a serious business. . .” Like Nietzsche, I can believe only in a god who knows how to dance. One of my mottos has long been: adventure, not predicament. We have to be careful of the tyranny of fashion in our present culture which is so insistent upon the imme- diate of what works, what goes, what’s in, what’s the thing. We have to remember that fashion is only the knack of conforming faster than anyone else. That is not the business of the artist. As William Blake remarked, “Great things are done when men and mountains meet. This is not done by jostling in the street.” Art is a ritual act, a priestly function, a private busi- ness. No alchemist can perform a transmutation of base metal into gold without careful preparation, a passion of ‘love and hope, and the knowledge that he is in the service of his living God, whether it is acceptable to anyone else or not. Every pot on the potter’s wheel is a grail. When Marianne Moore was interviewed and asked whether she wrote poetry for fame or for money, she replied, “‘is there no other alternative?’”’ The true practice —continued on page 4 PANS (GES | YES! THEY... = HAVE GROWN LE eae [S85 BuT WAIT! THIER os at Ge THEY SHARE THE OAD... TER ANDESUES.. sil aR =~ KITSCHMAS PARTY at the Helen Pitt Gallery ‘on Saturday December 16th at 8:00 Another erazy student party in tusual bad taste. There will also bea talent show. Can anyone sing, ‘dance, of otherwise entertain? ‘An opportunity to get together before the holiday. less or to make speeches. ‘They are really lunatics interest ed only in Love, Death and Folly. At least I have been called crazy all my life. ‘Marshall McLuhan, in speaking of the condition of weightlessness which biologists promise us may provide physical immortality (when apparently we shall float around the universe like angels), has suggested that the weightlessness should be paralleled by speechlessness. If we were all speechless, what peace and harmony would descend upon mankind, Instead, we have countless solemn idiots sounding off day and night about the Problems of everything. They forget, if they ever knew, that “the reason angels can Ay is that they take themselves lightly.” (Of course we have problems because we are always dissatisfied with our world. But no problem is ever solved, it is only outgrown, ‘The talk of problems that we hear all the time has nothing to do with the artist. His problem is to solve his ‘own problem. That is, to do his own work. For him a life time is too short even to ask the right questions. Critics are as bad as politicians and sociologists. They are always making a problem of art. Critics are frustrated iN taxidermists. They are all filing clerks. What there is no labelled file for, they throw into the waste basket. Critics, like cops and society people, are actively engaged in pre- venting the advance of the arts There was a Pueblo Indian Chief who said chat all white men were obviously erazy because they think with their heads. As for himself, he said, of course he thought with his heart, We must always watch out for the too solemn ones. ‘They would kill off the great delight — the childlike wonder of creation. They say, “you should be doing something useful," “yes, but what do you do fora living?” They want us to be as miserable as they are. ‘Art at its greatest is an act of play. As in the wonder- ful Hindi concept of the world, it’s of the gods. This is called Lila say you are not serious, who object to your having fun, goofing off, making something beautiful just for the fun of it. “A serious person isa serious business..." Like Nietzsche, 1 can believe only in a god who knows how to dance. One of my mottos has long been: adventure, not predicament. We have to be careful of the tyranny of fashion in ‘our present culture which is so insistent upon the imme- ing the act of play eware of those who ‘diate of what works, what goes, what's in, what's the thing. We have to remember that fashion is only the knack of conforming faster than anyone else. That is not the business of the artist. As William Blake remarked, “Great things are de men and mountains meet. ‘This is not done by je ne street.” ‘Are is a ritual a ly function, a private busi ness. No alchemist ean perform a transmutation of base metal into gold without careful preparation, a passion of love and hope, and the knowledge that he is in the service of his living God, whether ic is aeceptable to anyone else ‘or not. Every pot on the potter's wheel is a gral When Marianne Moore was interviewed and asked whether she wrote poetry for fame or for money, she replied, “is there no other alternative?" The true practice “continued on page 4 5 BUT WAIT! FRIEND: 1S S GR [PRAGICKCCIDENT) THEY SHARE THE LOAD... ve TED AND SUE... ARE on ORF aC: THE CITY!