Unquiet Desperation
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Author Topic: Why should Art necessitate sacrifice ?  (Read 5746 times)
Mr. Goldberg
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« on: October 27, 2008, 03:36:14 PM »

What is all this what have you sacrificed for art drivel anyway ?  Since when did art necessitate sacrifice  ? I should imagine those in professions such as coalmining, the military, heavy industry, healthcare, abbatoir operatives, the fire service have sacrificed far more than the artist. I would even go as far as to say the scientist has to sacrifice much more in realising or achieving  through in a line  of experiments as Einstein did ...1% inspiration 99% perspiration. Without Newton no law of gravity, Faraday no lightbulbs, Foucault no gyroscope, Einstein  no atom bomb or inter dimensional possibilities. All this only after a lifetime of devotion and failed experiments before arriving at the one that actually worked. Curie, Petrie, Boyle the list goes on.  Most of these people practically killed themselves - Curie in particular with radiation poisoning  - in pursuit of realising their goals problems or theorems which had subsequent knock on effects for the entire human race. Did you know Newton actually burned his own house down to prove the law of gravity ?

Poets ! "Ooooh look at me in this coffee shoppe or wine bar with me designer frayed cuffs and hair gel to give me that tousled look and me Gauloise Circle Bleu cig and me John Lennon specs and white face cream to make me look oh so tortured and sacrificed. Yes i'll slurp cafee latte please at £3 a time and invest in screwing up the third world even more.  Ooo ! Don't I look a bit like Lord Byron as I scribble me outpourings on a serviette once I've checked everyone's watching me ! "  Sacrifice ? Edelweiss more like.

I somehow don't see this notion of sacrifice paralleled in the lives of Pinter, Miller, Shepherd, Bryson, the Brontes, Shelley, Keats , Coleridge the latter of which led by and large very easy and indulgent lives...Huxley in particular..never had money worries and high on Mescalin churning out works from a luxurious  book lined mansion. Mozart couldn't have had it cushier. Hardy in his country cottage turning depression and despair into a saleable literary commodity. TS Eliot actually wore white face make up at cocktail parties to make himself look pale and interesting. DH Lawrence had a fetish about this particular leather shirt he had, dancing naked through glades with his missus (Baron Von Richtoven's sister). No wonder MI5 were watching him. Sacrifice ? Yeh right Dave.

I'll tell ya what sacrifice is - serving five years on the Eastern Front as I did and two more in Bhagdadford . Went away a boy. Came back a man. Turned into Goldberg. That's sacrifice.

SACRIFICE ? PAH !  Ready another virgin for the slab and toast another goat on the bonfire as Uncle Barney used to say.
« Last Edit: October 27, 2008, 04:40:24 PM by Mr. Goldberg » Logged
Vix0r
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« Reply #1 on: October 27, 2008, 04:56:12 PM »

I have to say I'm with you on this one Goldie. Too much bemoaning for far too little output deserving of such.
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Mr. Goldberg
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« Reply #2 on: October 27, 2008, 05:04:12 PM »

Thank you lassie as usual the voice of reason. My even keel in these choppy waters. Even your contradictions help me steer a stright course.
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ahazura
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« Reply #3 on: October 29, 2008, 12:39:34 PM »

Sacrifices for poets, small ones I'm sure but not to the degree that it needs to be mentioned. Sacrifices are something to be proud of and brings no shame. Had to put my two cents in.
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Mr. Goldberg
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« Reply #4 on: October 29, 2008, 03:46:15 PM »

I never said sacrifice and shame go hand in hand but you won't get much for two cents. Uncle Barney told me. Do you like the word "foundling " ? It's a term I coined for picking up dropped coins which I do wherever I see them. Doesn't matter whether I'm flush or not - I can't bear to see a penny or two or five or ten lying abandoned on a pavement (sidewalk). So my life stops while I retrieve it. Thing is ...of late there seems to be an abundance of copper coinage wherever I go at the oddest of times. Pennies from heaven ? Or kids using em as projectiles ? I found £30 in notes once in a gutter.

I once sacrificed an entire afternoon slitting open the underside of my sofa and retrieved £26. 83 in assorted  coinage... moved onto the armchairs and did the same to the tune of £18.32 ...it's amazing what you find your settee's being eating for months. 
« Last Edit: October 29, 2008, 04:03:17 PM by Mr. Goldberg » Logged
Vix0r
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« Reply #5 on: October 29, 2008, 03:52:44 PM »

I used to have the best sofa ever. It was a brown cotton affair with the stitching so it was split into those diamond shapes and it flipped down to become a bed. It was ace! It could be a racing car or flying machine or tent or even a coconut machine where we threw "coconuts" in and out they popped, de-shelled with their milk bottled conveniently. An inspiration for imagination if ever there was one. Much much fun was had....

I don't see why sacrifices would bring shame, apart from ones going undeserved of the pride they bring in some people. Example, giving a pound to a homeless man and puffing out your chest as you think you're the best, kindest person ever and boasting to everyone so. That's a bit shameful.
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Mr. Goldberg
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« Reply #6 on: October 29, 2008, 03:59:02 PM »

What a sofa !! Did you slit it's underbelly to retrieve its contents ? You think about all the discarded sofas and armchairs up and down the country that were never plundered for pocket change...you could make a mint. In terms of the economy that's serious amounts of M1 as it's termed going unused...there's probably about twenty entire salaries floating about out there. A bit like the American golf ball entrepreneur who made his millions retrieving and reconditioning old golf balls from lakes and parks...so there you go ED two more ways of raising funds for UD...get behind the sofa and dive in the park lake.
« Last Edit: October 29, 2008, 04:05:48 PM by Mr. Goldberg » Logged
Vix0r
Guest
« Reply #7 on: October 29, 2008, 04:39:16 PM »

I did not slit it as it had no places for change to hide. Besides, I loved it too much. It was when I had my own, old room, which I adored. I read my favourite point horror book about six times in a row on that, on a cool day while listening to that old Madonna album.

It got thrown away when my brother got my room and I moved in with my sister.
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Mr. Goldberg
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« Reply #8 on: October 29, 2008, 05:12:22 PM »

Indeed. My own sofa is very much a temple to Soporiphic sittingness, a chaise longue of langorous longingness, yearning quilted it envelops me in my hour of utmost need as I recline recumbent in its cosy folds...oh sofa ...oh sofa...th'art my centrepice...the jewel in my domestic crown nestled in the green of my quilted Fleurs de Lys duvet throw...upon which  do I fight those battles thrashing and flailing with my inner being and crash out after a night wi Ploe or Trace. Oh sofa...
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The Bolshevik Dandy
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Pablo Picasso
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« Reply #9 on: November 04, 2008, 08:31:32 PM »

On the issue of Sacrifice it is simply referiing to those little prikles one sometimes feels one has had or has inflicted upon oneself.....these ARE usually minor things but y'know....
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