The whole thing is to peel away the scales on our eyes and make an attempt at seeing the truth without saying too much.
This is nearly next to impossible. We want to talk and describe. Everybody’s describing these days.
R. B. Kitaj said painters have one battle cry, “Look…. Look at my picture!”
Each layer of paint is applied in our material world and gathered in the realm of the invisible.
As “bees of the invisible” painters, musicians, poets partake of the nectar of reality at its sweetest core and remake it physically into their individual offerings.
It seems to me that no matter how hard we try it is nearly impossible to divorce even the most flippant of artistic responses as non-spiritual, as lacking in some kind of connection to the hidden thought or some unseen or unknown world, i.e. the transcendental.
There’s mystery there… somewhere in the process and the result. The various worlds that we are not allowed to “see” or travel into while living in the material world, yet have a taste for because faith, fear, or stubbornness cause us to secretly know something outside of ourselves beyond this “reality”.
The fear of what is unknowable keeps us resolving the problem of our despair over our personal deconstruction (death) and our cultural selfishness.
