The "A" Word and a Night of It
I'm sure I can't be the only one with an aversion to referring to myself as one. I'm not even completely sure why I cringe when saying the word in regards to myself considering how much of my life is directed towards it. I don't care if other people say it about themselves, so why do I have such a hard time? Despite all the horrible connotations it drags around, I really can't think of a better word that encompasses as much, but sounds less pretentious though, so I guess I'm left calling myself an artist and what I do art.
Maybe my problem with the word art is how little it actually does define anything now. From the self proclaimed artistry of The Art of the Deal (the word is in the title) to the opposite end of the spectrum, with The Mona Lisa and The Sistine Chapel, it's hard to know objectively what degree of art you're taking part in other than the fact that you fit somewhere between Donald Trump and DaVinci. There's little comfort in that though.
If we are to believe science's claim (which we should) that we are 99.9% the same, then I'm left with knowing that my best chances of making art is the process of honing in and creating from that minuscule fraction that makes me unlike anyone else. That's the only justification that I can personally find to call myself an artist. Now whether or not I'm any good is a whole different story.
These shots were taken one night while we were hanging out with Jes and ***** while they were in town. I think Jes termed it an "art night", which was appropriate. Among the hours of creative energy exerted was also a lot of laughing, joking, drinking, smoking, and eating. All normal things friends do together, but with a lot of nakedness. Ariane burned through quite a bit of film on her new polaroid camera and I have more photos than I know what to do with. Though I may avoid the term artist, I definitely don't avoid being around them. It's too much of a good time.