An open letter to Stuart…
Your central theme… Art!!? Aliens!? What's the intersection!? 😉
Where is their art? What is it with them and earth artists? Why all this creativity?
I've had thoughts on this, some clarity of A perspective… Nothing to be taken too seriously, but may be fodder for your considerations.
After your recent conversation with Kristen B, I'm moved to offer them… Perhaps in no particular order:
A. No aesthetic effort is required to match the boundless beauty of the divine.
B. On earth, art is a tool of exploration of form, it is an artifact of self-expression, it is a representation of fine craft; in these other realms, these functions are performed differently.
C. Art is an expression of the creative impulse alive, as the Buddhists say — in the liveliness of Primordial Wisdom's Awakened Awareness… Touching itself to inspire new ejaculations of form and wonder in the interest of love!
You may be familiar with Coleman Barks (from the album, I Want Burning) reading of the poetess, Lalla. I'm reminded of her words, dancing through the streets naked, singing out, "what clothes could be this beautiful?"
Perhaps the absence of attire (or fashion sense) of our, in various ways, advanced brethren may simply be a deep recognition of this natural beauty, clothing (indigo robes and all) – simply utilitarian, right down to their magnificent colors performing some function beyond our current grasp of wavelength’s implications.
I remember, as a youth, roaming the mountains of Montana, I would stop in the forest, sit down next to a lichen covered rock and collect natural minutia from the ground around me, staging a miniature mountainside diorama from the fractal forms found on the forest floor.
I enjoyed this work, almost always in places where it was entirely unlikely that it would be happened upon by another. I was exploring form, not necessarily consciously, but in reflection I was indeed studying the cosmic patterns arising in nature. Even as a teenager, I would see deep history and life flowing in the patterns of rock on a cliffside.
I am a Buddha, performing the rites of ignorance with profound brilliance these days, I have completely lost myself in the ritual and the role! 🙂
In my drunken delusion, I imagine that were I at once to realize this tri-kakaya as my enlightened primordial wisdom (while still living in some mirror facets of flesh) I might have less need for the whimsical play of material sculpture to investigate the nature of form… Maybe our mysterious brothers and sisters can see this inquiry more clearly than I; undoubtedly so.
Music, sculpture, painting, life itself as art (my particular favorite), each of these represent a medium of expression, some perspective – razor fine and honed, explosively chaotic, familiar, or wild — of the interior of the author (these words for example.)
What if one can communicate their sacred unique perspective to another, or indeed perhaps to many others, without hesitation by transcending the seeming boundaries of I/thou… Our popular hero, Spock needed his fingers and your temple to accomplish such a feat, your Mantoid friend needed apparently, much less, and here you are today still teasing out the majesty of that sacred “gift."
Our earth brother, Leonard Cohen once said “Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.”
Maybe they do not display artifacts, because they have become extraneous to the underlying purpose of "letting the beauty we love, be what we do."
To the intersectionality of these wild neighbors, and artistic expression here on earth, maybe it is quite a simply matter of an "evolved" creative impulse, bursting into the life forms of our primitive structure and culture…
In any case, this is all undoubtedly nonsense. If you've made it this far, I pray with all the depths of my soul that you have found one crumb of useful fodder in the mix.
Otherwise, I count coup on you!
Endnote: Stuart Davis is among my very favorite artists, with profound depth, and juvenile irreverence, he explores the sacred, the mundane, the weird, and sometimes himself indecently and in public, in ways that evoke the deeper streams of love, compassion, silliness and laughter, and perhaps above all, a broken open being to the cosmic wonder everywhere around us.
This open letter is a reflection I make to him after listening joyfully to all 76 of his interviews in the podcast series, Aliens & Artists, exploring where we are in this cosmic neighborhood of ours, and what the hell any of this has to do with art, beauty, madness, and the general creativity of the mystery.
Check out his work, the arrogant SOB will bend your mind with the utmost humility.
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…