Maybe it's not the quantity, but the quality of those involved in creating what is art. I am not a business man, I hate having to talk about money. Art breathed life into my existence many years ago, now it seems that the trials of expressing what's inside of me is draining that same life from my very being.
We try so very hard to say something, people listen and then they move onto the next stimulating noise or visual experience.
Why do we humans even bother at all with life, really...what do we wish to accomplish by living it out? Does our mere existence somehow affect the system of the World, it's worth and value? There is no more value in life...man's ideology has consumed our own peace... and civility is over rated...perhaps.
Money and the love of it...brings us all to our knees...and then-----------then we break! Tell me, what is "worthiness" worth? People are so fucking shallow, if they only knew the value of passion...it burns the chaff away from the statues of mediocrity... Why do we celebrate that which we have created...that which has come from our own ambitious and self absorbed propaganda buffet of thought and reason... Fuck it! How profound and worthless is the "Human Canvas".
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