OPUS MOPUS

Many artists are immediately overrated through no fault of their own, while others instantly become underrated and gradually emerge.

Two artists I admire—Tracey Emin and Ruth Van Beek—come to mind, at least to my mind.

(But never mind, it doesn’t matter what I think now that I’ve become cynical).

When looking at visual art I sometimes feel such a need to respond, either directly to the artist or the work shown by the gallery or institution the artist is represented by. Rather, having gradually become a cynic, I finally understand there’s really no need to respond other than to the truth of my response, with the goal now of staying alive as long as I can.

Cynicism takes time, it must have time to age, a fine wine.

Writing is another matter, so often an art form which is often mistaken as storytelling, narrative etc. often the kind of stuff Charles Olson called “a tub of butter” after reading Dylan Thomas’ poetry.

Below, a short poem from Olson’s ‘Maximus Poems ‘

Whatever you have to say, leave

The roots on, let them dangle

And the dirt

Just to make clear

Where they came from.