Old art

I go about forcing, fitting square pegs into round holes, in my day job. At night and on the weekends, I must switch sides, and let it come to me, if I’m to make any art. It refuses to be forced. It seems to me that beauty is natural. It comes from an older source, that has always been here, long before us. What we create with our technology and economy is synthetic and modern. This may be a means to art, a means of production especially. But the source must still come from the trees and acts of love that have been here for eternity. That is the art we are drawn to. Even for art that may seem to be built on modern precepts, the root of it is always the ancient and natural that has moved us from the beginning.