The Imposition of Time
The Imposition of Time
1965, Greenwich Village Period
Pastel on Newsprint
A pastel sketch on newsprint paper done in the Greenwich Village studio apartment on Bedford Street in downtown New York City, Manhattan Island.
I was beginning to find out that pastels were marvelously suited to experiments in abstract expressionism since they weren't as fiddly as oils. However, as I was soon to find out, I wouldn't have much time to expand on these early experiments.
The cut-throat retail world of the United States was soon to descend, starting with the escalation of Viet Nam. In fact that's why the United States has yet to produce a world class artist of the stature of Rembrandt of Michelangelo. It doesn't care how talented a person is, he or she is only just another statistic whose labor is to be bargained with.
That's something Worhol understood, and Jackson Pollok as well such as many others. The only way they could survive as creative artist in this country was to come up with gimmicks. It's arguable that if Pablo Picasso were to have grown up in America, he never would have made it as an artist.
Am I bitter about it? Not really. It's just to point out an obvious futility in passing. I mean, whatever, man. You just have to face reality that you as a country are not the great civilization you thought you were or that you could have been. You have to look to the past, to the Netherlands or to Italy to find the last of the truly great civilizations.
What went wrong? Something, I suppose that almost happened to England. A fizzle, a tempest in a teacup, much ado about nothing; a peasants' revolt with a bar room ballad for a national anthem. An Uncle Sam who was really a clown in the 19th century. It's like the myth of the land Jason sailed past that worked day and night without ceasing making nothing but weapons. A world in which there is no true beauty, only greed.
So what? Turn your head and they're gone. Insignificant specks in time. There were many examples of nations like the United States in history, though you haven't heard of them. Because they were forgotten. Replaced by those who truly did something momentous and memorable, like great artwork.
It's a cheap shot; a land of gamblers, eclipsed by Monaco and other casino stops on the jet-set highway. A cross-section of the global community; a great example of what not to do when people of all nations get together as one in a land of utmost prosperity. Where education is denied to the masses so that they might become better consumers to keep the economy afloat in times of tight money. Where tasteless, mindless people drift to and fro, cruising the streets in grotesque and extravagant vehicles, looking for nothing but the next can of beer.
Pointless. Meaningless. Insignificant. Soon to be forgotten; victims of oblivion; pared into a void and left for dead. The collectively insane, mixing extreme denial with delusions of grandeur. Grotesque wizards all fighting over the same little piece of spongiform infested hamburger.
But I'm not bitter. Terribly disappointed and deeply ashamed, yes. But not bitter and certainly not impressed. The last century saw America bungle the greatest opportunity to become a momentous civilization the world had ever known. I saw it. I'm a witness. I stood by helplessly and watched it all shrink away in horror.
Now the chance is gone. Time once again imposes change, opportunity will not knock again, the book is already closed on this sad episode. Shortly the inevitability will become apparent and then play itself out as it's victims hang on by their fingernails. Oh, there will be a few last chances along the way, there always are. But they will be ignored. Too many are so arrogant they will not admit to being wrong. And that is what it takes to turn things around.
Click here to return to the Greenwich Village Period Sketch Pad
Click any of the following to go there:
The Paul Hall literature directory
The Imposition of Time.
Time will soon once again impose it's changes and then the book is closed, and opportunity will not knock again.
Copyright © 2003 [Paul Hall]. All rights reserved.
email address: art@paulhallart.com