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What is inevitable in a work of art is the style. To the extent that a work seems right, just, unimaginable otherwise (without loss or damage), what we are responding to is a quality of its style. The most attractive works of art are those which give us the illusion that the artist had no alternatives, so wholly centered is he in his style.
In order to write well about something, one shouldn't be interested in it any longer. To express an idea with due circumspection, one must have relegated it wholly to one's past; one must no longer be preoccupied with it. As long as the artist is in the process of discovery and inspiration, he is in a state which, as far as communication is concerned, is at the very least intolerant.
The other day I was reminded of those awful makeover TV shows in the 2000s/2010s- they'd take these ladies who either dressed for practicality/ comfort or had really unusual-fashioned senses then cram them into some of the blandest most basic outfits I'd ever seen.
I always remember the emphasis would be on how the "new looks" made someone's legs look longer, or their waist thinner. Nothing else ever seemed to matter. Individuality and taste came second to a flattering fit.
As a teenager/ person in their early 20s, these rules stuck with me and I expect prevented me from expressing myself through fashion. I always felt like that was such a shame.
I'm not sure if anyone else relates to this but I felt compelled to document my thoughts :D
Writing, like dancing, is one of the arts available to people who have nothing. “For ten and sixpence,” advises Virginia Woolf, “one can buy paper enough to write all the plays of Shakespeare.” The only absolutely necessary equipment in dance is your own body.
It is of the essence of joy to reveal itself, while grief tries to hide, sometimes even to deceive. Joy is communicative, social, open-hearted, and desires expression; grief is secretive, silent, solitary, and seeks to retire into itself.