Thursday, August 17, 2006


is there another way?

dot and che and i were having red horse two nights ago in a carenderia in kabacan. we were talking about, well, drunken stuff - from photography to discernment (imagine the full spectrum of topics a bottle of beer can give you).

before we called it a night, we were fathoming the depths and meaning of the artist without a medium. well, there's the usual artist who is very much into the art, she finds expression in her drawings, his colors, her sound, his drums, her poetry, his prose, his clay and in her metal, even in her thoughts and in his angst. these artists are the main stream ones. you know that they are artists by what they do.

but what about those who can't even draw a nice square, can't even combine colors properly, can't even sing/play the guitar in time, has to look at the mouth of the one singing in order to hit the note (believe me the last one is possible)?

kinda frustrating if the definition of an artist lies only in his craft. but we think, an artist is an artist because of the interiority of the soul. and this interiority finds expression in more than conventional means. it could be the infusion of the creative into the daily things that we do. case in point, i may be a business ad person but my artistry is in my photography, in my technical writing, in the way i think of how i can share with the lives of young people in our areas. and probably in the way i love (shit, just have to put that in.)

the bottomline of the artist is to be able to ask the question: is there another way? another way to write a boring report to funders, another way to drink beer (?), another way to write about life, another way to live life, another way to risk, another way to believe in, another way to attain peace.

and it is this "another way" thinking that sets the real artist apart, beyond definitions, beyond explanations. mike and ninin and i were right when we say, "artist ako, di ko kailangang mag-explain."

we raised our glasses as we drained the last drips of rh from our glasses. our eyes were glazy, maybe from the alcohol, but more from the affirmation that we are artists in our own way.


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