Self absorbtion or self description?

You know, the more I contemplate what I’m doing with this site, the more I realize just how uncertain I am about things. So much of what I have to say seems so self-absorbed, so self-important. But, at the same time I seem to pull a thread through it all that makes it pertinent to a bigger picture(at least to me). Another aspect of the democratization that this tool facilitates; we can all say something. Part public diary (perhaps an oxymoron), part platform to proclaim- “I believe this. Engage me.” A large part of this is the fact that I am a fairly quiet, self-contained person, not terrifically social or talkative. I do feel passionate about some things (quite a few really) however, and so here we are. It seems that I’m sharing what I am about myself on this site in the belief that what I have to say is so deeply interconnected with my art and politics that I don’t know where to draw the line, or to what degree a distinction needs to be drawn- the personal is political.

Clearly I’m not a writer, and the rather oblique fashion I take is pretty indicative of an absence of formal education. I, like so many other people in this life, am engaged in on the job training. I’m wanting to recall a quote of Noam Chomsky that a friend mentioned; something about (I’ll parabutcher here) “Never has there been more opportunity to get an education than right now, you just won’t get it at a university.”

I’ll, for now, lay things down in the following format- (having the heart of a poet, as someone whom I respect told me once. Not a poet, just the heart of one.) who, what, why, when, and how. If you’re wondering where the where is? The glorious Sonoran desert (except for a short, extremely important spell in that unsustainable conglomeration called El Lay).

Who am I? The label I was given, which is derived from my family’s past, is John Steven Holmes. A human being, and according to the systemic structure that rational thinking has developed over the last few centuries, Homo sapiens. The Latin root sapiens means wise, to have discriminating taste, to be sensible. Who I am is born of my senses; I am, and we, this species, are sensible. Although, perceiving the things going on around me I wonder if it isn’t time to reassess this description. I was born August 25th, 1964. I am not a fixed, static state but a perpetually changing being, and as such, this could be a long list of adjectives that will continue to grow. I am an artist, I am a frosting maker on the cake of society. And lest you question the value of the arts, ask yourself, which do you prefer, cake with or without frosting? And how much more will you pay for that?

What do I do? I make the things that come into my mind. I respond to the feelings that arise from my perceptions that in turn modify my definitions of myself. The answer is contingent upon the question, or rather the statement-“I am”- dissatisfied with my surroundings, I will change the stimulus to create a state of satisfaction. This is also modified by when I have done what I have done.
Why do I do what I do? Because I am dissatisfied with my state of being and the conditions that shape my perceptions.
When have I done things? The answer to that question is an extensive list of actions laid out in a chronological fashion, that for many people contribute to the definitions, the answer to the question of who I am. To those of you who might like a bit more, I’ll post what passes for my c.v. soon.And you can bet I'll have a lot of poetic fun with that one as well.
How do I do that which I have done and will do? Answer-technical training and accumulated experiences that have provided me with insight into the nature of material reality and the means of manipulating those materials to satisfy my needs.
So much for the playful/poetic approach. In this world, if I want to wear the label of “Artist” as a professional, I find it funny that a segment of our society that has a history of breaking with convention can be so goddamned static and utterly rigid, so uncompromising in its expectations of presentation, format and formality. I try to play the game most of the time, but sometimes I like to test the load bearing limits of the “rules”; how far do they bend before they break?
An artists statement is a bit of all of what I have been so loquaciously pouring out; an expression of why I do what I do, a little bit of what I do, how I do what I do. I guess the when is what is in a c.v..

My philosophy of art, of aesthetics, is also one of healing, of filling the void, of first identifying the unmet need that drives us all. I believe that all of us, everywhere, do what we do because we believe it to be, at some level (usually unknown to us though) good for us; it resolves something inside us. A friend told me once that we all have holes in us that we need filled, it’s just that what we use to fill those holes doesn’t always fit; it may feel good, but that doesn’t mean it fits.

For now, simply put-I make beauty. The next question might be- “What is beauty?” Setting that one aside for a moment, the drive to creation needs to be addressed first. I make something in response to an absence. I don’t make something I already have; the experiential baseline is that of -not beautiful. I’m not saying ugly; that is something altogether different, although I honestly haven’t given it much thought. The baseline is a negative, not having that which I desire. Where does this desire to make come from? An absence, a void, a dissatisfaction, a negative.

I am- a reality modifier, one who engages in action in response to my perceptions, my sensations that allow me to discriminate between my senses according to the quality of those perceptions and the effect those sensations have upon my state of being. My reality is-( fill in the blank). Your actions will follow from that description. What you do depends upon how you feel, literally upon your perceptions, your physical sensitivity to your surroundings. How you describe your reality will inform how you behave. To be sensitive is to be more fully human. The degree to which we are sensitive is the degree to which we are humane. To perceive in a discriminating fashion is to be human. Sensitivity is contingent upon awareness, cognition. I think, therefore I am. My reality is that which I perceive. What I perceive is subject to my actions. I am a doer, I engage in action, I am an actor. Am I what I do?