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46 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 13, 2023
“An artist craves an audience, but maybe not all audiences are crave-worthy. “
“Everyone is heroic, the protagonist of their story, the only story they’ll know from the inside out—true, unflinching, joyous in the face of the void. There is light in everything. It is all so beautiful.
“It’s the fashion among some “aspiring artists” at the co-op to formulate their critiques in the harshest terms possible in the belief that they are doing the victim a favor because a “thick skin” is necessary for artists. She’s never really understood their logic, however, since a thin skin, a vulnerability, a sensitivity toward the nuances of reality—a readiness to perceive dragons—is necessary to see the world’s beauty, to feel the tingling in the fabric of the cosmos that is at the foundation of all art.”
“We’re all trying to tell our own story… And we make other people parts of our own stories. We’re meant to bring our stories together, to speak and listen and know that the stories are real and they matter. I’m glad you are a part of my story, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your story as well as I should have. Thank you.”
“Life is one long story we tell ourselves to make sense of the world, and in our quest for meaning, we make other people players in our own psychomachia. Sometimes the consequence of doing that can be terrible, like what happened to me. But it’s worth remembering that everyone is trying their best to look for their dragon, to find the heart of their story, and to then tell it as well as they are able.”
“It’s okay to take art that’s out there and make it part of your own story, to read into it what you want, desire, need—it’s inevitable, really. Maybe that is the only kind of universality possible.
But we should also try to remember that each artist has their own story. An artist doesn’t just crave an audience, but an audience who can hear that story, who can affirm that the story matters.
Everyone deserves that.”
“We’re meant to bring our stories together, to speak and listen and know that the stories are real and they matter.”
"the words are never enough — art, as always, speaks for itself."
‘—each artist has their own story. An artist doesn’t just crave an audience, but an audience who can hear that story, who can affirm that the story matters. Everyone deserves that.’
‘It’s about not being turned into a prop in someone else’s story. It’s about believing that there is meaning in the universe, that you can see a dragon and tell people about it and not have them accuse you of having butchered mushrooms instead. She doesn’t say any of that, of course. Talking with Jack sometimes reminds her of trying to have a conversation with a pigeon. You think you’re making progress until the pigeon takes off, leaving a wet plop behind on the picnic table.’
‘—a “thick skin” is necessary for artists. She’s never really understood their logic, however, since a thin skin, a vulnerability, a sensitivity toward the nuances of reality—a readiness to perceive dragons—is necessary to see the world’s beauty, to feel the tingling in the fabric of the cosmos that is at the foundation of all art.’
‘No one at the Fresh Food Basket knows she paints; no one there has connected her to the “Mushroom Lady” (or, if they have, they haven’t said anything to her). She can just be an employee, playing a role, her own story as opaque to others as theirs are to her. They don’t know she’s drowning, and that can be strangely comforting.’
‘Kay feels awkward. She’s been avoiding her friend. She feels bad that Solana is working so hard to make her feel better, and it doesn’t work—it’s like Kay is failing her somehow.’
‘Because Kay can no longer paint, she reads. She’s fascinated by the experiences of artists whose signature work was misunderstood, drafted into stories they didn’t agree to. Octavia Butler, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, even the curmudgeonly Robert Frost.’
“If I cared about being understood, I’d stop writing.”
‘They don’t have much success. It’s hard to get people to love a mushroom, even in the form of adorable plushies, and no celebrity takes up their cause. In fact, a popular singer who Kay has never heard of is caught on camera making disdainful remarks about the fuzzy oversized mushroom shoved in her face by an activist at one of her concerts. The obviously meme-able moment causes a minor ripple on social media before it’s forgotten.’
‘Life is one long story we tell ourselves to make sense of the world, and in our quest for meaning, we make other people players in our own psychomachia. Sometimes the consequence of doing that can be terrible, like what happened to me. But it’s worth remembering that everyone is trying their best to look for their dragon, to find the heart of their story, and to then tell it as well as they are able: the activists trying to save their valley, the Chilton fans celebrating their favourite poet, even Aaron H., even the trolls who called me a plant and a hack.’
‘—what she does is seen as insufficiently ironic, lacking rigour or distance. But she doesn’t mind. She’s not writing for other critics and isn’t interested in their good opinion. (The critics are also trying to tell their own stories, like everyone else, and maybe they deserve their empathetic audience, too—it’s just not going to be her.)
We’re all doing our best to see the dragon and record its passing.’
‘There are still a few people at ArtNow who call her “the mushroom lady”; she still struggles with tuning them out.’
‘Each wingbeat feels like a breath taken by the universal lung, the perpetual bellows that drives all Life in the Dao De Jing. The creature is the platonic ideal of Creature, the very Form of all consciousness.’
‘Instead of describing her images as metaphors for Big Tech, for the surveillance state, for the convergence of the digital with the physical, she writes about the wonder of exploration, of seeing the mechanistic as indistinguishable from the naturalistic, of admiring the physical exuviations of our infinite-facultied mind. She writes about the yearning for the numinous—’
‘She doesn’t like everything she reviews—who can?’
Life is one long story we tell ourselves to make sense of the world, and in our quest for meaning, we make other people players in our own psychomachia.