THOUGHTS: The Cultivation of Taste as High Art
I can't paint, I can't draw, but I have taste and I have opinions and that's enough for me
When I was trying to be a visual artist I knew I was seriously limited by things like, say, the fact that I can barely draw a straight line. But take someone like the British musician, rock historian and archeologist Julian Cope. None of Cope’s bands are very good, in fact, they’re all disappointingly mediocre. Nevertheless, Cope’s TASTE, documented extensively on his Head Heritage website and in his excellent books on subjects like Krautrock and Japanese psychedelic rock, he still cultivated a very specific aesthetic that gripped me.
What is art if not the cultivation of a recognizable and meaningful aesthetic and the imposition of it on the world?
Lester Bangs as well; he wanted to be a rock n roll musician, but sucked at making music. Is anyone going to argue that his rock criticism doesn’t provoke, thrill and inspire in a manner much similar to that of a great work of art? Artist Mike Kelley’s work was great on its own. But in his writing about other art, his work became infinitely more interesting. His taste shaped how you looked at his work and how it related to the work of other, lesser, poser artists.
Point is, I internalized the idea that the cultivation of taste was a legitimate art form if practiced a certain way, and by aggressively imposing my taste on the art world I eventually became a recognizable figure.
This realization also led me to writing, which I found that I did have a legitimate natural gift for, which was nice. But I didn’t want to be a writer, I wanted to be an artist. So I found this way of thinking, applied it to what I was good at (writing, talking on podcasts, cultivating my own image, espousing right wing political ideals), and found a way to reconcile the initial grief of my own failure.
Even daring to be an artist is a monumental effort in self sabotage, you’re basically begging people to call you out for being a joke and setting the stage for your own downfall. Drugs, sex, meditation, and bodybuilding—my preferred method of coping with the void that is failure—will never come as close to reconciling the pain of inability as a honed mental attitude that allows you to see the strength in what you are personally capable of. You need mental gymnastics to gain a sense of peace with it all, and you need to not give a flying fuck. It’s uncouth and frowned upon to be a sociopath in your personal relationships, at work, and in the general way with which you interact with the world. But when it to being an artist, be a fucking psycho. Be evil. Be bullet proof and indestructible. That’s why I still love what Ye is doing, I’ve never seen someone give so little fucks on such a massive platform.
I think about the aesthetics of things often and how what I like is great and how it’s in my DNA.