Maybe it's because my life was almost perfect. White house with black shutters. Green lawn. Friendly neighborhood. My parents took me to school everyday. Made my lunch. The cute little note from my mom in my lunch box.
But there was something missing. Real feeling. Real struggle and triumph. Emotion deep and honest and brutal.
And then began the search for the terror in my life. Music. Movies. Books. Art. Theater. The dark side of life.
While I was playing Bach and Mozart, I kept thinking in Bartok, Rachmaninov, Beethoven, Kabalevsky.
Really experiencing life. See the beauty in the struggle and the complete exploration of human emotions.
Awe.
The post-apocalyptic literature? What if there were an end to the world? What would survive? Everything would be stripped and broken down to its basic parts.
I read post-apocalyptic literature because it dramatizes the worst part of everything.
Update on my creative project: I'm narrowing down the images. I'm still trying to decide if I should choose images based on my paper or something completely different. Ideas?
No comments:
Post a Comment