Now that I’ve had a few days to look at my for-real website and proudly read over the first post, I should address what sounds like false altruism in that introduction. The image of social connectedness that I conjured in those opening remarks a few days ago is one of smiling folks holding hands and swaying in an unbroken human ring around the earth. But, this is a blog, so let’s talk about what’s in it for me.
For one thing, I’ve called this site “Look On My Works” (from Shelley’s great sonnet “Ozymandias”) because that’s what I would like you to do: look at my stuff. I make things and I want to share them with you and everyone else I can show them to. The artwork I make and the things I write here are my side of the online conversation that I alluded to in my opening post. If I just wanted to hang out online and make friends, there are plenty of sites, with degrees of anonymity, where I could do that. But, I want my voice to be clear and distinct in this global conversation. This website is the home for that voice.
So, let there be no pretending that this site isn’t, ultimately, all about me. But, for my taste, I’m going to focus on what I make, write, and think, not so much on the trials and joys of my daily personal life. If you’re interested in those, click contact and we’ll talk. For this website, I try to imagine what I’d like to hear and see from my favorite artists, and then use that vision here on the site.
Soon I’ll be writing about some of the art exhibitions I see, mostly here in Las Vegas, where the pickins are slim but persistent, god bless ‘em. And I’ll be posting images of my artwork as it comes down the chute.
Good, now I can proceed with a clearer conscience. In the meantime, I leave you with some Shelley, which is always worth another read.
OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
