I decided that I wanted to write a little less private. A little less: ‘the 10 people I know that put up with my writing’ have read it. I thought I might look for a class or a contest, just a place to see whether or not I could be a writer. Having the dream to be a writer is not new, but actually trying to more actively pursue it now is a little ironic. I was kicked out of my class because I could not deliver sufficient content for an academic paper. At the university writing has never been my strong suit. However, ideas have been graded more generously. Presentations always were good so it is not that I’m not good with words.. However, writing is something entirely different then talking. And if you write like I do, like you are talking- only slightly slower because your fingers on the keyboard have to keep up- you bring yourself in a particularly messy situation. The truth however is that good writing has never been my aspiration. Rather I am looking for a creative way to express my ideas. To be surprised by what words, word combinations and exact coordination can deliver. What does it deliver? Poetry in prose. Not necessarily what they want you to give in academics. It is a fairly limited field, science and academics. It is so tedious and there is little space for new ideas. The ideas can exist as long as they fit in the format of being not to original a.k.a. being based on things other people have written. Excuse me. They are not based on what others have written but rather words of others are carefully selected to put an ‘Amen’ to your words. The truth is they might has well had very different ideas and would never agree with your argument. For that reason and the tediousness of trying to find words somewhere to keep your argument valid, I do not like basing my writing on that of others, or selectively quoting them just to make my argument more profound-looking.
Rather I like to be inspired. I love reading something and being surprised by the thoughts, ideas, arguments and poetry of sentences and paragraphs. And then a most wonderful process can begin, the process of association. The process of two things that previously had nothing in common except that they were seen by me, and connected. This association can happen throughout space and time, class and medium, culture and origin. That’s what I love about art history, some of the arguments may seem farfetched but connecting two artworks form different times and different cultures show that everything can come together, and that connecting two seemingly different things can create narratives beyond imagination. The funny thing is that there is always gravity inside institutions, disciplines and in me. I wanted to write that the idea of writing contests made me want to write things that do not come naturally from me. Fiction. Non-fiction about facts instead of ideas. Ultra-short stories or god forbid, really-really long stories. However this is what I can do. Starting somewhere and ending somewhere else. I don’t know if it’s good but it feels great. It feels like being a leave falling down the wind, gently being pulled down by gravity. The gravity within me.