Well, I’ve finally done it. I’ve claimed my piece of online real estate and nailed my name above the front door. It’s something I’ve planned to do for some time now, but there’s always been an excuse.
I wonder, though. About the usefulness of it. In a world of infinite sources of information, a world that folds distance and time into the staccato bursts of the keyboard, is there anything left to say? Are there any stones that remain unturned? And, does it matter?
I’m loath to suggest that my ideas (or words) are uniquely mine. I’ve read too much and seen too much for that to be true. But the point, in the end, is that they are mine in that I’ve processed them using a lens, a filter, a bias that is uniquely mine. That’s the best I can offer.
I recently read a passage in The Autograph Man (by Zadie Smith) that really appealed to me. It’s an extension of this theme: the validity or utility of creative production. In reflecting upon his novel-in-progress, the protagonist wonders where all the things that no one wants are? We all know where the things we “want” are. They’re on TV, in blockbuster films, (read: The Mass Media) and everyone “gets it.” Then, there’s art with a capital “a” – painting, sculpture, etc. – which he figures is not created for everyone, but always has someone in mind. And that someone gets what they want out of it.
“But where are the things that no one wants? … Who was left to make stuff for no one?”
Who is left to make stuff for no one? This idea really struck me.
No one will be waiting for what I make. So, maybe I’m making this for no one. A nobler pursuit there never was.
And, so, it begins …
