Vorhandenheit

When it comes to creative genius, some draw from the most poignant, beautiful experiences of life. Others, the most abysmal, dire and wretched of them.

Others, from the logic and some from the foolishness of the art Vorhandenheit, presence-at-hand [sorry, I’m on a Heidegger kick at the moment].

Regardless, I see the far reaches of the concept of what may be deemed as art, if that statement could be made at all.

It’s just not all square. From da Vinci to van Gogh, to Basquiat, or to Riley.

Or, from Epictetus to Shakespeare, to Heidegger, to Wilde, and to Barbery.

It’s not all square.
It shouldn’t be captured.