FOUNDATION and CREED
I advocate for a new unification in the Western Arts. I do not think that this is a trivial enterprise to undertake. No mere bohemian commune or Expressionist enclave, nor some flowery garden where one can paint Monetesque water lilies to the hearts content in idyllic splendor. Rather it will be a bringing together of the vital forces — masculine virility, strength of will, ardor of character, moral conviction, creativity and ego — and the crucial spheres of discourse — politics, religion, philosophy, sex, race, science and culture. This new school of thought of the arts no mere factory of window-dressing and haughty pretension but rather one of cold reason, clear forethought and purposeful external energy — we of this new aesthetic magisterium act and re-act with our art. We use art as a stepping stone for our goals, our creation’s persistence a monument to our achievements, both past and present and of those still yet to come. Ironclad, militaristic and unyielding save in the face of yet greater magnificence.
We shall herald a return to form, to the classics, to allegory, to forthright symbolism, to meaning, to beauty. We shall return to the past but we shall not stymie there — we do not wish to be the Old Masters we wish to surpass them. We do not seek to write as Faulkner or Sophocles, we seek to do them one better, to build upon their exploits. Nor do we wish to molder away in the septic confines of some decaying museum — our art is active, aggressive and formative. Art, in essence, is creation, therefore we shall be builders — societal architects. We will sound a vivid horn of combat against the invading hordes of socialism, deconstructionism, postmodernism, liberalism, egalitarianism, feminism, Islam, and every other nihilistic vice of thought and invasive mental infection.
We shall be political satirists, lampooning the folly of the hypocritical “talking suits,” we will be graffiti artists, prowling the streets to shame and oust the deviant and the criminal with florid scrawl. We shall be painters and illustrators, etchers and sculptors, crafting grand displays of our societies virtues and dire reminders of follies long since past. We shall be writers cutting straight to the heart of the human soul and expounding upon all manner of philosophies, ills and virtues, witticisms and worthwhile knowledge. We shall be architects who craft mighty monuments to our communities, our nations and our highest aspirations — those angels of our better natures.
Obviously this is far from likely to take place anytime soon – merely the future as we wish it to be but not a future completely beyond obtainment. The internet at large is a wonderful place but one which is far from ideal for consistently constructive dialogue — especially in regards to the “pretentious” nature of art (how detached the act of purposeful creation has become from reality!). Thus it is ever important to engage in real life, on a local level, to speak to one’s friends and acquaintances – to debate and convince but not to preach. To be more than some nameless, faceless, shapeless mass of words and images hanging in the whirling void of cyberspace, ever slipping through the shimmering cracks of bio-hum like so many grains of hourglass sand. Those wild flung and ghosting words are merely a catalyst to a greater collective emergence of individual power — they are not the ends but only the means.
The ends are built upon direct and consistent conversation, a face-to-face engagement. The eyes are the windows to the soul – this is not said for nothing. And so it is important to be ever vigilant against building one’s artistic ideals upon the echos of others whose muted mouthings one can barely make out. We always guard against the pitfalls of unconscious role-play, how terribly easy a thing in a warbling space where there are no longer any consequences for one’s actions! And how ridiculous it appears to the reflective to see a artist shouting down the world or building up his own when he knows nothing more of it than what he’s read in college!
We now know our trajectory. We know our art, our ideals, our enemies and our friends. We know of our failings, those inherent and inheritable. We need now only find our courage — courage enough to speak of our ruthless art in the classrooms, cafes and galleries of our lands. To be able to hoist our thoughts from the darkened inkwells of our minds unto glossy pages and rough-worked canvas, unhindered by fear of rejection or reconciliation.
The bridges have already been burned and so we learn to swim.