#55 On moving some place better (part 12: the starving artist phase– South Beach, FL)

The idea of the “starving artist” is one, which during the first part of my time in South Beach, I revered and practically worshiped. It’s one thing to tell you about my “aesthetics” specifically, but quite another to tell you about how I conceptualized what an “artist” is, how I evolved in the sense of identifying myself as an artist, and the story behind that evolution.

This story begins with my father who was a photographer and a painter who possessed extreme (maybe excessive?) fascination with female sexuality, nudity, and pornography, and who exposed me to the imagery of female sexuality before I was even a teenager. It was through my father that I was also exposed to and influenced by the works of Picasso and Van Gogh. As far as my own interests were concerned, by the time I was 9 or 10, I discovered the world of television, movie acting, and John Travolta. In fact, Travolta became my hero and idol. I became a sort of expert on his career and he is one of the earliest direct influences in my attempts to conceptualize art, as well as career, and to have a career as an artist. 

Even before I developed a conscious love for movies and acting I was, it seemed, inherently creative. I would pretend my life was a series of television shows. I would determine theme songs of these “TV shows” and when nobody else was around, I would ever pretend to give interviews about them or explain what had happened “previously on…” whichever imaginary show, or what would happen in the next “episode.”

Through studying the works of Travolta (along with Tom Hanks and other actors) I grew exposed not merely to film acting performances and a notion of career, but also I became a kind of autodidact of film in general, specifically film dialogue and the themes in movies, such as race relations, the Holocaust, American history, love, art, et cetera. 

The girlfriend I had while living in South Beach, was, herself, an aspiring filmmaker with a profound passion for film. By the time I was living in South Beach I was more interested in poetry than film but the notions of art and film that propelled my artistic inclinations as such were so deeply embedded within me that despite other problematic aspects of our relationship, our shared love for film became a foundation for our romance. 

(TO BE CONTINUED…) 

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On moving someplace better (part 9)(Vlog #50)

*** NOTES***

*Places can be like music, the way make one feel

*Some memories hurt to recall but still must be recalled anyway

*Nightmares of ex-girlfriend’s mother’s hatred for me

*Life & what we take from it as life continues…as we try to make ourselves better… & the memories that bask in us…

*Working at the liquor store I’d hear the song “Demons” by Imagine Dragons, which haunted me with bad memories of South Beach

*I started a lot of fights….how do I tell you about it without violating her privacy or mine? I was addicted to attention and compliments, I didn’t think I could help my negativity (and I didn’t try)so I was self negligent and maybe masochistic?

*I wanted my ex-gf to rebel against her parents the way I rebelled against mine….I hated almost anytime her parents/family was around and caused a bit of a scene once at how her parents could afford to eat at a nice restaurant

*That our relationship was going to end seemed hauntingly inevitable to me

*”Over My Head” by The Fray : another song that reminds me of South Beach and how I felt when I lived there

*I was closed to virtually all constructive criticism/useful suggestions people offered me

*I lacked the maturity to realize I should not have been in a romantic relationship at that time

*I thought myself a starving artist and wanted to be like Rimbaud & Baudelaire…two very depressing, pessimistic poets

“I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind…bad luck was my God”

-Arthur Rimbaud; “A Season in Hell”

On moving some place better (part 8) (Vlog #49)

***THE NOTES***

*Some of the philosophical questions related to choosing where to live (proximity to those we love, aesthetics, spiritual refreshment, et cetera…)

*This move to Basking Ridge feels like a chance for a “clean slate…” ; a bombardment of newness (new town, new roads, new condo, new desk, new neighbors, new geography, new economy, new internet provider, et cetera…)

*A gaffe….contradicting myself about why three moves to FL in a row amounted in disaster for me…

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Walt Whitman; Song of Myself, Part 51

*Montaigne’s sexism & cynicism…

*Another reason why I love Dostoevsky’s Notes From Underground

*My love for romantic love goes back to when I was about three and a half years old…by about 10/11 years old I grew obsessed with Grease and West Side Story— both of which impacted how I idealized “romantic love,” “love at first sight,” wanted to fall in love on the beach, processed contradictory examples of theoretical romantic love (how to explain my seemingly apolitical, otherwise Democrat by default father and my former, very Republican stepmother!?!)

*My superficial, mystical, irrational notion of romantic love

*Prior to the girlfriend I had at Florida Gulf Coast University/South Beach I never really had a “serious” relationship

*I didn’t tend to appreciate girls for who they were, mostly just how they made me -FEEL-… even the first girl I ever spent almost all my time with (though we did manage to connect in certain respects…example: both artistic…)

On moving some place better (part 6) (Vlog #45)

*THE NOTES

*Longest I’ve gone without shaving in a long time—> reminds me of bad times: my “fuck the system” phase, when I thought I was remaking my default sense of self which I hated inside & out

*The iconography/symbolism of artists & their ethos that propelled me into that “fuck the system” mentality

*The struggle to manage time when juggling a move some place & unexpected challenges that arise such as power outage or smoke alarms going off, et cetera…

*I believe everybody should have a dignified home of their own

*The first place I lived in South Beach was a hostel, roughly a block away from the beach, but I was too nihilistic to appreciate it

*A girl from Brazil compares me to Nietzsche

*Some of my worst memories though for a time there was no place I preferred to be

*My first autumn since preschool not in school/college