maybe i need to get a life

i'm obsessed. i'm not especially proud of it. you know, i was a well-rounded person at one point.

i'm in the uncharted territory of the olin library, working on this paper. it's comparing Robert Smithson's critical essay "Cultural Confinement" and his piece, Spiral Jetty, to one of my own favorite contemporary artists, Francis Alys. (I posted a video documentation of his performance piece, "When Faith Moves Mountains" earlier). the content is engaging, relevant, and i'm enjoying writing it, but it's 2 am and i think i may have slept a grand total of 12 hours last week.. why am i not in bed??

i know what this is. i've had it before. its when studio ends and it leaves this gaping void in my life, and now i'm compulsively filling it with theory. this is actually sick.

see this is what happens when you love. it consumes everything and as my studio friend aptly puts it, it makes you into this bizarre abstract of yourself. and its weird because then what happens is everything that happens outside of studio becomes hypothetical, unsubstantial. and nothing else is very real? (this is probably why i don't date) and i feel pigeonholed, displaced by my own design. why do i do this?

"In this sense, myth is not about the veneration of ideals--of pagan gods or political ideology--but rather an active interpretive practice performed by the audience, who must give the work its meaning and its social value. After all, isn't the story of modern and contemporary art and its cult of the object really just a myth of materialism, of matter as an ideal? For me, it is a refusal to acknowledge the transitory, a failure to see that art really exists, so to speak, in transit" francis alys