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May 07, 2007
The Blood of the Artist
I have the aspirations of my ancestors of the avant-garde, their distaste for authority and their belief in the anarchist ideal. I find my intentions as vigilant as theirs. Only I don't butter my hair. The Futurists were the most feverish flayers of aesthetic barbarians and scorchers of the anachronistic of their time. From them too: a break from the horrible shell of reality and love of sacrilege, oh! All the vices, anger, yearnings, magnificent - above all, giving myself utterly to the unknown.
Posted by the Secretary-at-Large at May 7, 2007 11:09 AM