by Mark Ulyseas
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
– Arthur O’Shaughnessy,ODE (1873)
Artists…painters, writers, poets, playwrights…have now become one of the lost tribes. Scattered far and wide. They surface once in a while when destiny holds them to account for their absence. But in their absence from society the Fake artists, painters, writers, poets, playwrights etc. have run of the bars, festivals, galleries and theatres. The Fakes can easily be recognised by hair just so, attire that desperately seeks to be seen as individuality personified but really borders on the cloneish…and their work – anyone with a pen, brush or access to colour or camera becomes a Fake artist conjuring up just so images to entice those vultures that feed off cultures. Fake artists are now stuff of legends. Legends in their own minds.
The Fake factory of artists flourishes anywhere where tourists congregate. Like praying mantises, excuse me – preying mantises, they indulge in the game of hunting, hunting for the just so art connoisseur with the just so bank balance and just so social position – horizontal or vertical. The charades by these ‘dumbwaiters’ are entertaining for those that lack the artistic streak and are searching to append themselves to a ‘creator’ of all things ‘creative’ regardless of the authenticity. Looks are all that matters, like a fake Louis Vuitton bag.
Why have the Music Makers shrugged, like Atlas, the responsibility to feed the hungry masses of eager beavers in oestrus? Why are they missing in action when they are needed to be present to raise high the mantle of the Self against the tsunami of Fake artists?
Perhaps the scattering of the Music Makers was the intention of Mother Nature to prevent contamination of this rare species and to maintain the anonymity (like Bansky) of the Self so that purity of art remains. For in this purity the power to create words and images will continue to grow. Maybe one day this power will be unleashed with devastating effect on humanity.
Art in any form is a creation by a human being celebrating the metaphysical in the physical world, and not dressed up like a whore waiting on the street for customers.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om
© Mark Ulyseas