L’INDIFFERENCE D’OISEAUX / THE INDIFFERENCE OF BIRDS XI

l'indifférence d'oiseaux

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I conclude this series with a word of appreciation for the artist who made his art available while choosing to remain anonymous. This appreciation could not be better expressed than by speaking of the beauty of his art. It has moved me profoundly, and I can think of no greater praise than that.
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There is so much than can be said of this “doodle”—its compositional and meaningful integrity, the subtleties in the presentation of its components, and so much more that is well beyond my reach. However, I will focus on just one small thing—something that I learned from my own brief excursion into doodling. And this is the unspeakable beauty of an honest line (which, alas, I seldom realized). One single line can be a consummate artistic expression.
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An honest line is one that happens. It shows no hesitation. It happens as the spontaneous expression of a deeply cultivated dao. It is the circle made without compasses; the straight line made without a straight-edge. It is the dismembering of an ox as if performing a sacred dance.
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Though this work is doubtless full of such lines, the ones that leave me in awe here are those that form the bubble-head of Hope. They are not drawn; they happen. To them I could burn incense. Words cannot reach them.
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If art is a message, then let us say together with King Hui, “From my lowly cook, I have learned how to nourish life!” The cultivated spontaneity of art is emblematic of the possibility of cultivating the spontaneity of life.

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