raw material - by Nix 🕊 - starting from nix

London today: shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers on the train on the way to Tate Modern. I finish reading East of Eden lying on the grass outside. Some parts of it make me want to cry. In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted shortcuts to love. The Expressionist exhibition was beautiful. That’s not even close to the right word to describe it. The paintings feel uninhibited, full of fervor, longing, and devotion. Macke, Kandinsky, Bossi, Münter, Werefkin. You can tell when something is made with a certain yearning. It spills through the artwork. It carries a compelling magnetism, an internal fire. I’ve read books like this, seen paintings like this, even met people like this. Something pulls on you like an invisible force. Everything that comes to us is raw material, but nothing escapes transfiguration.... I don't think I ever confessed to you, or did I? Maybe that's t

London today: shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers on the train on the way to Tate Modern. I finish reading East of Eden lying on the grass outside. Some parts of it make me want to cry. In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted shortcuts to love. The Expressionist exhibition was beautiful. That’s not even close to the right word to describe it. The paintings feel uninhibited, full of fervor, longing, and devotion. Macke, Kandinsky, Bossi, Münter, Werefkin. You can tell when som