Unfortunately even the most gracious and powerful muse can’t choose what unknown, obscure and strange artist to inspire, that’s why art is a painful tragedy.
Carl William Brown
How can it be that when I wake up in the morning I often think of my first ideal adolescent
impossible love and I still remember vividly that gentle little blonde girl of thirty five years ago?
Carl William Brown
The only ideal muse to act as such must exclusively be in the artist’s mind, therefore she isn’t a real person, she can’t be responsible for the art sake, she does exist, but unfortunately (for the artist) she is dead (that’s the tragedy). She is a thought, a remembrance very far away both in time and in space, but always towering and exciting the artist’s brain, she is a painful figure who can nourish the artist sorrowful soul and creative spiritual desires.
Carl William Brown
Art refers to something that desires to be, it could be, perhaps it should be, perchance it will be, but for the time being it hasn’t been yet. Carl William Brown
From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach…..
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ’twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be…..
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone; and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom’s door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.