Between Madness and Sanity


Today was free museum day in Austin, so I got to go and explore the Blanton Museum of Art for the easy price of a $3.00 parking pass. The featured artist is Francisco Matto, an exhibit tagged "The Modern and the Mythic." Being an avid fan of symbolism, I enjoyed his paintings and totem-pole type sculptures that incorporated a variety of symbols from all cultures across the hemispheres - including nautilus shells, Jesus fish, male and female symbols, etc. There were also very fauvist looking pieces with large areas of solid color and thick brush strokes that the placards described as the artists attempts to find the mystery in everyday objects - objects that seemed to include disjointed teacups, bulbous vases, and close-ups of cookie jars. Perhaps viewing them stirred the mysteries of my subconscious mind. I don't know yet.

It was interesting to then come home and find a large piece in the New York Times about Carl Jung's unpublished work, The Red Book. I've had Man and His Symbols close at hand since I found a hardcover full color copy at the Dickson Street Bookstore my senior year of high school while taking AP Psychology. On a side note - I loved that store and one of my favorite memories involves myself and one of my favorite friends - Mr. Moon - sitting in the cramped aisle of the poetry section, the floor to ceiling shelves creating a secret haven (or at least it felt that way) for us, reading Rilke from collections with yellow, worn pages while it rained and rained and rained outside. I have a handful of similar recollections, and they are sacred to me, as trite as they may seem. Days like that are, in my memory, strung together to create consecutive hours of book reading, eating ice cream in the gazebo of the mossed over Confederate cemetery, to marathon viewings of Ingbar Bergman films because Michael had a book that said every film buff should know his stuff, to waking up early in the morning to go sit on the patio at the Arsega's Block Street bakery drinking coffee and eating cinnamon rolls as big as my face.


the only scanned picture I have - I think I've posted it before, but oh well.

Off my tangent now - I can't wait to read The Red Book. Especially since I've begun reading Sidra Stone and started to try and process the influences I have collected the past 25 years that exert sway over my actions and decisions. I want to make sure that the decisions I make and the feelings I feel are my own, and often I have this uncomfortable feeling that what I feel has been given to me, and I am only acting out of a sense of duty or obligation. I plan on writing more about this when I finish a few more books I have on my list.

The universe just seemed to line up for me today in regards to sending Matto and Jung in my direction on the same afternoon. Sometimes I feel like a soda can shaken up. Not a graceful image, but fitting. I don't want to be afraid of explosions.



"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
Carl Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections



Change my mind, help me to try, I'm afraid I'm not satisfied. In this state I shall not remain - I don't want to go, but if I die young, fill my empty room with the sun.