I never considered for a minute that I had talent,” he wrote in 1994. ”What I did have was divine inspiration and an open subconscious. — John Fahey, according to his NYT obit from 2001.
"Back in the day, Walter would, every once in a while, forget how to draw. Remember?" Louise said.
“Oh yeah,” Walter agreed. “That still happens occasionally. It’s like, ‘Oh my god, nothing I’m drawing looks any good anymore. My life is over as an artist.’ And what I realized, because I was an editor at the time, and had seen a lot of work go past me, was that when you hit this phase where suddenly your stuff, which looks just like it did yesterday, doesn’t look good to you anymore, it’s because your mind has made a leap. Your brain has gotten farther than your hand has learned to do it yet. But eventually, give it a few weeks, keep it up and you’ve made a leap in your own craft. That was a big help because it was so depressing when you realize you couldn’t draw anymore.” —
From an interview with Walt and Louise Simonson. (via twiststreet)
Wow. Well, there’s one game-changing thought technology.
They are… like… a god to me.
It has taken (literally) months of effort, but now there is a structure. Months of notes, months of abortive false starts, months of flailing around in mind mapping programs trying to force structure onto something wild, something that was running away from me almost as fast as I was catching up to it. Now there is work to do.
This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body… . — Walt Whitman’s introduction to Leaves of Grass