Every leaf I rake, every bite I take, every moment at a stop light, is one less word I write. Few today will care, but someone will tomorrow. I don’t know them, but they will know me very well. I am writing to them every day.
I suppose we all must rake and eat and wait. Perhaps it’s the very act of dividing what little time we have that makes each bit so important.
We often pride ourselves on an egalitarian sensibility by which art is a product for and by common people, having abandoned a patronage system for education and technology (the printing press, radio, TV, the Internet).
Unfortunately, for all that offers, art is still an expression of those that have the time and opportunity, which translates in some measure to wealth and privilege.
There are many exceptions, but the stifling reality of entire classes subjugated by economies of status remains with us.
[2013-11-09]
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