What I believe by J.g ballard

I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.

I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash, in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks, in the poetry of abandoned hotels.

I believe in the forgotten runways of Wake Island, pointing towards the Pacifics of our imaginations.

I believe in the mysterious beauty of Margaret Thatcher, in the arch of her nostrils and the sheen on her lower lip; in the melancholy of wounded Argentine conscripts; in the haunted smiles of filling station personnel; in my dream of Margaret Thatcher caressed by that young Argentine soldier in a forgotten motel watched by a tubercular filling station attendant.

I believe in the beauty of all women, in the treachery of their imaginations, so close to my heart; in the junction of their disenchanted bodies with the enchanted chromium rails of supermarket counters; in their warm tolerance of my perversions.

I believe in the death of tomorrow, in the exhaustion of time, in our search for a new time within the smiles of auto-route waitresses and the tired eyes of air-traffic controllers at out-of-season airports.

I believe in the genital organs of great men and women, in the body postures of Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and Princess Di, in the sweet odors emanating from their lips as they regard the cameras of the entire world.

I believe in madness, in the truth of the inexplicable, in the common sense of stones, in the lunacy of flowers, in the disease stored up for the human race by the Apollo astronauts.

I believe in nothing.

I believe in Max Ernst, Delvaux, Dali, Titian, Goya, Leonardo, Vermeer, Chirico, Magritte, Redon, Duerer, Tanguy, the Facteur Cheval, the Watts Towers, Boecklin, Francis Bacon, and all the invisible artists within the psychiatric institutions of the planet.

I believe in the impossibility of existence, in the humor of mountains, in the absurdity of electromagnetism, in the farce of geometry, in the cruelty of arithmetic, in the murderous intent of logic.

I believe in adolescent women, in their corruption by their own leg stances, in the purity of their disheveled bodies, in the traces of their pudenda left in the bathrooms of shabby motels.

I believe in flight, in the beauty of the wing, and in the beauty of everything that has ever flown, in the stone thrown by a small child that carries with it the wisdom of statesmen and midwives.

I believe in the gentleness of the surgeon’s knife, in the limitless geometry of the cinema screen, in the hidden universe within supermarkets, in the loneliness of the sun, in the garrulousness of planets, in the repetitiveness or ourselves, in the inexistence of the universe and the boredom of the atom.

I believe in the light cast by video-recorders in department store windows, in the messianic insights of the radiator grilles of showroom automobiles, in the elegance of the oil stains on the engine nacelles of 747s parked on airport tarmacs.

I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.

I believe in the derangement of the senses: in Rimbaud, William Burroughs, Huysmans, Genet, Celine, Swift, Defoe, Carroll, Coleridge, Kafka.

I believe in the designers of the Pyramids, the Empire State Building, the Berlin Fuehrerbunker, the Wake Island runways.

I believe in the body odors of Princess Di.

I believe in the next five minutes.

I believe in the history of my feet.

I believe in migraines, the boredom of afternoons, the fear of calendars, the treachery of clocks.

I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.

I believe in the perversions, in the infatuations with trees, princesses, prime ministers, derelict filling stations (more beautiful than the Taj Mahal), clouds and birds.

I believe in the death of the emotions and the triumph of the imagination.

I believe in Tokyo, Benidorm, La Grande Motte, Wake Island, Eniwetok, Dealey Plaza.

I believe in alcoholism, venereal disease, fever and exhaustion. I believe in pain. I believe in despair. I believe in all children.

I believe in maps, diagrams, codes, chess-games, puzzles, airline timetables, airport indicator signs. I believe all excuses.

I believe all reasons.

I believe all hallucinations.

I believe all anger.

I believe all mythologies, memories, lies, fantasies, evasions.

I believe in the mystery and melancholy of a hand, in the kindness of trees, in the wisdom of light.”

Be Who You Are and Say What You Feel Because Those Who Mind Don’t Matter and Those Who Matter Don’t Mind.

A quote by Dr Seuss and a  late night post..

I don’t even want to tell you what time is it ha! .. these days I’ve had such a hard time sleeping.. for some reason the nights are longer  and I find myself awake when the sun is rising.. problem is I cant sleep until noon…So I look like a raccoon during the day

I go round and round..about many things.. I don’t know if this ever happens to you, you think about your problems, your life, what to do, what’s coming, or sometimes when you are really really excited about something you can’t sleep either..

Point is I can’t sleep… last night I got up at midnight to start a pendant , 2 hours later it was done.. and so was I .

These last 2 weeks I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I want then the other day found this quote online..

“I really think it’s important to be in a situation, both in art and in life, where you don’t understand what is going on.” ~John Cage

Right now I don’t know what’s going on.. I feel things are expected from me.. in the sense that for me to grow I have to do more than what I am doing.. I didn’t go to the design fair because of the trip and because I felt pressured.. I don’t like being pressured , some people mention my work should be outside in a REAL store.. all these things that I don’t see myself doing

An online business is kind of like being in a spotlight.. everyone can see what you do and don’t do and it’s a part of it.. I like people really seeing who I am , where I am coming from.. people I adore and also people who judge

There is one thing.. I am the kind of person that could care less about many things.. you can come to my house and talk away about what’s missing, you can mess with me and anything about me.. but when someone messes with what I do I feel weak and try not to get teary eyed..

I’m very sensitive with it..because it was really hard getting here

I don’t see myself like an artist, I have a very small group of friends , I don’t go out much but when I go out I go out all night,  I sometimes sit on my bench and have no idea what to do, the term designer is used too much every were and I don’t see myself as claiming to be a magnificent designer .. when I really think we all have it inside us.. You see where I’m going with this?

I feel blessed that’s it and when the world pushes you to pretend you are something you are not .. it’s complicated..

And I get quite confused…

One day I had this guy asking me what kind of jewelry I made..”contemporary?? ” .. I said I made whatever comes from the top of my head ..

He of course gave me the face that said ” You are not a professional” …

I once got told I have a “hippie approach” with my descriptions for each piece  being wayyyy too long bla bla

people.

I mean sorry If I don’t act like a princess, like a designer, if I don’t speak in a professional way, if I can’t present a piece..

I feel better just by writing this and letting it all out and I am going to bed as soon as this is published

I’ll keep my current  rhythm, doing what I do and specially ignoring everything around me that can somehow hurt me and wait for this to pass…

The Magesty of simplicity .. and people using others as covers because they can’t be themselves

Simple things often turn so hard to achieve..

I don’t know, I’m not sure if I am doing things right sometimes but I just go towars what feels right.. and what feels right to me is to do things as simple as possible..

I am not talking work wise.. I am talking in my life, the person that I am I like to keep things basic.. everything I don’t dream of being rich and spending all my money, I don’t dream of becoming the ultimate jeweler designer and have galleries and reviews in magazines..

Sorry If I seem plain and dumb ..but i guess I could be plain and dumb but happy .. I want to have a house, live alone make jewelry all day , run the normal errands , go for walks with tango, go to the beach when i feel tired , look at the sun and eat gigant cookies..

There’s such beauty to listen to a song , to look at people walking by .. it makes me feel I don’t need more..( YES , you can think i’m a hippie dumbass but not quite..passed that stage already and now i don’t have anything to prove , don’t judge by the long hair )

Here’s the thing I am a bit weird in the sense that I like my balance and I like all these things that well are there available to all of us ,the so called  simple pleasures..

But when something comes along that breaks this peace , this balance this tranquility it kills me and I get so stressed and down.. it’s silly when I am stressed I can’t do anything. I am blank .. like someone unplugged me I just want to take naps..

Ladies and gents I must tell you what happened to me.. why this talk , why this topic?

Someone sent me a link and said I should look at that.. and I found a lady online using my site.. saying that she had a jewelry business.. with my site.. To what point should we share our lives online ?

How sad and pathetic is to have to use someone else to draw attention to yourself? are you not good enough?

I felt bad.. then mad .. now I’m blank .. I reported the whole thing and first I though I’m gonna talk to her.. but is useless..

I wish I could scream this outloud: What is wrong with being ourselves? We are individuals and that;s the magic of it ..

Why copy, use , claim something is not yours? I don’t see how that would make anybody feel good using somebody else as a cover.. it would only make you more depressing , we all have it inside us, the ability to be original to create ..

I don’t get it …

It’s in there, look for it you could work anywere , live in any town , have nothing or have a lot but still you are you and nothing is gonna change that..

I am done with the topic..makes me sad in a deep level to be used like that..what am i ?  And if you , you know who you are ever get to read this know that behind a website , an online image there is a person that lives day by day .. using the pictures the , the site MY WORK is using me ..

An yes I am very sensitive with this things , to me it is a big deal 

Hope you have a good sunday .. today I am not doing anything I am letting my brain rest and stop thinking for a while ..

The very stressed,

Nat