What is worse than mad art? Bad art I suppose? Or philosophical art with words? I feel ambivalent about this work in progress which I have returned to for a calm frenzy of activity this morning. Presuming to depict the evolution of the spirit – and its scariest undertaking : to deny what it once held to be truth, and to seize the right to new values, a new form of life. I was up early and just tipped into it – I had been going to work on my latest ebook – working title ‘A Meditation on a Stone – How a Platonist made peace with Matter.’ This is ‘The Three Metamorphoses of the Spirit’, first draft of all three triptychs… Apologies to C.S. Lewis and his wardrobe. So, here is a sort of eight-foot-high crazy wardrobe of philosophy, part of my loosely titled series ‘Zarathustra’s Blackboard.’ It stands on legs (only partly visible).
TO BE CONTINUED…. I may depict the Child and probably the ‘self-propelling wheel’; any suggestions? This last phase of the spirit when the Child is described, always moves me, sometimes to tears, as I commented today on the channel of a tattooed young philosopher reading the whole chapter in Thus Spoke Zarathustra entitled ‘The Three Metamorphoses of the Spirit.’ See her reading it here:
or the link: