Friday 2 October 1998

Well, it's October—a month that always looms big for me for some reason—just the name. It's like, different than all the other month names. The first letter, that big “O”—I always visualize as either a big orange pumpkin or the big orange full moon. It's a month I always remember has 31 days without doing any of those cute tricks.

Talk about cute tricks—Oh, I mean because Halloween is on the 31^st, of course. That was always our favorite holiday, where I grew up. Anyway, about cute tricks, I've been thinking—we celebrate our First Amendment and all, as we should, but it's definitely—our right to free speech—something that's constantly being defined. I think we're at a point now where about the only place you can get into trouble is with child pornography. But, the thing is, in the past, trouble and art have always gone really well together, hand in hand, even. Once it gets to the point where art is concentrating too much on “taboo breaking” it starts to be too contrived, and not born out of some kind of passion (except in some cases). What I'm saying is, there's just been a great history of putting things in code that is really fascinating, and adds a dimension to art that I think is lost when it's possible to be right up front with everything. Now, I'm not saying that is not a good thing that say a love story involving two men can be matter-of-factly what it—and then can get to further depth than when the whole thing has to be in code. But it's just that there's a certain elegance and mystery and exhilaration that comes from not being able to be forthright and upfront and honest. There's something exciting about trying to express something so dangerous that you can't be open about it, and have to veil the recognizable parts—because if you weren't you'd be held back by fear—but in the act of changing the names, changing the places, disguising one thing as another, you can feel more free to get to the depths of whatever it is that you are obsessed with.