Right now, I'm trying to make as many as possible of my dA favorites fit into a few new categories that I made. But after just two pages of sorting, I come to the realization that this just doesn't work. Every new artwork breaks the rules in a new way. And then I came to realize that I've got the same problem with my blogs (including these journals here): to improve them and make them more attractive, I try to define a set world, a set subject, and then write inside that world. But soon after, I find the need to write somewhere else, because I get ideas that are outside of that world. Mayhap I just have a hard time disciplining the mind, but part of me tells me this is how it's supposed to be.

Because we can never come around to make a logical system out of the mind and soul. We can never make a just categorical overview of all our emotions. Why not? Because a view demands a perspective, and each and every individual emotion -- even two seperate occasions of the same emotion -- is a perspective in and of itself! Unless, of course, you do the scientific approach, but then you lose track of _all_ emotions before you even started. We're talking art here, and by God and/or all heavenly creatures of comparable might and grandeur, I swear I'd sooner eat my deceased great grandmother's underwear than see art depend on scientific methods! So clearly, what I'm trying to say is that there's no use getting clever about art. Which is why I always get vague instead.

I see it like this: any complex emotion opens up a whole new world, a new room in the house of art that has never been opened before. Then, when offered to the agents of creativity, this world can be copied, straightened and expanded, based on the principles that came through the emotion. And here lurk dangers, because some of these agents double as scientists. This can lead to mundane fantasy realms, emotionless musical masterpieces and images where composition killed the content. Perhaps it's just because I envy others' talents of creativity, but mostly I see the stage of creation as a limitation of the emotion that we'd like to have made real.

Another phenomenon, if you will, is inspirational stagnation. If you're acquainted with the band Dragonforce, you might already get the picture: they seem to have had one good inspiration long ago, but since then that same emotion has been processed over and over for just too long, though the setting appears to be different each time. That's what can happen if you suddenly find "IT" and think you've got art all nailed down. All of a sudden, everything fits in and makes sense. But art as a whole was never intended to make sense to art as a whole. Once you've managed to get specific with an artwork, you've come a long way. Often, the more specific you can get, the better the art. But if you ever want to make a new artwork that's not just an iteration of the old one, then you have to get unspecific before you get specific somewhere else! At least, that seems to make sense to me right now. Which means it can't possibly be right, but if I'm lucky, then it's at least a little bit right.