Once in a while I read something that just sticks in my head. Here's the latest:
What strikes me is the fact that in our society, art has become something which is related only to objects and not to individuals, or to life. That art is something which is specialized or which is done by experts who are artists. But couldn't everyone's life become a work of art? Why should the lamp or the house be a work of art, but not our life?...For the idea that the self is not given us, I think that there is only one practical consequence: we have to create ourselves as a work of art. (Foucault, 1984)
WOW.
This makes me think of my friend Leeanne. She calls and leaves voicemail messages for me that are uncontrived and real and wise and funny. They are always unmistakably Leeanne. Sometimes they make me laugh out loud. Voicemail as performance art.
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