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Living the Art 12: Art at the Event Horizon, by Randall Auxier

                                  Art at the Event Horizon by Randall Auxier I hear a new world is coming. I guess that’s always true, depending on the meaning of “new.” But this one is supposed to be, like, really really new –so different we can’t imagine it now. According to Ray Kurzweil, it’s about 29 years away, give…

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Living the Art 9: I Am Time, Destroyer of Worlds, by Randall Auxier

                       I Am Time, Destroyer of Worlds by Randall Auxier The air is electric. In moments the horrendous battle will begin. Our hero, the General Arjuna is hesitating. Something in him wants the battle, something else doesn’t. Krishna, the incarnate form of the Supreme God, appears and urges him to give the order. The discussion…

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Living the Art 8: Emptiness in Harmony, by Randall Auxier

                                          Emptiness in Harmony by Randall Auxier A Zen moment. Sometimes, unexpectedly, we see straight through the mundane and into the pure existence of the possibilities that surround it. Somehow, the moment vanishes and its pure being is just there, empty of all you thought it was, but full of nothing else. It isn’t exactly…

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Living the Art 7: But Is It Art? by Randall Auxier

                                        But Is It Art? by Randall Auxier It must be weird, for those who live to see it. Imagine you’re an artist and some work you created ends up in a museum, like, across from a Picasso. When Morley Safer interviewed Picasso,…

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Living the Art 6: Weaving a World, by Randall Auxier

                              Weaving a World By Randall Auxier Bob Dylan just won the Nobel Prize for literature. Folk music is hereby raised to fine art? Bosh. I think the division between fine art and “low” arts is artificial. Some of the best art I have ever seen (or heard or eaten) was made by people smugly…

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Living the Art 5: The Mayflower and the Moon, by Randall Auxier

                                       The Mayflower and the Moon by Randall Auxier In a wearied voice the singer confesses his need for some rest. His melody comes from a Bach chorale. But our singer, a notable presence in the great folk scare, probably heard the melody in a 1965 recording by some fellow New Yorkers. No one ever…