I am a firm believer in the importance of change. This change can come and present itself to you in a variety of different forms, but it is the change that awakens something that is deep inside of you, and when it happens, you must embrace it. Nevertheless, a routine is a hard wall to crack, although some routines are easier to escape, generally we find the letting go of difficult situations the hardest. This is specifically apparent when dealing with relationships that come with a backlog of history. Letting go of people almost always feels like you’re waving goodbye to all the fond memories and history that you had with that person, but the change that comes is inevitable, and if not embraced; prepare yourself for regret.
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.
Beings of vast emotions and intellect, subjectively judging our actions and reactions with others, we all too often forget, that although we say goodbye, and our lives change, we are in fact, all the same. Up until recently I have never had the pleasure of feeling one with all mankind. Nevertheless I had experienced it during my acid trip around 7 years ago where much to my dissatisfaction, I had arrived at the end of time. But, it was thanks to Werner Herzog who introduced me to some of the simplest, yet profound paintings to have ever been depicted, anywhere in human history, then all that, changed. My relationship with art is a somewhat complicated love affair (as you may have read in a previous blog The Art of Deception) most works of art don’t mean anything to me, mostly due to their vulgar capitalistic functionality and utter pointlessness, which of course is as far from art as you could ever get. The paintings that Werner showed me, were crude, basic and of various extinct animals. When looking upon these paintings with such a base approach, that is what you get. Some were no better than a child’s, that you expect to find hanging by a fridge magnet. Unfortunately some people will see just that. It is this lack of blindness to complete wonderment that people like you, and I, should rejoice. We don’t just see a few animals, We see ourselves, and the universe.
In a forbidden recess of the cave, there’s a footprint of an eight-year-old boy next to the footprint of a wolf. Did a hungry wolf stalk the boy? Or did they walk together as friends? Or were their tracks made thousands of years apart? We’ll never know. Werner Herzog
In 1994, a group of scientists discovered a cave in Southern France perfectly preserved for over 20,000 years and containing the earliest known human paintings. Knowing the cultural significance that the Chauvet Cave holds, the French government immediately cut-off all access to it, save a few archaeologists and paleontologists. But documentary filmmaker, Werner Herzog, was given limited access. The Cave Of Forgotten Dreams introduced me to an array of different emotions. I long to visit the caves in southern France and sadly know that due to the importance of them, I never will have that chance. Nevertheless, thanks to Werner’s film I feel as though I have been there. The film itself, successfully builds a bridge between us and them, the artists. Never in all my life have I watched a film and had it move me so much. Not for love or relationships lost and won, but for the reason that we all need to embrace, that we are in fact all connected, and no matter how much we change and grow apart from one another, we will always have this profound connection, that will stand the test of time.