Beauty is what I want to explore, and nothing more, nothing less. If you find no substance behind the style, then that is the point. No effort will be wasted in an attempt to say something, in an attempt be poignant. I will say nothing new.
It would be as if you were gazing at a pond at midnight, under the light of a full moon, and if you were to look down, then you’d see your reflection. The reflection of the trees, the shimmering light of the moon. You would not see the bottom, for there is no depth in mirrors.
But I will say that the beauty I present will not be limited to the traditional sense. Beauty in the sense of sunsets, a woman or her delightful voice, the fall foliage under the rays of a dying sun, a master pianist playing Ravel, or the morning after an ice storm with glittering trees and soft snow covering the landscape. After all, the master may have broken his spirit, his body, to play such pretty music. How many hours lost in the pursuit of perfection? Hours that could have spent staring at sunsets or laughing with family. And the storm surely has caused destruction. And the most beautiful sunsets occur after thunderstorms.
I will not go as far as to say there is a certain sort of beauty in ugliness. The cold, windy, grey days of November with barren trees or March with blackened and muddy snow are ugly. The innards of the magnificent lion with his great regal mane, or the innards that he eats, are ugly, grotesque, disgusting.
As I have alluded to, the true appreciation of beauty must come with the experience and understanding of the obscene. To know what is crude, base, and vile. With these contrasts highlighted, what then? An almost bittersweet taste in your mind? Or does the beauty become triumphant?
However, do not take that to mean that beauty is always the result of a corruption, desecration, or destruction. The pure, innocent child is not beautiful because there exist wicked men. Saints do not become so because of the existence of evil, no. Saints and children are, they do not become.
And as you might have assumed, I do not mean beauty to just mean visuals. Morals and virtues, character, displays of strong emotion and feelings, those, too, have beauty.
As I said, I have no desire to say anything. I will not explain anything. And I have no desire to make myself apparent in any of my works. I do not want my characters to be explicitly me. In some circles, that is popular to do, and it is popular to assume. That the writer is apparent within or that the writer is modeling characters after their personality. I, however, desire to disappear, and that the characters are constructs not projections. That they are archetypes that exist outside of me, they have independence. For me to be as formless and shapeless as water. It would be as if I’m an actor disappearing into his role.
And that is all that I will say. Analyze my works at your peril.