In Defence of Artistic Freedom
27 December 2014
Dedicated to the legacy of Jacques Derrida (1930 - 2004)
This entry was originally to have been dedicated to recounting the terrifying experience of Running the Gauntlet of the Killer Pigs, but that will have to wait. Something far more important has turned up.
It seems that, in certain quarters, doubt has been expressed as to the veracity and reliability of these incisive insights into the absurdity of the human condition. Indeed, there is a growing groundswell of opinion that accuses this august chronicle of exaggeration and even downright fabrication. Such mendacity, such an unfounded and vile calumny, cannot be permitted to go unchallenged.
Such criticisms display a lamentable misunderstanding and ignorance of the artistic/creative process. The critics fail to appreciate the self-evident fact that artistes, such as myself, possess a deeper understanding of the underlying truths of existence than do most mere mortals. From this it obviously follows that it would be patently absurd to expect such rarefied intellects to follow the rules of argument and discourse that are rightly applied to the common herd.
In recognition of our finer discrimination and sensitivities we cannot, we must not, be held to such base and artistically restrictive concepts as factual accuracy, personal responsibility and fair representation. To be held so accountable would merely serve to stifle the creative process and in so doing deprive the world at large of the benefits that our selfless and intellectually exhausting efforts bestow upon it.
It is immediately apparent to any developed intellect that such accusations do not warrant even a superficial rebuttal, but for the sake of the Hoi Polloi, let me explain how the postmodernist intellectuo-creative process works:
In the first place, The Creative Genius identifies a universal concept that has remained inexplicably unnoticed by the rest of humanity over all the preceding millennia. It is perfectly permissible for this process to be assisted by psychoactive substances - remember the normal rules do not apply to the likes of us. He (or, I concede, occasionally she) is then confronted with the Herculean task of attempting to communicate this delicate and fragile abstraction to other members of the charmed circle of intellectuals and, if such be feasible, to the common man, albeit in a coarse and debased form.
Obviously, it would be impossible for a straightforward explanation in simple English (or even German or Classical Greek) to convey such subtlety and perception. Instead, it must be dressed in neologisms, metaphor and allegory so as to become clear to the refined intellect. It goes without saying that such a higher purpose justifies the use of whatever tactics The Artist deems necessary. Rather than such crude terms as falsehoods or even (as has been scurrilously suggested) downright bloody lies, I prefer to describe these tactics as verifomodificatory embellishment.
I freely admit that such embellishment has frequently been employed in this serial magnum opus. Events separated in time and place have been conflated so as to clarify and reinforce the thrust of the underpinning argument. I have, on occasions, taken the liberty of modifying quotations so as to universalise their meaning and more accurately reflect what the speaker should have said, but unfortunately lacked the intellectual capacity to express as clearly as one would desire. In addition, I confess that, on occasions, events have not transpired as theory dictates they should have. In such cases, I would argue, it was necessary, as well as an artistic and philosophical obligation, to modify the record so as to better describe the underlying deconstructionist philosopho-scientific narrative.
All of these, I submit, are justified in the name of purity of thought and the pursuit of higher truths.
I consign my reputation to the judgement of Posterity.
Pass the absinthe.