Anything that begins with a pretense of coherence is plainly stupid.
DIRECTOR OF CASTING: I have but one request. Bring me someone that is riddled with humanity, someone who does not dissolve into what voyeuristic beauty is made of.
ASSISTANT: Why?
D: So that a connoisseur of moving portraiture is not taken with her.
A: And by that you mean?
D: The true artist lives with the axiom that emotional is irrational, but the realist- he who sees with eyes that perceive the corporeal and not the ethereal, he who does not embellish by way of remembering a nonexistent trick of the light of an emboldening of a contour by an imaginary lens’ focus, he who is not accustomed to music, or the finer languages, he whose sentences do not fade, but are cut- sees that there are aspects to a human being that are irrelevant to emotion but that are nevertheless irrational. People, when they lose their life- are lifeless, empty- are not shallow portraits, but a lightless portion of white noise. Riddled with humanity. There are things not tainted with the intensity of emotion, but rather with the blandness of disinterest. Things that do not have the adornments of the organization that artists build from a lack of structure. That is what I mean. Bring me someone riddled with humanity.
