The Arts, not Old Farts

by Richard Oxman

> “If tomorrow we were to bring about that ‘One World’ which our benighted politicians dread so much, my choice of the leader to guide it would be Picasso. I would vote for him even if he were in his dotage. Certainly, at his worst Picasso could not make more of a mess of it than the humbugs who today regard themselves as the leaders of the world. Thus far we have never had an artist at the helm. Until we do, this sad and weary world of ours will never be anything more than the ass-hole of creation, Plato to the contrary.” — Henry Miller, 1966

When my long electro-shocked mother babbled on about “old farts,” criticizing the local politicians, PTA and putzes nationwide, I saw past her limitations…and absorbed the clarity of her very troubled mind.

Big Pharma and the family doctor, among others, all contributed to her downfall. And they couldn’t have done it without the very well-intentioned ignorance of my father.

But let’s not cry over spilled, one-of-a-kind mother’s milk of kindness. Or all of the authority figures gone awry. Nor try to rectify within the parameters allowed.

Let’s simply note that to vote, *and even violate this or that law* confined to the confines of so-called civilized behavior, is to incarcerate our Holy Spirit. And here I am not speaking of the HS or BS of traditional religion.

At one juncture, about the time of the first issue of *Minotaure* (in the European thirties), the Surrealists were faced with the alternatives of either going out into the streets with a revolver in their hands or…returning home to art. Breton and Eluard, among others, chose the latter.

I think it’s time to climb that ladder. Alone, without all this mini-Minotaur shit about solidarity.

That is, until we can resurrect alleged partner-beater Picasso for elective office.

Richard Oxman is hanging on a rung of the ladder by one thumb. His other hand has been trying his hand at writing ’round