Every now and then, the utter, mind-numbing pointlessness of making pictures strikes me - repeatedly - across the noggin. It might be the price one pays for being born in a Lutheran society, which values music and gruesomely realistic/didactic writing, but is fairly blind, if not consciously opposed, to visual pleasures. "If your eye leads you into temptation, rip it out," as the Good Book says...But then I remember these encouraging, heart-warming words at the end of a Samuel Beckett novel (The Unnameable, I think):
"I can't go on. I'll go on."
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