Standing, looking out at the sea and the sky, coffee in hand, cool stone beneath my feet, beads of sweat forming into rivulets on my brow as the early sun already heats the air, I am thinking about nothing, which is impossible, if you think about it. I am pondering the impossibility of zero, empty, pure space, no energy, no consciousness. Science tells us, if my memory of school physics is correct, that there is an absolute zero in temperature. Minus 273 degrees centigrade. But, of course, there are temperatures below that as well, should there be the means to discover them. Standing here, what if there was nothing, nix, nihil, no-where, no time? Well, I guess I wouldn’t be standing, for a start. And if there was no consciousness, I could not observe it anyway. So, I have to come to the conclusion that nothing does not and cannot exist. Its very existence would negate the proposition. The question then becomes: how can I approach my art with a beginner’s mind? If I think about it, it’s a preposterous idea born out of a god-like arrogance. Where, therefore, can I start, if I don’t want to copy, emulate or simply learn a technique and churn out variations on a theme? Even the greatest artists did that a lot, as their journey, which may have become their gravy train. So, where is my beginning and where is my end?
Something and nothing