Scrap # 1. Resistance
As you probably know by now, as a "living life in the footnotes" kind of girlie—I’m reading a few books at the same time. Plus a few newsletters. Plus, scrolling. Plus saving links I probably won’t open again.
At first, I thought this is how my curious brain likes to work. But lately, I’ve started to suspect it’s also a form of procrastination. I also read something about it, of course :)
And then I ran into this quote in one of the books I'm reading:
The War of Art by Steven Pressfield
Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles
“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.”
Mr. Pressfield paints Resistance as the most toxic force on the planet. To make his point, he uses a chilling example: Hitler. Hitler wanted to be an artist. He applied to the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna and didn’t pass the entrance exam. Instead of trying again, he turned his energy elsewhere. Pressfield writes:
“Call it overstatement, but I will say it anyways: it was easier for Hitler to start World War II than it was for him to face a blank square of canvas.”
That kind of strikes you, doesn’t it?
So now I’m wondering maybe All my over-reading and note-taking and thought-curating (or hoarding, haha) is just a Resistance in a high-end costume. Not wrong. But not really right either.
Scrap #2: Chaos and Mindfulness
Here’s something else I’ve been scribbling about, sparked by another book I’ve been casually swimming through: Looking at Mindfulness
Twenty-Five Paintings to Change the Way You Live, by Christophe André
Old art—especially from the Dutch Golden Age—used to center the ordinary. Women sewing. A bowl of fruit. Men drinking coffee.
Take Vermeer’s The Milkmaid, for example: a woman quietly pouring milk into a bowl. Nothing dramatic is happening —and that’s exactly the point. Just noticing “the invisible” as Christophe André says, the ordinary.
I see that same instinct now (maybe not in trends anymore) in flat lay photographs. The perfectly scattered notebook, a cappuccino, maybe a little flower or fruit in the corner, or an Eva Chen pose. We’re still staging stillness. Or at least we try to.
I’ve noticed that some of the most vividly expressive people—the ones I know full of color and energy —have these perfectly curated, serene Instagram feeds. It makes me wonder: Who are these people, really? When are they really themselves?
But does it matter?
We’re all just trying to arrange our chaos into something that looks like peace. Hell isn’t other people.
And art, in all its forms, has never been about decorating the noise—
it’s always been about guiding you quietly back to yourself.
Scrap #3: The Bittersweet Internet
Lastly, how did I just now discover Louis Pisano? Here is a link to his Substack: https://substack.com/@louispisano
Please read and subscribe to whatever Louis writes. I have not had such a bittersweet laugh since I first discovered David Sedaris.
Thank you!
Footnote to self:
Maybe I am not procrastinating. Maybe it is exactly what I am doing here: doing my own curating. Gathering intangible memorabilia—
letting all the scraps collect until something quiet and meaningful takes shape.