I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe* and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe* at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not until death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
This is my first entry in my new blog. I, Walt Whitman, great american poet, have begun my first year in the MFA program in Visual Arts at UC San Diego, and I am going to use this blog to record my thoughts and reflections on everything that I learn here. I hope you enjoy it.
* Observing one of my fellow first year students and new friend, Robert, I wonder if he has learned this lesson. In his critique the other night with Barbara Kruger's class, it was emphasized that he is very concerned with working hard, and spending lots of time on work. Robert, I think you ought to spend some more time loafing around. In a Zen and the Art of Archery sort of way, the surest way to hit your target may be to stop trying so hard to hit it. Don't be so willfull. There is no guarantee that more time working, or even harder, more concerted effort, is going to make for better art work. Think on that, Robert. And can I please have my pipe back?