by Kylie Mugleston
Enjoyer of beer, women, etc.
First off, I’d like to give thanks to the Busceme family, and The Art Studio, for allowing me to have my thoughts heard.
Secondly, thank you for reading.
We’ve arrived at one of the most exciting times in our lives – truly, I believe that we are on the cusp of a cultural renaissance unseen in our country since the ‘60s. Perhaps, even greater.
There’s been a strange energy lurking behind the eyes of everyone I see. It feels like we’re on the verge of a great frenzy, a mania-fueled, all-out-no-holding-back rage. I can see it back there, on the tips of everyone’s tongues, all of us just dying to say it, but what is it? What are we all waiting for, so that we can give in? So we may become one with the mob, let ourselves be taken over as humans are likely meant to be: driven by something greater than ourselves.
Soon, as well as our cultural and social revolution, I suspect we will live in a time of scarcity unseen since the Great Depression. It will not consist of the same insufficiencies – in fact, in ways, I believe ours will be disastrously worse while still maintaining the deception of bounty. Right before our eyes, our own reality is being taken from us. With tariffs will come a loss of food and goods, but at least in 1929 they were still granted the sinful luxury of reality.
The artists were still offered the opulence of having a contribution to this singular plane of material existence. Those who left their apartment windows open to hear a saxophone from a block away at least were allowed the grandeur of receiving music made by Man, simply because it is What Man Does. Writers and performers, at least, were never questioned as necessities to the human experience – at least, they had such splendor. At least, they were real.
I believe this horizon we seem to be porting at may be the Great Singularity, and those lab rats have simply misinterpreted the whole ordeal. Or, perhaps, they forgot to include a rather conspicuous variable – The Will of Man.
We, as animals, have survived through great scarcity on one singular trait: Creativity.
Through this creativity comes all other thoughts. We’ve grown, as a species, to ignore (or, perhaps, fail to recognize) these thoughts for their source. Inside every Man is a desperate need to create, for it is as deep rooted in our survival as food and water, as air itself. The same hands that were stained with clay, recounting animals seen across stone walls, are the same as your own.
You are the same animal that dominated an entire planet, sheerly through the most carnal displays of creativity our reality allowed.
It is my theory that: losing this fundamental key to our survival, the only thing we as animals have maintained throughout all Our time, will be the Great Beginning of The Rise of Real.
The Rise of Real will be difficult to predict, because our circumstances are the first in history. With great arrogance, I shall attempt to do so anyhow.
I suspect there will be a major pushback on technology – especially as tariffs make it otherworldly inaccessible to a majority of our society. It will become chic to be analogue, and, when all of analogue has been bought up when the trend gets going and there’s none left, and we can’t make anymore, we will regress further. As past generations progressed from one era to another, so too shall we – only, hurtling ourselves backwards, way back behind our ribcages and as deep into our chests as we can find space for ourselves in.
Material artists and musicians will have the easiest time riding the waves of the Rise. With the rejection of technology will come the rejection of what matters, if not tangible. A live performance, no matter the quality of sound, will be desirable purely for the fact that it is people making the music. Same, too, will artists fare – art will once more become coveted pieces, excitable in ownership for the most unalloyed of reasons.
These cultural trends will be a direct result of our hysteria.
We will be clawing, for the first time in our existence, for our stupendous gift of perception of and influence on reality. Calling what I believe we’re all about to experience a trend is almost laughably dismissive. I think it is understood, on a level perhaps inarticulable, that whatever comes next must be the last time that it is ever needed.
And what euphoria! What celebration – my God, can you imagine what we’re all capable of? Can you imagine, when we’re finally granted what we all crave – freedom from these machines and falsities, when we sing as doves do, dance as the lyrebirds, when we’re given permission to be completely unrestrained in our enjoyment of Creation, simply because it is what We do?
It won’t just be the arts – soon, gardeners will become some of the wealthiest and most exalted members of society. Grueling work, agriculture – and still, what are We without it? Soon, the hands that return to soil will be partaking in ancient fundamentals, for needs completely ultramodern.
Leatherworkers can rejoice – buying yearly sneakers will no longer be in our reality. We will need shoes, and clothing, that can be repaired – and is quality enough to last. Likewise, the seamstresses can find peace, as idle skill passed from generations will now prove itself as the wisdom it was intended.
I do not mean to imply I believe we will be set back to the Dark Ages. No – our near future will be a Mephistophelian amalgamation of the most advanced technology ever conceived consuming every visible material, juxtaposed by a wicked scramble of poorly clad wild animals, wailing and desperate to Be.
I believe this is as far as my arrogance can take me. Still, I wish I could project my voice into the brains of all mankind, Wake up! It’s time!
I’ve been told to never write on the future – many an author’s witty hand has been made fool by hubris like this. Speaking truthfully, though, I just can’t help but find it all terribly exciting.