[Orgasmic Organisms III] Egon Schiele & the Creative Urge

As every form, piece of art entails entertainment and intrigue, there too must be some to vilify and damn; if not those few or many whom the finger points, then what else does art has to offer beyond its very purpose to impose perception?

The higher the artist reach to grasp a standard of a dream, the lower he'll be drug and the dredges and pulls, much more tighter and persistent as ever before and with every tug, there too comes a double-headed representation; not only has art reached its zenith to outrage, that in its very rocket-flight upward, the cosmos has become rearranged and the vapid human content no longer have maps to find their way about; nothing anymore is what is was, time is changing, a new epoch is charging in with non-marching orders and the train everyone was convinced would arrive, bypasses.

Schiele took no detours, felt no fear, even being a man at least a hundred years ahead of his time and a man, amongst many more better concealed in their compulsions, unhidden. With every town he entered, parents kept their children close, the laws kept their legislation at the ready to be altered in any way that would hold captive the captivator.

Was Egon Schiele, by today's standard, a Ephebophile? Yes, as was Vladimir Nabokov as well as R. Kelly. Did these atypical attractions make Egon the artist he was and renown for being today? Without a doubt; a compulsion, an impulse, the spasm to commit physically, can be so powerful as to reverberate and echo throughout every sense the human body is known to possess. This very desire influences the creative urge, for an artist to confess by brush, canvas, oil and acrylic, notes and sketches their innermost impish interior.