SIMON STONE - Knysna

At this juncture you're probably thinking I'm about to revert to the pagan Romantic notion of the isolated individual on whom the gods of creativity have bestowed their largesse; the outsider whose truth to art supercedes any other connection to life and whose foibles, flaws and dysfunctionalism are not only forgiven but upheld as proof of their genius. In his introduction to Chicago "Outsider" artist, Henry Darger, art critic Michael Bonesteel describes this species of practitioner as being distinguishable by their inability to differentiate between art and life, making art to document and thereby affirm their fantasies by creating "proof" of their exustence. In short, they literally live their art. And we, in turn, value them as such, in terms of our own representations and mythologies  

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of divine anointment, holy grails, shamanistic visions and idiot-savants. But as much as we elevate them, we also make martyrs and sacrificial lambs of them, should they succumb to "normality", or lose the "plot" altogether.