The pure pleasure of imagination

I wonder why I waited fifteen years to continue doing what I did so well, and with such unconceivable pleasure, as a teenager: sitting down in front of a piece of paper and inventing a world, without worrying too much about what I was going to do with it. The sheer pleasure of imagining, of building. A mental refuge, too.

*

Surfing around on pages talking about video games, virtual reality, eXistenZ, etc., I came across an extract from a manifesto that affirms or reminds us of the simple truth that video games combine all the arts, without losing their primary identity as games. And that it doesn't cut itself off from reality, but enriches it – because it's "everyday life" that's cut off from reality, from the primary realities of life and being. Hence the reflection I made to myself, that so-called Contemporary Art ™ was really, definitively, without appeal, a total imposture; the only art that synthesizes all the others, the only art that involves the "spectator" 100%, the only art that is totally part of life, is the video game.