Salamanders, art, and the mental institution: Where do I fit in?
It's 1am, I've been up since 6. I'm tired, but I work through it. I do it for y'all. The love is there.
random technical photo stuff here. short story: I'll be shooting all weekend. More film than I ever could afford. For free. I just hope I haven't drooled on the equipment too much.
A is hunting Salamanders. In the name of science. I think I've lost the ability to spell. No time for that now. Under the cover of night, they creep, wait for the decisive moment, then Dash! They're gone, but lift the trap and see them contort and climb, any way to escape. It is no use. All are counted, mercilessly. Then, without apology, they are placed back on the ground, closer to their objective. When they return, they will again be counted, without pity! Weep not for them, such is the life of a salamander. Peace!
3 experiments with chemicals at work today. All failed. Rather, all banal in their success. more experiments forthcoming.
I need to paint. Torn between saving money to get out of this pillbox I call a house, and spending my savings making art. Art, the higher calling of man, from cave paintings to even more crudely rendered scribblings, praised in exclusive, obfuscatory ramblings by cretins deemed qualified by more highly qualified cretins. Ah, civilisation. why bother? Nature abhors a vacuum, and that is certainly a worthy signifier for this failed experiment. Let us go back to painting on walls, those half-men who know nothing of the misery we have conceived for ourselves today. They were sad- why? Their brother was eaten by his hairy, oversized supper. Would you like to supersize that? Our abstractions cause pain, and what is the cure? Art. yes, my friends, we have come full circle. It is a deranged circle, sketched in fits and coughs, but the idea is there. The circle is not the point. Art is the point. 'tis a necessity in life: Air, Water, Food, Shelter, Art. except food and art are on the same level: Sharlter.
Art, to create, whether by language, image, or touch. Yes, painting is tactile, it is for the artist, not the viewer. To paint without touching your subject; this is where the soul enters the work, it is lifeless.
"A picture is worth a thousand words." bah. one word. One word is worth ten thousand words. "Niggardly." Remember the ten thousand words that followed the last time you heard this? a reminder. where has the love of language gone? When did people lose the meaning of the word 'awesome'? To inspire awe. Do we know what awe is anymore? How about Shock and Awe? Americans certainly were not in awe. We have seen plenty more awesome whilst sitting comfortably in our $11 theatre seats, sneakers sticking to the floor, liter of sodium saturated soda vibrating with the force of the simulated explosion occuring in front of us in two wonderful dimensions, depicted better than in life, and without the tedious cleanup. My point is that nothing can truly inspire awe in us anymore, not even a force to end thousands of lives, and destroy the hopes of a hundred times that number. Perhaps the word awesome had met its proverbial match, and, gracious in defeat, conceded to a more fitting, albeit demeaning, definition.
I have been writing for an hour, and I have maybe 3/4 a page to show for it. Time to rest my metaphorical pen so that I may rest my head.
Radical,
Juicifer
It's 1am, I've been up since 6. I'm tired, but I work through it. I do it for y'all. The love is there.
random technical photo stuff here. short story: I'll be shooting all weekend. More film than I ever could afford. For free. I just hope I haven't drooled on the equipment too much.
A is hunting Salamanders. In the name of science. I think I've lost the ability to spell. No time for that now. Under the cover of night, they creep, wait for the decisive moment, then Dash! They're gone, but lift the trap and see them contort and climb, any way to escape. It is no use. All are counted, mercilessly. Then, without apology, they are placed back on the ground, closer to their objective. When they return, they will again be counted, without pity! Weep not for them, such is the life of a salamander. Peace!
3 experiments with chemicals at work today. All failed. Rather, all banal in their success. more experiments forthcoming.
I need to paint. Torn between saving money to get out of this pillbox I call a house, and spending my savings making art. Art, the higher calling of man, from cave paintings to even more crudely rendered scribblings, praised in exclusive, obfuscatory ramblings by cretins deemed qualified by more highly qualified cretins. Ah, civilisation. why bother? Nature abhors a vacuum, and that is certainly a worthy signifier for this failed experiment. Let us go back to painting on walls, those half-men who know nothing of the misery we have conceived for ourselves today. They were sad- why? Their brother was eaten by his hairy, oversized supper. Would you like to supersize that? Our abstractions cause pain, and what is the cure? Art. yes, my friends, we have come full circle. It is a deranged circle, sketched in fits and coughs, but the idea is there. The circle is not the point. Art is the point. 'tis a necessity in life: Air, Water, Food, Shelter, Art. except food and art are on the same level: Sharlter.
Art, to create, whether by language, image, or touch. Yes, painting is tactile, it is for the artist, not the viewer. To paint without touching your subject; this is where the soul enters the work, it is lifeless.
"A picture is worth a thousand words." bah. one word. One word is worth ten thousand words. "Niggardly." Remember the ten thousand words that followed the last time you heard this? a reminder. where has the love of language gone? When did people lose the meaning of the word 'awesome'? To inspire awe. Do we know what awe is anymore? How about Shock and Awe? Americans certainly were not in awe. We have seen plenty more awesome whilst sitting comfortably in our $11 theatre seats, sneakers sticking to the floor, liter of sodium saturated soda vibrating with the force of the simulated explosion occuring in front of us in two wonderful dimensions, depicted better than in life, and without the tedious cleanup. My point is that nothing can truly inspire awe in us anymore, not even a force to end thousands of lives, and destroy the hopes of a hundred times that number. Perhaps the word awesome had met its proverbial match, and, gracious in defeat, conceded to a more fitting, albeit demeaning, definition.
I have been writing for an hour, and I have maybe 3/4 a page to show for it. Time to rest my metaphorical pen so that I may rest my head.
Radical,
Juicifer
what an extremely insightful journal entry
yea... about money and art. im at the same point. i need to save money but i can't keep myself away from the dance studio
thanks for your comment. youre such a sweetie