heyyouku
interconnected
we shapes encounter others
different but same
Inktober 10th: heyyouku
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Inktober 9th: Odd and Even
My daughter and I are both fans of David Bowie. In this image I have three lines from his classic song “Space Oddity.” They are encased in three roughly circular shapes, which mark the vertices of a roughly equilateral triangle. Such a triangular dot array is mathspeak for “therefore.”
The oddness of this image is contrapuntally offset by the evenness of the two acrostic, with their identical rhyme and meter schemes. There is also an odd sort of evenness in the balance of the image’s composition. I owe an awareness of balance to a certain Professor Scott of the University of Arizona, who used paintings by Daivd (French; roughly pronounced “dah-veed”) and Poussin (French; roughly pronounced “poo-san”) to make his case for balanced compositions.
Odd & Even
Omnibuses never flee
Digits victorize with V
Definitions carve a plane
& a meaning may remain
Even & Odd
Evanescence of the s&
Volitionalized Marlon Brand O
Everlasters never did
Nor heroes in the curtains hid
I leave you, friendly readers, with the happy notion that you may dismiss any confusion you get from the image, or the poetry, or my notes here, with this simple thought: it’s SUPPOSED to be Odd. 🙂
Inktober 8th: iconoclastic vertex periphery
Iconoclastic vertex periphery? Does that make sense? Yes and no, I hope, just like that iconoclastic vertically peripheral character of the Deadpool movies, Negasonic Teenage Warhead.
And why aren’t Avert (or is it Avery?) and Virtu (Or is it Vertu?) in the title? And are those lovebirds or malevolent eyes in the lower right corner of that maybe-the-Moon?
The artist isn’t trying to be coy, Friends. (Then why is he referring to himself in the third person?) He is just taking Fuzzy Set Theory into account in his iconoclasm. Â You can’t have Reality without Mystery, thank Goodness.
Inktober 7th: Hand’s Scape
Hand’s Scape
Holding one in one is bliss
As a moonrise yields a disc
Never letting go in sleep–a
Dream defines two hearts that deep
‘S all right when ye Lovers Leape
Inktober 6th: Mount Rushmore Revisited
The phrase “old white guys” has cropped up in current American parlance to describe an obsolete ruling class. Last century a monument to four old white guys was carved out of a mountainside. So I started noodling out what might be a 2018 re-imagining of a monumental sculpture of heads, not four, not old, not exclusively white, not exclusively guys. Tried not to think of any person in particular.
Inktober 5: shape speaks
A mountain in the distance is a shape. There is one in my Valley of the Sun that is called Camelback Mountain. It especially looks like a reposed camel when the viewer is a few miles west of it. When the viewer approaches, she sees a knob of rock on the mountain that has come to be called the Praying Monk. Shape speaks to the viewer.
A hurricane viewed beyond the atmosphere is a shape that speaks. So is a frost pattern on a bedroom window. So is the rising Moon. And a backlit person, a cloud, another cloud, a farm landscape. Shape shapes us.
Inktober 4th: Fied Fivefer
The window of Inktober opportunity today is small, so I punched out this acrostic quickie during my post-shower coffee:
down year
daffodil has said goodby
oleander makes you die
we ignore the bougainvillea
nevermore to be familiar
At the same time I had four more images, one made in September. There was a brief inner tussle. “Pre-Inktober. Can’t use it.” “Fie upon it. I am using it.”
Inktober 3: Lost & Found
In the art world, “found art” is something someone (or something) else made that the artist appropriates. Now suppose the artist made it, put it aside for a couple of years, found it in a pile of papers, jazzed it up some, and thus appropriated his own stuff. Here below is a piece of Lost and Found Art.
Inktober 2: Existential Clues
My updated  driver’s license arrived in the mail yesterday. It says a lot about who the State of Arizona thinks I am, and some of it is true.
Elsewhere in my wallet are various IDs and other clues as to the nature of my existence. There’s a 31 day full-fare bus pass, for instance. In a year I will be able to get one for half-fare, unless they change the rules.
I’ve put my drawing in a context that Sherlock Holmes would have some success in learning much more about me. But none of it, nor all the data an exhaustive FBI search would reveal, nor all the memories of everyone who ever knew me, nor my own increasingly spotty memory, is sufficient to describe who I am. And a good thing, for I am always straining to become someone else. Aren’t we all?
Inktober 1st: Concert
Long ago  Elton John sang, at Big Surf in my own Valley of the Sun, “You’re gonna hear electric music, solid walls of sound…” At least that’s what I heard, and wondered: What would that look like? Then, approximately ten years later, I was on an airplane, and Dire Straits invited me to “Check out Guitar George. He knows all the chords…” Then, approximately four years later, a former classmate nameed George Gilman, who did indeed know all the chords, helped serenade my infant daughter Katie with guitar and voice. She was fascinated and silent.
Now, approximately 28 years later, the image below fulfills its approximately 42-year destiny. Inktober has begun!
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One with Clay, Image and Text 