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Tag Archives: art

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Apologies to Brad Pitt for exploiting his name and face, albeit in a good cause.

Synopsized facts about “Who Killed the Electric Car?” may be found on Wikipedia, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Killed_the_Electric_Car%3F . It may seem that by now, eight years later, the point is moot, but we’re pumping more than ever out of the ground and into the sky.

“Jean-Luc” is a reference to the character Patrick Stewart played in the STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION omnibus. He was a starship captain who certified his orders with “make it so.”

Unforeseen Difficulty

Unto us an Engine framed, full bore & rectified
Now release we Inner Cowgrrr–yippy ki yi yi
Four-speed shift or automatic–really, what’s the diff
Oil & gasoline intoxicate–just take a whiff
Rolling on a highway beats a loll on the lanai
Eminent domain emissions make it so Jean-Luc
Sifting through us like a line of poorly-lit haiku
Even-handed citizens may want to take a Poll
Eco-minders balk if Greenpeace comes for their Renault
Never mind–y’all drive into the Sunset–say goodby

You can’t see a thought, you can’t measure, weigh, nor taste it – but thoughts are the most real things in the Galaxy.” –Robert Heinlein

“It’s the thought that counts.” –folk “wisdom”

“The thought without action isn’t worth the non-paper it’s written on. It’s the thought-driven ACTION that counts.” –Me

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I may not be able to see a thought, but I thought I’d try drawing one. [bemused sketchy smile]

cantankerously unobstreperous

curmudgeons may include him, her, and you
and dogs who howl and bay to fill the moon
not mentioning an undynamic duo
that carries on more frenzied than haboob
antagonism coexists with brothers
neanderthalic whims take to the street
kerfuffle ends, but soon will be another
euripedes was ofttimes indis-crete
rasputin took some hits, but none too deep
olivier became a drilling foe
upended abel’s brother was no keeper
soliloquizing hamlet sez hell/o
life reads as epic, wit reads like a senryu
you turn a scowl to grin–you pay your dues

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Can you find the twelve curmudgeons in this sonnet?

Don’t bother, he said grumpily.

shame 100314

This image was taken on my phone camera, e-mailed to onewithclay@hotmail.com, photoedited on my Samsung laptop, and posted above. I love 21st Century tech. Normally I’d have scanned the page, but I’m not at home. That’s why it doesn’t look like the usual.

As for Shame, it unduly warps our feelings, our behavior, and our relationships. It’s a shame I can’t say more, but I’m late for lunch. [sad face]

This beautiful light display was on the ground by the truck Denise and I were getting out of, in the parking lot of the Cottonwood Recreation Center. I would have liked to have drawn this. Instead, it’s a Found Art Object. The concept of Found Art was originated by Marcel Duchamp most of a century ago.  Now I am one of its promulgators, and happy to be so.

hubcaplight 100214

…stole. A copy of Smithsonian Magazine was open to an ad for the DVD and Blu-Ray editions of Ken Burns’s THE ROOSEVELTS. The cover of the items for sale was photo-based but with an anachronistic twist. I initially wanted to do some portrait practice on Franklin, but I ended up doing them all, pencil-reporting and preserving (stealing) the positioning and the anachronism. I did try to add a little more inner beauty to Eleanor, a little more wide-eyed goodtobehere to Franklin, and a little more walrus to Theodore.

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I also stole the design of the cover of a memo book produced by Mead Products, LLC, but only to the end of getting some black background, the amazing letter string “memo,” about which more later, and the occlusion of “Mead” so that it might also say something else, like “Meanderlust” or “Meant Not To Be.” Art critics love stuff like that, based on historical evidence, but, honest, folks, I did it because it was the right thing to do!

As to “memo,” not only does it start such magical words as Memorial and Memoirist, it also splits into “me mo,” which is falseghetto for “I want more.”

I don’t think there’s a very high probability that I’ve created a great work of art with this, but I hope it and this annotation give satisfation as something more than portraiture exercise. I wanted to illustrate through caricatured example that what we think of as ART requires more than what the artist does on paper or canvas or stone or sheetmetal; it also requires the thoughts and opinions of others in the Art Business.

For the record, I don’t think stealing makes me a Great Artist. Hard work, skewed thoughtlines, and perseverance MAY do that. It is for others to judge my worth.

Lastly, I’ll steal a terrific seven words from Allen Ginsberg:

“I forbid you not to touch me.”

SEPT: A group believing itself derived from a common ancestor.
EMBER: A small piece of wood or burning coal in a dying fire.

OCTO: Prefix for Eight.
BE: Exist.
R: The interjectory noise a pirate makes.

September Songlet

The good September’s here, but not to last.

October waxes as September wanes.

Be both of that as may and as has passed

Each year brings her September labor pains.

Ectopic pregnancies, some: touch and go.

October in September’s womb grows huge.

Rough gusts presage the broken waterflow

Now whirling in gestation’s centrifuge.

October pushes through September’s tissue

Through gauze as underlies a cap and gown

Through portalled Time which adds her to her issue

Out in to Real, with scarcely time to crown.

But some September echoes still resound

Echoic of the Fall of Grace she’d ground.

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As with a good deal of other human endeavor, this text-based image is a happy-accidental cacophony of One Thing Leads To Another, with an overlay of a consciousness trying to make sense of it all. What luck it was that “Psychosis” is choppable into equal three-character strings, and hey! so is “Symphonic!” And Wow–“Psy” names a pop star of Korean roots, and so does “Cho!” A lookup of “Sis” yields–WOW!!! “Secret Intelligence Service,” aka MI16!!!! And so forth.

Early on in this image I’d intended to ask a musically-gifted friend to compose the three ending bars of the Psychosis Symphony–but the crazy-minded flavor of my acrostics made the route I took here suit the subject more fittingly. There is just enough musical notation to frame the elements, and that is another happy accident.

“Psychosis” words:

Paste-effacement is no basis
Prawn-bowl cause could lead to stasis

Shown shorn wraiths of Anasazi
Sphagnums guest heat into ziti
Spared a tool with Luca Brasi
Scarfed aphasic Nefertiti

Yet heard echoes of glissandos
Yaw pitched metaphoric rondos

“Symphonic” words:

She’ll help with a hum/bello piñon
Suppress an oppressivish minion

You might hear from Lauper, Cyndi
Yearn & search for Don’t Bee koi
Yes, & werebeests’ hoped-for chindi
Yet may garnish fresh bok choi

Might need to enshroud a Jung maniac
Moo, Zeke! It’ll get downright zany, Mac

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Some day we’ll have a thought-recorder (though it may be argued that stuff like the above image IS a thought-recorder) and people will be astonished to read the transcripts of their own thoughts, let alone those of others. The Surrealists, I think, were on to something.