Art Week #4

Photograph by Hannah Glass.

Found here.

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things; of shoes and ships and sealing wax-- of cabbages and kings-- and why the sea is boiling hot and weather pigs have wings."

. . . 

Today, I have completed 14/15 pages of my final paper and am very happy with my focus and progress. Unfortunately, that means that art took a back seat. I planned for this.

Fortunately, though, today has given me another good sign of progress. In looking for a nice images of the sirens, I came across a very random blog called "Rambles from my Chair". Among all of the things to find, there was this quote at the top of his page, which you also found at the top of this entry. You don't have to have read the book to recognize Lewis Carroll. The cosmic relevance struck me.

If I take this as a sign, which I do, it seems that I am on the right path with my Alice Tree project. 

Take my time from time not wasted. 

Though I have not been able make art with a pen, I did manage to contribute to a little poetry that came together in response to the Facebook status of another hippy friend of mine. 

"We don't eat

We don't sleep--

Feels like dreaming--

Without the feeling?

Exactly that, that was rather perfect--

And even so, my head's still reeling"

24 juillet 2011

alex rosene, araf hossain, rossi walter

The triage of voices here brought to mind another fantastical image I have always been fond of: the Sirens of Greek mythology. Illustrator BreeAnn Veenstra did a marvelous rendition:

"The Sirens' Lure" by BreeAnn Veenstra

Survey her other work here.

That seems to be it for this week but I am not complaining. Academic progress in the foreground and a cooking plot for poor Alice in the background. Perhaps I can say I am using the whole of my brain. That would be magnificent. Either way, we all know what the Duchess would say.

"take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves,"
rossi

"GOOD NEWS FOR PEOPLE WHO LOVE BAD NEWS"

"The Moon & Antarctica" Modest Mouse

. . .

Today is the third of my six-day work week machining out words that best articulate my final idea(s) after two months of studying the histories of colonialism before unknown to me, Mediterranean and European authors of whom I had never heard of, and the implications and relevance of it all. I am doing well: 8 of 12-15 pages. 

To get me through the hour-to-hour days in my room, I listen to hours-and-hours of music. My iTunes search history includes one word filters: radio, mountain, weed, marijuana. Today, I started my day with a mostly-naked post-shower sit in the sun behind the villa. The dried, beige and red pockets of dead weeds made the little courtyard glow with age. Now, five hours later, I am sitting at my desk listening to "Life like Weeds". Thanks Modest Mouse.

So, I was going to share a budding conversation with a good companion of mine here in the program, but that necessarily takes a back seat (the next entry). In looking for the pleasant album art that you see at the top of this entry, I found (1) each cover on two different blogs.  

"Styrofoam Boots" (since 2009) and "It's Just So Overrated" (sassy, but true since March 2011) both go into impressive and, in the case of Styrofoam Boots, impressively personal detail about what there is to gain from Moon & Antarctica. As such, summarizing would be ridiculous. Check them out for yourself:

Styrofoam Boots   :   It's Just So Overrated

artists sharing artists,

rossi

UNDERSCORES
(1)  Reader: cease automatically clicking "Full-size image". Develop a curiosity for where the image is coming from; this is the Internet and cool things are out there in the wild.

"CHUNK OF CHANGE"

So, admittedly, I really enjoy the use of the word "blog" now, contrary to what I wrote in the first post since I re-commenced BTG. Part of why is because I have awakened to the usefulness of blogs to get in touch with individuals in what could be one of their purest moments: what they choose to put online to reflect them, what they do, who they are. Despite it being still a funky word, blogs really do bring me enjoyment. The other part is because I've kept the pleasant habit of listening to music to start off my moment. (Here is one of those pure moments that let me reflect who I am to everyone outside of me!)

I'm the kind of guy who thinks that you should listen to the music I am listening to now, as I type, because it will bring you that much closer to me in this moment,  feeling me. 

If you want to try, I am listening to Passion Pit's EP "Chunk of Change" and there is a nice breeze at sunset and the mosquito bite from a few hours ago doesn't itch. Feeling pretty good... 

(Just returned from a petit hiatus: just stormed through la Rue de Pietons with a blindfolded girl with all eyes on the parade. More about that later.)

Sorry, a little inconsistency there. I am not French, but I am in the French riviera, by the way. Specifically, I am in Menton ("chin") a morning's jog away from Monaco, or Italy if you go in the opposite direction. It is a quaint (read: small, as evidenced by the fact that it almost never appears on a map; see below) town-village that is composed rather exactly by all of the casually glamorous photos found with a quick Google Image search. I have become quite fond of it, but I think to me this means looking at it rather that living in it. That's okay. 

. . .

I just recalled that before joining the parade of colleagues--we are here studying i.e. beaching, drinking, generally living--I was looking out over the balcony of my room and on the old-style shingled roof there was a bird fumbling with his feet. Maybe her feet, I don't know. Birds are less obvious than humans to me. S/he was walking down the slope of the roof and kept slipping. It was amusing to watch not because I don't like birds but because this was a formidable looking bird. When I mean formidable, imagine a large hawk with the detailed grey feathers of a forest owl competing with seagulls for food. (I did a quick Google search hoping for just a photo; but good luck with this.) Watching birds look silly is nice. I often look at them and see some sort of majesty, freedom of flight and all that, so seeing the opposite is pretty fun. Makes you wonder what ridiculous human behavior city birds see all day long. Endless humor...

. . . 

Anyway, I have been living here since 4 Juin after spending 1 June traveling from Paris to Nice via TGV (thanks Eurostar!) and indulging in the beautiful Nice for a few days. Stayed in a great hostel i.e. free breakfast and soft bed and water, temperature-indifferent. Sat on the beach objectifying and philosophizing with the Mediterranean. Then, I thought about keeping up with my experiences, typical as they were, perhaps, on the blog, but I had already begun a written journal invested with drawings and doodles. I like what's contained in it-- probably will like it much more in a year or two, provided it doesn't burn away (note: scan page-by-page into computer ...) After being established here for some time now and gaining a reasonable work load for class, I don't write in it as often. Translated, that means that it has transformed into the occasional poem and a handful of ink sketches. This pleases me; it shall continue. 

I will put up two more comprehensive posts for those patient enough and wanting to "put themselves in my shoes". Selling point: my father has issued me a "1000-photo" challenge, as he knows that I am rather bad about documenting with photographs. I now have a reason to carry around my phone, it having been on "airplane mode" pretty much since I got off of the plane. So, you can rest assured that any post concerning France will be as engaging as an illustrated book. 

Random last note, check the website this rather beautiful photo was taken from. LOL.

written by the re-inspired,

rossi

"WE ARE BORN"

The word "past" is a great word for encompassing exactly what our pasts are, very real but since then more has happened and more will happen. Even abstract and non-human entities have "pasts," like Bucket in The Garage here. Fortunately, more has happened indeed and, after having rejected it for a year, BTG has been revived into something new, more relevant, and personal. BTG is truly my web log.

But even with a new coat of coding, "blogs" for me still carries the annoying association with teenagers ranting about friends, opinionated women about their lovers and bad dinners, and gay men dwelling pensively (or not) on all three. I hope to avoid this. I aim for commentary about the art that other create, dance that others make, people I meet, and moments when I meet myself. As things would have it, all this will probably be synthesized into rants about friends, lovers, and bad dinners, but the point is BTG is not a "blog"; it is one letter of life. And there are thousands more. Let's just say, then, that this will "suffice".

Since we are putting words in quotes, how about we quote "conviction".

“He who believes is strong; he who doubts is weak. Strong convictions precede great actions.” Louisa May Alcott 

Conviction is one of those words that seem to be used most often by people who actually have it. For example, you cannot tell me that Louisa May Alcott does not have conviction. Sure she didn't think very highly of her "Little Women" but damnit Alcott had enough conviction to write a 900 page novel and three sequels ("Good Wives," "Little Men," "Jo's Boys"). For some people, this is a very feasible task-- I can think of some now. But if trudging through over a thousand pages of this is what it takes to have conviction, then I am unfortunately ousted from the club.

Regardless, making this Ode to Life (Ode = more or less a letter) takes conviction, which I have. But, to make the whole thing feel a little more complete, just Clap Your Hands. Sia will like that. She will like it very much.


written with conviction,
rossi