Ghosts and Memory

Photo found here.

. . .

A ghost is an apparition, a faint trace of a person that is believed to appear or become manifest to the living. 

In other words, it is the manifestation of memory recalling the existence of a person formerly present.

In the same manner that memory is a shade of the past, a ghost is a shade of one's memory of a person.

Ghosts are very real. They only seem "dead" because they are hazy projections of memory.

They are the authentic living dead.

And I saw one today.

"Josiah"

One should really be amazed at how easily the human brain can invert reality to the extent that memory becomes imagination and the living becomes perceived as already dead.

to my brother Josiah, whom I love,

rossi

Touch Up: One after the Next

Minimalist bed from the collection "Living Divani". Found here.

. . . 

Evidently, I am not very up-to-date with the Internet. I know about Facebook, Google, Gmail, and all that is basic. Sure, you may call me a minimalist.

But it's more accurate to say that I can be pretty averse to technology, skeptical at least. For example, during the summer after our freshman year, my boyfriend registered a Skype account for me because I refused. In doing so, he taught me a new French word: "rossignol". According to WordReference.com, this has several meanings, which include "nightingale", "picklock", "bit of junk", and "out-dated merchandise". Unfortunately for me I have a very acute boyfriend who has an even more acute sense of humor. As was the case, all of these definitions pertained to me and were spot on. So there you have it:

"I, Rossi Lamont Walter, Jr., am indeed out-dated merchandise."

Now, slowly but surely, I become integrated with modern times and the fuller functionality of the Internet. I redeployed the Bucket, which you are now reading. I finally got a Flickr account. Through this, I became acquainted more deeply with Picnik. I don't know if I should thank someone or just be content that all of these services are free. I guess I could send a positive user report. I am very fond of those.

Change is change is change, I suppose. At least I keep others updated about my out-dated habits. At any rate, here is a photo taken of my school with my Android phone and edited in Picnik.

"The Yard"

Things just get curiouser and curiouser.

to be continued,

rossi

Art Week #1

"No Escape"
Rossi Lamont Walter

. . . 

For Esao Andrews, the Monday night art update was his resolution for the new year. He seems to be doing a smashing job. For me, Sunday night art updates are intended to be my promise to myself to do art every week. No more putting it off. No more complaining about putting it off. I spent some hours pouring over his webpage and his blog. Thanks for the inspiration, Esao.

So, I'm in Menton. During the first of what will be eight weeks here, the group was taken on a tour of three villages in the Alps: Gorbio, Roquebrune, and St. Agnès. I remember that in one of them there was a rather modern museum, you know, wood-floor furnished and all. The best part, though, was underneath the museum.  The space was essentially a small cave. Along the walls were framed portraits of detailed faces, often grave and all very French, drawn with pencil. Deeper into the cave were full-length drawings of young ladies at the age of puberty. They were all nude, with rather unspirited facial expressions. Anyway, that was one of the villages. We had lunch in St. Agnès. I had the wild boar and it wasn't bad at all.

After a while, I started wondering who this Saint Agnès (you know, pronounced in the very French way with the 'g' and the 'n' making the nasal sound, not like the American 'Saint agg-nez') woman was, what she was doing these days. I mean obviously she's dead; take any old village named after a saint you just assume that saint is dead, martyred or something maybe. I figured maybe her body was preserved somewhere, or her head. So, I sketched up a kind of classic grim reaper meets homeless crazy woman.

detail: the candle

explanation: friends and I played a little joke on the rest of the group. sitting in a dark common room with our heads covered with long blankets, we waited for them. friend #1 at the piano by the door (note: it was horribly out of tune) and me positioned behind a fake tree with a candle clutched in my palm. was very funny. 

I liked how it was going, but then I couldn't see what this had to do with the village named after this old Saint. I figured she wasn't all that bad, in fact probably pretty pious and pretty benevolent and that, after death, she would become specter guardian, watching over the village with her noble candle. You'll notice the added paper mountain over the original sketch if you hadn't already. Pretty keen job, actually, if I may say so myself. As far as the whole thing, I am pleased. I made a sketch to keep the idea clear. That's the thing about all of these. Some day, I hope to come back and turn these into large or decently sized paintings. I've always regretted not being able to paint. Thanks again to Esao for the inspiration to be diligent with my art. 

. . . 

The second sketch of this week was inspired by some stuff I saw in a window just down the street from the villa. 

That woman looks simply divine! She seems to have not a care in the world and I like that attitude. The grapes, glass chalices, and spectacularly spherical orb of a teapot brought Dionysus the Greek god of wine and festivity. I thought I would spin this into a vivid scene, with three plump young women being the center of it all.

detail: the angry nun and the young man

explanation: " Good Old Fashion Drinkin' "

I can't wait for this one to turn into a painting. It will be a real challenge, but all the better for the braver.

next week is "Alice",

rossi