I’m trying something new- something that i should have done a long time ago. This entry, although well meaning, does meander a bit. So far, i’m very happy with this plugin and will post a link to its homepage later.
This entry references this post. It’s probably the most important thing i’ve written on synaesthetic.com – ever.
Hope everyone is doing well.
Title: the last time i waited for her
Media: pencil, watercolor
I don’t like to talk about subject matter in terms of interpretation. Composition, color and the role that light and shadows play is fair game but i believe there’s a huge disservice done to the arts when the artist begins deconstructing their work in literal, narrative terms.
Having said that, it’s impossible for me to escape the experiences that nibble the surface of my mind when i paint. Given that art, be it musical, performing or visual, is, at its core essence, self expression for the sake of self expression contained within time and/or space, it’s impossible to remove ones experiences and the interpretation of those experiences from a composition [Oh Lord, i hope i never have to diagram that sentence].
I had an idea of doing a monochromatic painting for a while. To produce my gray, i mixed ultramarine blue with some yellow ochre. Ultramarine blue is a very granular paint. I was surprised at how volatile it was on the paper but very pleased at the end result. About half way through, i began to become aware of the tone the composition was beginning to take-a longing… a friend that no longer was. It wasn’t rooted in a specific memory but it was bound to a specific experience. My paintings often are, whether i want to admit it or not [and i usually don’t].
And the title came to me: the last time i waited for her
So, this time i’m actually giving an insight as to where *I* came from in creating this composition. But please, don’t let me do you a disservice; find your own place in it. If it evokes something beyond and brighter than the place it came from, so much the better. If you find yourself relating and feel a faded thought worrying the edges of your memories, then perhaps you’ll see your next cup of coffee or listen to the rain or to the sound of cars driving on water slick roads with a bit more reflection.
I have a lot on my mind these days, namely the way that silence can be the harshest word never spoken. I’ll have to keep that for another time.
If you look at the side, you’ll notice some journal archives from 2008 [jan apr]. Wow. Talk about interesting. These entries come from a time in my life prior to my sleep therapy. As i was transcribing those pages into WordPress [my publishing software for this journal], i noticed a couple of things.
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Ideas and desires curl and nest inside of me. Some days and some better nights, i get to let them uncoil and rampage through the landscape of my life. There are so many things i want to say, want to write, want to paint, want to feel under my hands and taste in my mouth.
But tonight nothing is coming to me. I know there are these things i’ve wanted to express for a while, letters i want to write but when i try to make them coherent, they disappear. I desire curves and softness and conversation but my room is empty, my bed unmade.
And now the clock is looking at me in that way that says my day is over whether i like it or not and so i go to put myself and these ideas and desires to bed and try to write something coherent tomorrow.
As i write this, Borders [BGP, currently delisted], is closing about 33% of their stores. During the last holiday season, their sales were dismal whereas Barnes and Noble posted healthy profits. This is so depressingly wrong.
Let’s play that game that i like to play so much: compare and contrast.
I don’t make much money. I work for a high school and clear less than $2000 a month. That’s a fiscal reality that i have to plan my life around. I also like books. Lots and lots of books… and dvd’s and cd’s. Ask anyone that’s helped me move. I like books.
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It’s coming up on that time of year where i get to reflect on the changes my life has undergone since i began being treated for sleep apnea. In a few days, it will have been three years since i began sleeping with a bi-pap assisting my breathing at night.
When a stroke patient [that survives], receives an MRI, the damaged and necrotic tissue in the brain can be seen and quantified. The reason i bring this up is because of a conversation i had with my otolaryngologist. For years i felt stupid. I was unable to grasp basic concepts, follow instruction and was prone to being moody [not to mention my insatiable hunger and continual drive to sleep]. The first morning i had after using the bi-pap was a turning point in my life. I’ve written extensively about this. What i couldn’t understand then that i have since realized is that i believe that after 15-18 years of being oxygen deprived at night [to recap: my hypoxia index was at 53% and continuing to fall during my initial sleep study], it’s entirely within the realm of possibility to consider that a prolonged lack of oxygen would have an impact on my brain. Brain tissue wouldn’t be necrotized, as is with the case of stroke victims.
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A few weeks ago i’m at work and need to use the toilet. It happens to the best of us. There’s one in a wing of the school that isn’t as trafficked as the others- so that’s where i go. Besides, it’s in the middle of class so what are the chances that anyone else is going to need it?
I’m in there minding my business and a knock comes on the door. “Busy!” i reply. I guess i could have shouted something else like, “No thanks! I’m doing fine by myself” or “POOPIES ARE HERE!”, but i don’t. “Busy” seems to be relatively well contained and self explanatory.
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I came across my Moleskine today. I bought it years ago but never got as much use from it as i thought i would. It cost me $17 then- which was a lot of money to me at the time. Anyway, i found this passage in the first pages.
It’s the 1st Saturday in May, 2005.
I’ve just bought the book you have in your hands now. I don’t expect greatness to come out of it nor for it to do for me what countless notebooks before this one have failed to do.
Tonight’s Listening: Plastikman : Closer – This is my 1st go with it, so no opinion yet. I’ve enjoyed Richie Hawtin’s Closer to the Edit, so that bodes well. Of course, i’m suspecting that only Amanda and Joanna (two of my most musically literate friends) know what the hell i’m talking about.
Apparently, it’s that time of year where guys reinforce their masculinity by watching guys in tight pants hold each other in a circle, jump and pile on each other, slap each others ass and jump in the air and thrust their nipples on each other in celebration when someone scores. Hello Sailor! It’s football season! Woo hoo! So manly!