Lotsa little bits can make a lot
Sticky images is what we got Piling up like lollies Suck on 'em! ...they're sweet and slick Art meets techno follies Pixel Pixie he's the king Watch him dance and do his thing Tumblr, flickr, blogger too He makes pretty pic for you See it, store it, forget it now Move along to the next big wow Grab you mouse and squeeze it tight At this rate we'll be up all night Pixel Pixie he's a demon Shows you things - gets you believin' Tiny dots of rgb Forming new realities Your mind so full you'll be crying jpegs Good morning.
And good morning to you. How was your sleep? Good. Yours? Good, but, er... but I did have a funny dream. Oh? What was it? I dreamt that I was somewhere on an island.... Yes..? There was some kind of ceremony happening... Go on... It was weird... What? Details... I was wearing... What? A pastel yellow sports jacket. OMG! That is disgusting. You poor thing! >sob< You'll be OK. It was just a dream. They said it would happen but, to be honest, I didn't believe it. I mean I was like a princess! Cavorting around, drunk on my own beauty, getting praised and envied and lusted after! It was more that just a night to be remembered - it was a night I will never forget. And I knew I was gonna get laid. It was in the bag. I had choices! Rich guys, good looking guys, rich good looking guys, sexy scientists (only one, but still), exotic billionaires from countries I hadn't ever heard of...! The list goes on. I would write it all down. Except I don't HAVE ANY FUCKING HANDS!
I was supposed to be in ecstasy right now! Maybe even married to a prince or a sultan or something. Yeah they told me about this - warned me that after the clock strikes 12 - if I wasn't home - but come on! - scare mongering, stupid superstitions, jealous lies... by 10pm and six champagnes I had completely forgotten about it all together. By 11pm I had danced with my dream partners, pashed a barman, had lines in the toilet with an Armanian rapper while being fondled by his girlfriend.... the list goes on. Who had brain space to remember some dumb fairy tale caution...?? I was living the life, baby! But midnight did come. And suddenly. And now here I am. Can you believe it? And I'm not the only one. Some of the others have been here forever. One old lady told me that I should pray to be taken and eaten by a peasant or a passing family. At least that way I won't be left to rot! How could this happen??? OMG. And then they told about a time, once a year, when some of us get picked out and taken and carved up. I didn't believe things could get any worse. But I was wrong! They're going to completely gut me and carve my face?! I was a world class beauty! Famous! A princess! What the hell happened to my dress by the way? I can't move. Why do I get the feeling it's lying in the dirt behind me or somewhere? And my boobs? They were pert and perky. Primetime nipples. Oh, oh, oh. What a waste of perfection. I hate fucking fairy tales. Curse the motherfuckers who thought this one up. Couldn't they just leave me alone. I was having the night of my life. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I don't even like orange! It sucks! Couldn't I be pink at least?! Shit. And I'm fat! Go, go. Leave me... boo hoo...! - sob - Yes, you are. This is not you, of course. It is a collage/composite/painting/drawing I did yesterday of a pretty girl. But it represents all of us. It represents the glorious nature of sentient beings. That is one thing that art is good at. It elevates us. It encourages us to use our minds and imaginations to transcend the ordinary. Draws us closer to how we wish the world could be - full of beauty, purity and love.
Actually, looking at the girls face she does seem a little concerned about something in the distance. Don't worry sweet being I conjured up - you have a lovely hair piece and criss-cross necklace! One day I will draw you a prince you can marry - or at least date and see how it goes. (Relationships are challenging in any realm.) Little bits of lots of things
In plain sight and obscure Molecules and intentions Pristine or impure Beyond the realm Of impossible Deep within Sweet or sour We are formed And formless Integers Counting down The hours I believe that as an artist it is important to try and find joy wherever and whenever you can. For some reason, most artists tend to be prone to bouts of melancholia. They seem unavoidable. When these come, I ride them out as best I can by doing things I know will bring some degree of relief - walking, swimming in the ocean, reading, watching a movie (or these days; TV series).
But when in just regular existence mode, I really try and enjoy the simple fact of being alive. I look around, I am curious, I especially try and see/find things that are weird and funny, ironic and beautiful. And why not? Every moment is a chance to be shaped - if you can - you may as well take the initiative and zestfully inject a positivity hit into it. This helps balance the sobering, periodic afflictions of depression. It's all one long, wild fucking ride. A crazy dream. A breathtaking story written by a genius of nonsense and grandeur. So, do it, I say. Dance, dance, dance. Some wisdom here, from Ira from NPR's 'This American Life'. What he says about the creative process and the initial gap between your vision and your ability is accurate and resonating.
I remember distinctly when I was in second and third year of art school - painting and drawing non-stop - thinking 'this is fine, I am loving it but these images have very little to do with what is really in my head...' and wondering, 'when will there be a synchronisation between where I am in my headspace and what is coming out in the images I am making. It took a long time. I would say, although, there were times when the two met, they were sporadic. Really, it has only been in the last few years that I can confidently state that the pictures I make are purely me - I don't have to strive for a style, struggle as much, be frustrated because I am not creating what I envision. What I see is what you get. Having said that, I am also a writer - and the struggle continues. Even though, I have spent countless hours honing my skills - much of the time - there is still a gap. I can write short pieces and be completely satisfied - they are pure me. But longer ones - a novel, say, or a screenplay - yet to be cracked. Time and effort is what it will take. The joy of course with doing something like this blog or my comics for example is that I can merge the two - images and writing. Makes it easier for both. They can work together, boost each other, help each other along. Anyway, one of the important things in the Ira's talk is that you should never give up in trying to diminish that gap. Deep down you know what it is you want to share and through devotion to your craft, perspicacity and passion - you will find a way to bring it to fruition. And is it worth it? All the time, sweat and sacrifice? Oh. Yes. So. Worth. It. Funny. I was creating an event for my new show opening next week on facebook - when somehow I stumbled onto this one in the Events pages. I was shocked and astounded. I had completely forgotten I even had this show. But I did, I really did. It was when I first came back to Sydney after living in LA and started painting again. Have had a show a year since then. Good old Kafka!
...or, in this case, meringue.
Why not? We are all going to die. Before the end, make sure you do some of the things that you really want to. Like my friend, Nick, did on his 50th - trekking up to Everest base camp with his best friends. Or even just trying a 'cronut' - donut/croissant hybrid. And all the rest in between...! Point is - time feels limitless but it is finite. Attempt to transcend your habitual concerns. I've just started reading a book called 'Wild' by Cheryl Strayed - a true story. She decides to go on a solo hike up the east coast of the US - 1,600km. That's an option. (Take plenty of cronuts.) What countries have you always wanted to see/visit but haven't got round to yet? Make a list. Then eat it. Followed by a cronut. There's freedom in wackiness. Art, theatre, writing, dance, music - all forms of release. We get to portray the selves within oursleves, the selves from beyond our selves - we reveal and release the spirits that possess magic and mayhem into reality so that they can have identities and become intergrated into our realities and be discovered, enjoyed and acquired by everyone.
Superheroes, legends of stage and screen, cartoon characters - all conjured up at one stage from an artist's crazy inspiration. And dance - what is it if not a glorious exorcism? Music bubbles in and from our subconscious. Literature offers complete new worlds to inhabit. Just think about how much of our lives are involved with these fantastic other worlds. We love to escape. We love to play and make believe. It unites us, liberates us. It is the delicious, tasty, nourishing sauce that covers the main meal of life. What is important, and to be encouraged, is our individual creations. Self discovery is boosted through expression in these forms. Don't just be an art consumer - make your own. Write your own truth. Dance and sing to the unique tunes that play inside your head. Let it out, let it all out. The more zany, joyous, cacaphonic self expression there is on the planet the better. Make art not war. Forget greed, do the jig. Write your truth. Let your fantasy flourish. When the unreal becomes real it's really unreal! Aspirations can help elevate us out of the ordinary and into the realm of limitless possibilities. I speak from experience when I say that a lot of dreams do not come true but this doesn't mean you shouldn't keep aspiring to new ones. Even some of the old favourites are worthy of a fifth, tenth or thousandth try. Why not. Head in the clouds - the air is fine up here. And the view is better.
Carlos Castaneda's book, 'The teachings of Don Juan', had a monumental influence on my life thoughts when I read it at age 20. It is a deeply spiritual story of encounters with a richly magical shaman/wiseman/master and learning about the connections between the known world and the powerful, nebulous unknown realms of nonordinary realities. I relished reading this book and the two subsequent, connected follow ups and really go a lot from them. I came across Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman about a decade later and was uplifted and influenced by it also. It is a story, again, of a young man seeking wisdom who encounters and learns from an older mentor about the spiritual journey.
To my delight, in my early 40's when I was in LA, I happened to be walking past a book shop on Melrose Ave and saw a sign that said free talk by Dan Millman. Of course, I attended it and listened to and met the author. He was extremely balanced (did a handstand on his desk from standing start at beginning of talk) and impressively focused and lucid. Where do you go when you are alone in your head?
What flavours of living do you enjoy the most? Are you sometimes aware of the separation of your body and your soul? When you dream are you more present, more engaged than in your waking life? Beyond surface living, we all have massive, complex realms of existence. We don't talk about these things often, if at all. They are subtle and profound - unique to each of us... our individual perception mixed with our innate predilections creates a spectrum so immense it is immeasurable and beyond definition. Still, we all experience it - all the time. Mostly, we kind of ignore it al - otherwise we may become overwhelmed. Sometimes though, we can tune in to certain elements and become hyper aware. There is no need for drugs. We are drugs. Chemicals, molecules, electrons.... we are a living cornucopia of impulses, membranes, mass, volume, fluids and bone. We are totally beyond our own comprehension! And still, we exist. And we try. We try to come to terms with our individual tenures here on this blue ball in space. Am I freaking out? Not anymore. But I used to. I've been around for over five decades now - so I'm through the initial stages. Dues have been paid, experiences experienced, time served. I have lived and continue to do so. The only constant is change. Most of the time I am quietly in awe. Amazed. I am at ease surrounded by fellow human but find solace in solitude as well. I am experiencing the perpetual sensation of being alive and expressing a snippet of my concept of my existence. Doing so pleases me in some small way. Validates, celebrates, cogitates... Finally, I am beginning to truly feel what I always imagined it would feel to have a life. To habitate an entity of substance and experience. Somehow I have survived long enough to feel I belong. A miracle, really. And I'm happy to be here. As always, I take it personally. If I were a moguldog
After a hard day of fucking and howling I'd sit back with a cigar Wind in my dog hair Suit on my back And contemplate the important things Like food and more fucking |
ART GETS ME HIGHAuthor & ArtistLewie JPD Archives
September 2019
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