31.8.07
30.8.07
Fuuuuuuu (ck)
I made the fucking most aweSOME observaion, whilst "interacting with certain substances" the other day:
WAIT FOR IT (because its fucking REV-O-LUTE-ZION-ARY)
ok ok ok ok, so right
Theres Cookie Monster right.
From Sesame Street right?
And hes always around all those cookies right?
And when he holds one of these cookies and allegedly eats them,
HE DOESN'T, RIGHT!
He just STUFFS them in his mouth goes CRUNCH CRUNCH
CRUNCH and all those iddy biddy semi invisible cookie crumbles
fly EEEEEEVERYWHERE.
So right, hes called the Cookie Monster, yeah?
But like he doesn't eat cookies!!!
So he should be called like the Nothing Monster...
or...
the anorexic monster...
or something..
you know?
WAIT FOR IT (because its fucking REV-O-LUTE-ZION-ARY)
ok ok ok ok, so right
Theres Cookie Monster right.
From Sesame Street right?
And hes always around all those cookies right?
And when he holds one of these cookies and allegedly eats them,
HE DOESN'T, RIGHT!
He just STUFFS them in his mouth goes CRUNCH CRUNCH
CRUNCH and all those iddy biddy semi invisible cookie crumbles
fly EEEEEEVERYWHERE.
So right, hes called the Cookie Monster, yeah?
But like he doesn't eat cookies!!!
So he should be called like the Nothing Monster...
or...
the anorexic monster...
or something..
you know?
23.8.07
Mikou
Yes, you. You know who you are. Not so silent calm of my life. The echo of many years of figuring things out. An echo with a body, soul and mind. Simple requirements met to the exact proportions. A blurr of perfections and imperfections, many things slide easily, others need adapting. A constant ever changing mass of static electricty, sweeping up the leaves from the ground, driving on the pavements and kissing me on a bridge over a still river with trees so tall you'd think Dali had painted them to laugh at reality. A coveted dreamscape literally cramming as much quiet and fresh air into our collective memories. This is where i grew up, and I finally took you there. You, my other, finally saw where it all took place, where all the beauty and monsters of my childhood took hold of my mind.
The charming smile that makes every girl in the room skip a beat, used with full knowledge of the banality of feminine simplicity. Then the layer beyond, an intelligent stronghold, ready to see the world from my strange strange view but then also helping me see why everyone else sees it the "normal" way. Finally, the best part, the coup de grace, the part I'd scoop up in my cupped hands and blow at the whole world so that they'd experience even a fraction of the happiness. The soul, the entity, the core, just...basically...you. You who sees my child and skips along with it. You who sees my broken mirror and traces the cracks so gently so that they seem less and less important. You who lets me whispers quietly in french amongst the rose smoke. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime. A greek deity among the commoners, a polish sweetheart amongst the bourgeous belgians and a single note of clarity amongst the confused looks.
Yes, you.
The charming smile that makes every girl in the room skip a beat, used with full knowledge of the banality of feminine simplicity. Then the layer beyond, an intelligent stronghold, ready to see the world from my strange strange view but then also helping me see why everyone else sees it the "normal" way. Finally, the best part, the coup de grace, the part I'd scoop up in my cupped hands and blow at the whole world so that they'd experience even a fraction of the happiness. The soul, the entity, the core, just...basically...you. You who sees my child and skips along with it. You who sees my broken mirror and traces the cracks so gently so that they seem less and less important. You who lets me whispers quietly in french amongst the rose smoke. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime. A greek deity among the commoners, a polish sweetheart amongst the bourgeous belgians and a single note of clarity amongst the confused looks.
Yes, you.
13.8.07
Happy little lives.
So there is art.
Lets focus in on the fine arts.
So theres the fine art paintings and drawings that we see in our everyday typical museum. The great masters of the past. Lets focus in on those that were existant before the 20th century. Their sense of great art was this ultimate focus on detail and perfection. From the greeks idealistic marble gods to 17th century dutch attention to the minutae of every shift of pastoral light.
So thats aesthetics...back then.
Then BAM world gets more automated and disillusioned. Less things are put in question. In comes modernism and post-modernism.
But people still go to museums and consider the perfection and scrupulous visual dissection as superior art. People with a less imaginative/creative brain, consider a copy paste replica of a particular landscape or still life as the epitome of this thing called 'art'. They say ohh thats nice, it fits neatly in their visual vocabulary and they can get back to their happy little lives.
But then there are those who have seen the world differently, and have accepted that these different views of the world can all live harmoniously. They have not rejected the gruesome and murky, the blinding joys, the tearful dawns. They have mentally chewed all of them up and spat them out either personally or have found their resultant mastications in someone else's work.
Those with a more close minded view on emotions and the abundance of life, have chosen to appreciate the machines in us, the powerhouse that is our brains, to be able to duplicate the world we are in. The rest of us have chosen to question this machine and respond to it as more of an infinite galaxy of possibilites than a mere tool.
And what of art that doesn't speak to most of us?
What do we do of that?
What of art that the majority of the population would deem quite ugly?
Do we dismiss these as unaesthetic rejects, and therefore inadmissable in our visual vocabulary?
What to do with those pieces that have taken hours to create and have painstakingly tried to bring forth a message but still make our hearts hurt in disgust more than anything else?
Is this still art?
Or does the creator have to consider the viewer's susceptabilty to a given number of aesthetic and somewhat mathematical rules?
I don't know yet.
For once this post has no clear answers.
Its a musing that has one upped itself into a 'confusing'.
Lets focus in on the fine arts.
So theres the fine art paintings and drawings that we see in our everyday typical museum. The great masters of the past. Lets focus in on those that were existant before the 20th century. Their sense of great art was this ultimate focus on detail and perfection. From the greeks idealistic marble gods to 17th century dutch attention to the minutae of every shift of pastoral light.
So thats aesthetics...back then.
Then BAM world gets more automated and disillusioned. Less things are put in question. In comes modernism and post-modernism.
But people still go to museums and consider the perfection and scrupulous visual dissection as superior art. People with a less imaginative/creative brain, consider a copy paste replica of a particular landscape or still life as the epitome of this thing called 'art'. They say ohh thats nice, it fits neatly in their visual vocabulary and they can get back to their happy little lives.
But then there are those who have seen the world differently, and have accepted that these different views of the world can all live harmoniously. They have not rejected the gruesome and murky, the blinding joys, the tearful dawns. They have mentally chewed all of them up and spat them out either personally or have found their resultant mastications in someone else's work.
Those with a more close minded view on emotions and the abundance of life, have chosen to appreciate the machines in us, the powerhouse that is our brains, to be able to duplicate the world we are in. The rest of us have chosen to question this machine and respond to it as more of an infinite galaxy of possibilites than a mere tool.
And what of art that doesn't speak to most of us?
What do we do of that?
What of art that the majority of the population would deem quite ugly?
Do we dismiss these as unaesthetic rejects, and therefore inadmissable in our visual vocabulary?
What to do with those pieces that have taken hours to create and have painstakingly tried to bring forth a message but still make our hearts hurt in disgust more than anything else?
Is this still art?
Or does the creator have to consider the viewer's susceptabilty to a given number of aesthetic and somewhat mathematical rules?
I don't know yet.
For once this post has no clear answers.
Its a musing that has one upped itself into a 'confusing'.
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