Friday, November 28, 2014

The Ravens of Unresting Thought...

A bazillion years ago, when I was just a wee slip o' a girl, I wanted to be a comic book artist.

After taking various art courses, I was sidetracked into graphic design and three years of college training in Graphic Arts (typesetting!) more or less went right down the crapper with the advent of desktop publishing.

Yeah.

So after watching newspapers slid into an abyss over the past decade as technology and independent instantanous publishing flood the interwebs with content, I spent the past year experimenting with Photoshop and figuring out how to make an eBook/Graphic Novel/Sequential whatchmahuzzit.

And my brain exploded with delight.

It always helps to have a Muse.

:-)

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

As time goes by....

There simply are not enough songs about Albert Einstein.

Here's one of the best!

Monday, October 20, 2014

Fractals and fiction

I have always been fascinated with fractals.
The endless repetitive patterns found in nature and mathematics.

I suppose one could sum it up with the old saying, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

It has long been an ambition of mine to go back to university when I retire to study quantum physics.
Universal truths are both eloquent and brutal.
IE:
There are no absolutes even in the grand scheme of things, anymore there is in daily life.
Chaos theory rules, but does not have absolute power.
Free will is an illusion, according to finer minds than my own.
The big question is... is there really a Big Question?

Still thinking...

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Art and Evil.

Recently, I have been thinking about whether the artist, or those who patronize Art, can / should be separated from their talent/artistic endeavors and their evil actions/intentions.

IE: The Borgias (Lucrezia above) or Albert Speer, Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, etc. Hence Stephen Fry's angst over loving Wagner's music.

Can you divorce your appreciation for a work of art or an object, such as a beautifully crafted pistol, from its purpose - to hurt, control, kill, wound or maim a human being?

Hard questions.
Often I have sincerely loved an artist's work and found that appreciation ruined by the later discovery that the artist in question is, on a personal level, nasty.

No easy answers.
Still thinking.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Haunted Computer - more things in Heaven... true story. Yes.

So, my haunting back in 2001 made CBC's The Current on Radio One this morning.

Audio here. I narrate my experience right at the start.
I was working late one night. Next to a cemetery.
For reals.

Also, I was nervous while recording to CBC over my phone.
What can I say?
I was sober.


Apologies.
I couldn't find my Evil pumpkin pic, so above is an Evil Kitty

Saturday, October 19, 2013

You can take it to the Banksy


About a year ago I saw my first Banksy in a quirky clothing shop with my 20 something son. He started laughing his ass off at a shirt with graphic of a scrawy boy pulling a rickshaw with two fat tourists doing a selfie.

I stared at it for some time, wanting to both laugh and cry simultaneously.

Since then I have watched Exit Thru the Gift Shop on NetFlix and have a slightly better understanding of gritty, political, and frankly, insane world of street art. It is a strange and lovely film, with a 'gripping and vivid' story. I highly recommend it. All art, even street art, is political - to paraphrase Ai Wei Wei. It create rivalries and nemesii and drama on a theatrical scale. This is opera in a spray can.

I have come to appreciate what Banksy (who ever he/she/them may be) is saying. Even 1000 words often do not do a Banksy work justice. There are multiple levels wrapped up tight within an enigma. Sarcastic, sardonic, touching, hilarious, infuriating ideas are barely contained within a single piece. What Banksy does best is throw hypocrisy into sharp black/white relief, with a bit of colour thrown in.

The Emperor's New Clothes, I suspect, is his preferred fairy tale. Indeed, Banksy puts me in mind of Hans Christian Anderson.

I rather hope we never learn Banksy's identity. It would spoil the illusion. We like our mysterious Robin Hood outlaws tweaking the Sheriff of Nottingham's nose. There are no sacred cows, and yet Banksy can take the simple image of a heart or a flower and rip out your soul. All with a bit of thought, time, cardboard and spraypaint.

I know several multi-million dollar museum pieces that can't hold a candle to him for sheer emotional impact and 'standard operating procedure' BS obliteration.

And isn't that what defines Art? What moves us, and makes us think, and changes our perceptions and beliefs? Isn't that what makes Art, and its evil twin, Propaganda, dangerous?

Banksy is currently raising eyebrows with a month long "Better Out Than In" exhibition. For all of October 2013, New York City is his canvas, his gallery, his playground. It is great fun to watch.

Banksy provides food for thought tucked in behind the dumpsters of the world's major cities.



Is it vandalism if it makes the world a better place?
You can take that ... as you see it.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Flash Fiction:

The only extraordinary event in Gerald’s life besides his birth, was his mysterious death.

His mother unexpectedly gave birth to him in a taxi. As the driver radioed for help, she cut the cord with a ragged key edge and abandoned her newborn on the seat.
Gerald left the orphanage at 14, performed unskilled labour for 44 years, and never married or fathered a child. He paid bills, played ponies and wondered occasionally about his mother.

Pulled dead and naked from Lake Erie, someone had written in brown mascara on his back: ‘Poena damni’.

Latin for ‘Pain of the damned’.


E. Ann Bardawill, 2009