Why do we lack imagination?

Why can some see beyond what is given? The day is on the increase and consider how much time is left to do what? Not what you want, that just nets similar results, We lack vision, we that dwindle as there are those that rise. What is your gift? What draws people to you? Twice this week , on two separate occasions two individuals have sought me out for advise. Me, the retard, the one too familiar with feelings of insignificance. The one living on a knife’s edge. Feeling the howling wind blowing through my mind a white noise that leaves me feeling insecure, thinking other people are thinking bad things about me, but I have learn to distance myself from these feeling evoked most times as I am out and about; whereas, within the confines of my home life- I am secure, but once I step out of doors that abiding sense of me not being wholesome enough, the one looking for signs of rejection.

That has to be the hardest task we can set for ourselves, to decipher our human condition, the one uniquely ours- the one we must suffer. I have decide to try to listen more keenly when these feeling erupt so as to record, to notate the words that lead me to feeling trapped, caught, exposed. it’s like I am writing about someone else because I am so foreign  to myself.

But these two people came with different needs. One suffered from addiction, the other borderline insanity. My advise to the one whom has been in and out of rehab, simply leave off institutionalizing herself in these environments where its depressing at best; rather, she should pursue a goal, invest the same amount of time pursuing a some form of certificate, college course; not that that would be the end but only a process whereby she could discover herself. While he, his story was long, lengthy betraying his lack of insight, his inability to see the patterns and where they were leading him; my recommendation was he has to disconnect from his thinking, via mediation, fasting martial arts.

But I make it all seem simply, but there was value in these exchanges. I like counseling people; my reference is always my own battling wits trying to keep me sane. I do so only through diligence, but that gives me too much credit. Is there a such thing as grace? I believe there is and it seems my whole life has been graced by some benevolent feeling. But just as well there has been that human stain, the other side that makes me take heed.

Writing is my balm. Though I am afraid I have not larger subject than myself.

Seeing how we are not an island unto ourselves we must move in circles that allow for transformation

We can not alter our reality by ourselves, we need the group. That special dynamics that creates change. I have exhausted myself trying to devise a plot line, some story or another that will lift my life, but that is a bottomless well down which I have threw countless pennies wishing my life away.

 

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I don’t have direct answers, but indirectly I am thinking I must increase my circle of influence. Maybe that’s what they mean when they saying thinking outside the box when we step away from the four sided hell we have adopted for living. Every direction of the compass brings us due north of our potential. Go West, young man where you will find other like minded people whom are just as excited to see you thinking like you think but suddenly their thoughts are validated by your thoughts and you suddenly marvel at the perplexity of a dandelion, how it flowers and then dissolves into those myriad seeds that float on the wind propelled by our breath.

I want more people in my life. I no longer seek solitude; too many years thinking separatists thoughts. I wish to rejoin the union; this is my state of the union address.

To think it began we my need to communicate with others via word press, such an easy format nearly idiot proof proving difficult only when we are pressed to state our view which too often proves more shallow than we would have liked our purported beliefs to be though we make a mess of it we still strive for clarification, that is the beauty: to write ourselves clear.

And today, one thing is clear: I need and want more community, to stand with self-same people wanting community that will form a wave that others can ride.

This may seem off subject, but as a skateboarder I have been accustoming myself to riding switch; which means I have spent years riding from a position that I am comfortable, now I am having to start fresh pushing off the opposite foot forward. At first, it was impossible; it really felt foreign. Though pushed to follow the tried and true, I now push to explore the dis-familiar. When I turn 180 degrees, riding switch my stomach knots up and I feel fear, that feeling that says protect yourself you are losing your balance and I have no collective motor memory to stabilize my body and it feels vulnerable more so because the other way I ride has also familiarized me with subconscious skills that have me reacting without any direct volition on my part.

What started this need was simply me trying to learn how to faki, which is an act one does in a half pipe- roll up then roll back. This has always proved sketchy for me; hence, I hit on the idea of making myself familiar with riding this way, why not just fully embrace this what was causing me to hold back.

It’s the same with people, I have avoided them most of my life. Now, I say the opposite and yes it feels dissimilar but also its invigorating. Strange but already i am doing so much more with riding switch, that I feel something newly will evolve from my riding that would have need otherwise had even surfaced. I want more and I will practice making myself more inclusive in group settings.

Nothing is more real than cutting the grass

To brings one’s lawn in-line with other such lawns, but mine has a skewed quality inherently fundamental to my disposition: I like plants more than grass, especially wild, unchecked growth. And I like trees, especially trees that are planted in threes- pyramidal from tall, to middle, to small and then lying beneath them some naturally occurring ground cover.

Consciousness Change

Why would this be important to me?

Or to you?

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Have you thought about it? This idea to change your consciousness?

What does consciousness mean?

Is it so simple as to be what we are conscious of? Let’s take that last sentence and remove the verb to be and restate it. It gets hard when you try to restate something without using those is and ares, but according to E-Prime, a prescriptive version of the English language that disallows usage of the conjugations of to bebe, am, is, are, was, were, been, being.

It forces us to seek for a descriptor of the experience rather than our judgment, making it harder for the writer or reader to confuse opinion with fact.

Would you learn to abide by this prescription if it would change your consciousness? I see value in at least thinking towards understanding what it might impute.

Consciousness appears as an acute awareness. Trying to say what consciousness is without employing this is proves difficult. Nonetheless, I will continue trying to reshape how I express what I feel.

I am greatly challenged, forced to reconsider what I have taken for granted. I am doing something similar with my skateboarding. I have begun riding the opposite way, changing my stance by adopting a position called switch. At first, it felt way off but the more I ride switch the more switch rides me. My goal is to achieve a 360 degree body memory while skateboarding. My goal with learning to write without the conjugation of to be will be self-evident with time.

My consciousness limits what I see. Thereby influencing what I think. I see, therefore I think. What about those voices, those nagging reminders of your insignificance? But they are not voices per sey but somehow your brain reads them out-loud with such statements as this is a threat followed by the need to withdraw. This is a threat, too reductive of a statement. Again, a judgment. Let’s try to discover, or to uncover what occurs when we hear those nagging thoughts; that better, thoughts differ from actual voices in that we think them rather than hear them which maybe qualifies us as neurotic as opposed to psychotic. A thin line divides the two conditions.

When we experience something that feels threatening it matters little if the threat is real when the mind presents it as something that needs to be avoided at all cost. A shut down occurs wherein one is immobilized by hyper consciousness. We are in a pickle…consciousness arises often on similar scenarios that make us uncomfortable. To change consciousness means to see with new eyes. To see? To think? To confuse what we see as a threat makes for bad patterns. I like this forced exclusion of to be. It forces me to rethink my position on any subject.

 

 

 

In pursuance of John Currin, I discovered Alyssa Monks

 

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Whom said that she chased realism until it began to unravel and deconstruct itself. Which brings to mind Andrew Wyeth whom I associate a memory that his work is described as abstract realism. The first time I heard that it klinked, made sense. What makes Mrs. Monk’s work work for me is that first off the artist herself is beautifully sensual. In order to get the full effect you have to enlarge these works and you either feel something or you move on. Painting for me for years has been a dead sport. Pinterest loads a ton of art but few get me moving to say I like that.

 

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Art is that simple, it’s either you sit for a spell trying to discern whats behind the feeling evoked by the art or on you move. As for me, I want to examine what I know about art by writing about art: my favorite subject. You could say I am passionate; is it OK that I am so sophomoric in my pronouncements, using such simple terms as like or dislike. But to me it begins there, then you delve deeper but you still may come up short.

I am child playing with the idea of writing, making myself vulnerable by exposing how weak is my knowledge, but I would have to believe I could strengthen myself over time, evolve a critical style. But isn’t that the beauty of blogging, to be behind the eight ball but to hope the other guy misses the shot. Let’s try that again blogging is an equal opportunity employer, the best will rise to the top. But what does that mean to be the best, that sounds like you want others to fail? No, to be the best means you are at the top of your game. Let’s take another analogy current with my thinking this idea of setting sail; whence comes the wind, from what direction because without wind we flounder upon the flat sea.

In some way, I want to tackle this subject of figurative painting because it seems so untouched, less about content but more about revenue. I like this place I have grounded myself up against, this place too familiar, this place where I have to consort with my soul. We are better known for what we can’t do than for what we might do. What might I do had I the chance? delimits placed upon our chance of succeeding are internal. Why do we think we must be runners before we can even walk. Walk god damn you I tell my feet, you are in competition with no one. Though as  a writer, I despoil my chances by not trying. We all want to come off sounding smart, but why not accept at a certain level we are all stupid. And that some people may seem more smart but not smart like you think, like they have some advantage. No, smart like they realize how stupid it is to try to be other than who you are. Let me relate a terrible conversation yesterday between myself and this person whom in total identifies with Christ. To listen to him, to be witness to his beatific smile brings out of my normal civic self and suddenly I am attacking his point of view because as I explained it to him all messages are delivered through a medium, such as the TV, or a painting. And that he was using Christ as a medium to express himself. But if Christ was in front of me, I truly believe Christ would be Christ not Christ speaking through God- a medium.

That it was strange to speak with him because there seemed lacking an over-mind, someone partially detached from believing totally what he is saying.

He got defensive and suddenly he didn’t look so beatific, he looked downright hostile. And I thought OK this is real, but at that point it took some time to normalize ourselves away from this defensive mode. It’s like I can’t help it. In my youth I cutted my intellectual teeth on having discussions about just about anything with two individuals whom were intellectually inclined and on separate occasions these two minds shaped my mind and sharpened my dialectic skills where in one of us would introduce a thesis and the other would counter but the goal was always to reach some sort of synthesis. In that my truth, their truth was inconsequential what mattered was which truth could win out this particular argument. We argue about such things what is the difference between truth and facts but these types of discussion were part of leveling the playing field, discerning meaning from words before we could move forward. It seems I have more to say on this subject but will leave well enough alone for now.

 

 

Continued discourse upon John Currin

 

 

 

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Vicente Romero above painting Contemplative is much too derivative of Mary Cassatt awashed in that suffused light that harkens after an impressionistic style emptied of content because the impressionist were a mod moody mob that shouted fire in a subdued theater. And step into any local art gallery and you can see dozens upon dozens of artist adopting a similar palette. Maybe what it is is that I am more receptive to line, clear lines that cast a net over my mind telling me what I see in clear terms.

But really, hardly any of these painters would I hang on my walls being so limited of space I don’t even allow for plants indoor. John Currin leaves out back ground to move forward his agenda. Line is a demonstrable fact, maybe line is more tied to reason than blotched color. Though I am highly receptive of Marry Cassatt, hers is an honesty that is at once wholesome.

 

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There is lacking in other painters this ability to narrate a story with line. I give these two below examples as painters narrating quiet marvelously.

 

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To begin to even feel half of what the full potential of Titian’s Venus of Urbino you must push at the picture to make it appear in its larger form, then study it or better yet allow it to mezmorize you.

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