Happy Whatever.

Its not the Holiday that counts. Just the "Happy", right?

Fight, Forgive and Forget

Forgiving. In the season of giving. That's an interesting thought. Forgiving is one of the best gifts there is to give. To others.  To forgive yourself. Forget about it, it's no big deal. Your sins have already been forgiven and forgotten anyway.

Battle Ignition

Alors je remonte, re-regarde mon "oeuvre" que je pensais, quand je l'ai finie, avoir fait pas si mal, et je vois une merde. J'ai honte, c'est une merde totale, une laideur. Un sketch a moitie reussi. A moitie foire. Je suis decu de moi. Je me dis que jamais je peux presenter pareil cadeau de noel avec la tete haute. Mais je realise que pour le reste de la famille, c'est un "beau dessin". Un dessin "que eux seraient pas capable de faire". Mais je m'en fous que eux soient capable ou que je sois la seule personne au canada capable de faire des lignes avec du charbon, la verite, c'est comme celle des tisserands d'or. C'est une laideur, et je dois essayer de le refaire. Mieux.

Parce que quand on est artiste et on se fait complimenter pour des oeuvres qu'on aime pas, on se sent insulte. Ca fait chier. "C'est une merde mais tout le monde fait semblant que c'est un tas d'or." Tout le monde ment, tout le monde ferme les yeux. Pour afficher de l'art, il faut que ca soit bien. Le "meaning" c'est bon, mais le sketch il est pas pour moi, alors le meaning, on s'en contre-calisse.

Bon. J'm asseois. J'ouvre iTunes. Putain que mon ordi est lent. Je mets mes ecouteurs, je vais chercher un verre d'eau. Non, je bois du robinet de la salle de bain. Bon. Nouveau papier. Mon sketchbook est en bas. Je trouve pas; papier d'imprimante. 2 poignees de glosettes. Une autre gorgee d'eau de robinet. De la musique rock.

Let's Go

X-out-mas

MERRY CHRISTMAS. Consider the meaning of that sentence. What's really important about the 25th of december, for all of us MeGen. kids? The new meaning of christmas; selfless parents buying selfish children gifts that won't ever make them happy. "Be happy, at least on the 25th, if not on every other day of the year." Often by the end of the day we can't stand the distant relatives that came to visit us and we can't wait for they day to be over and for them to leave. "Merry Christmas indeed." If we can't stand them for one day, then why bother? Tradition? Is tradition important? Doing what we've always done? Why not question tradition, question values and try to find some meaning in these things?

They say I'm trying my hardest not to conform. They're absolutely right. I don't know what I want. I am a chameleon. I'm always changing my mind, depending on  how good the people around me are at arguing their points. Right now I really don't like christmas. I'm making pitchers for my family. Its all I can do. So that's what I'll do, I guess.

...

And I keep contradicting myself.

At any rate, be happy tomorrow, guys. Everyone that I know. On both sides of the ocean. Everyone that I've met, everyone that I remember and  everyone that I forgot. BRIKO, j'espere que tu vas apprecier les cadeaux du pere noel, mais je souhaite que tu apprecies les cadeaux plus nombreux de tes parents. Merci. Merci pour les skis neufs. Merci d'etre ne. Thanks for giving me the change to meet the world. To realise that I'm a little piece of nothing. Honestly, thank you. I couldn't have done it alone. I still have this foolish worldview. I still don't know who I am or what I want or even if I want anything. I don't want gifts for "christmas" gifts suck. When you're happy, its nice, when you're not, you still have to pretend that you are and be nice. When you don't want gifts you have to pretend that you did and are happy for the presents you got.

I've got enough gifts already. One of them cost almost 50 000$ Enough to last a lifetime. And it wasn't from Santa. So honestly, thank you. I appreciate all that you've done and all that you've never been thanked for. I'm at fault. These eyes are not for seeing. They judge, though.

Merry Christmas. Be happy tomorrow. Sleep well. I made you a gift I thought you'd like. For once.

Finding Peace

Have you ever experienced something odd, something you think you understand but at the same time don't quite know how it happened or whether or not it was real?

... I guess you must have.

Earlier tonight - which actually was the early morning, I got up from my chair, feeling a back discomfort, and decided that it would get better if I tried to sit on the toilet. But as soon as I stood up, a strong pain seized me in the lower back and in my kidneys? The kidney area? Anyway, I stumbled into the bathroom but could find no relief, and the pain seemed to get worse. So I came back out and decided to lie on the ground, and did.

What kind of pain was this? Was this a back seizure? Is this what my mom endured for 3 whole days before her friend finally forced her to go to the hospital? I couldn't believe it. It was so painful I couldn't even shit. I rolled around, scraping the carpet, then crawled onto the sofa and lay there, twitching only with my feet and feeling nothing but amazement that one could go on living with what I thought was intolerable. And the more I thought about it, the more it hurt, and stretching didn't help for anything.

So I breathed, and tried to think of the void. The white void, to be exact. Almost instantly I felt a bit better, but then when I paused to celebrate the seizure hit me like a truck, and I was twitching and muttering again. But I was thinking too. It worked. So...

I jumped down from the sofa. Sat cross legged. Put my hands together. Closed my eyes. Tried to regulate my breathing, it was really hard at first because all I wanted was to breathe as much and as fast as I could. I thought of the void, of my hara "fan" visualizer of energy circulating. I put both hands over my stomach, tried to push energy into my midsection, but it didn't work. So I just breathed. I started to feel better. I quieted my breath. Soon it was easy. The pain was like a throb in the back of my mind. Then it vanished. I opened my eyes and it was 3.

What had happened? Had I fallen asleep? I did not dream, and I was,  for trying desperately to shut out the real world, strangely aware of it. Of my slow breathing. Of the dissipating pain, too, at first. But then only the void, and only ever so often. I don't think I thought of anything... Was this meditation? or just sleeping in the sitting position? I thought it mattered, but it doesn't. The importance is that I was able to defeat the seizure and get rid of my tiredness.

I can't help but wonder what might have gone wrong with my brother at 3-4 am EST on a Sunday. Are those things possible? I don't believe in that, but If I was able to rid  myself of pain through meditation, or forced sleep, then why not?

A Lesson In History, Part 1

The year 2009 is nearing the end. I guess its about time we turn back the pendulum, no? So here goes, long story made short.

 September 3-8, 2008
Copenhagen, Danmark
Nyhavn port


I had gone to see it the night before, I could barely make out the blue letters on what I would later learn was called the stern. It seemed so unreal, so massive compared to all the other sailing ships I'd seen before, huge, and taller than it was long, with two masts. A man was patrolling the deck, fixing things here and there. I was scared. The Fryderyk Chopin. My house for the next year. My school for the next year. My job for the next year. My life for the next year. It was strangely compelling, epic, mysterious, threatening.


The next morning, I asked my mother to shave my head. I dragged my massive dufflebag through the streets, I looked for others, but there was none. Tourists stared. I was a tourist too.


I met a young man with a CREW sweater. He was walking towards the ship, so I assumed he was a crew member. He was a student. I felt awkward, but he told me he was from Ontario. His name was Geoff. He's at UBC or UVic now, I dunno. He's a good guy.


A man grabbed my bag, so I mistook him for the director when he helped me on board. He was Gabi's father. My room was the first down the stairs. A tiny three man room, as wide as a double bed. I made the most of the space, I picked the top bunk. My roommates were Morgen and Scott. I've always wondered what they think of me. Anyway, when we were done, I walked back to the Kongens Nytorv square with my mother. We went our separate ways. I went back to the ship and sulked as everyone else was off for a meal with their parents. Some would see us off on Saturday morning.


We trained for the rest of the week, tied knots, climbed, learned about lines, how to throw the heaving lines, and so on. I was introduced to my team; Scott, Morgen, Cathy, Gabi and Alice. Together we were Watch 4. There's a polish superstition about setting sail on a friday, and so we waited until 12:00 am Saturday before leaving. By then, it had started to drizzle. It was by far our worst procedure. We fumbled and struggled and the professional crew had to help us with everything. After we had left the crowd of tired parents on the rainy Copenhagen dock, we rushed to bed. Watch 4's first shift was at two in the morning. I was tired but excited. It rained for the entire two hours that we were on deck. Michal explained the tasks. Watch for other boats. Green means starboard, Red means port. white lights high for the bow, low for the stern. When we got out of the busy copenhagen port area, the captain decided to set a sail. Thus I was the first to man the helm, and my teammates set the first sail, they were on portside, so it must have been the main stay. And then our watch was over. Wet, we made our way into our beds. I was still pretty excited. Looking back, I don't really know what I was stressing over. Life on a boat is fundamentally peaceful.

Dear Santa, this is what's wrong with the world...

Step 1 : Google White Man's Burden
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_White_Man's_Burden

The following post is a critique of this blog:
http://problemsfree.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html

I will go in structured order until I am inspired to rant.
...

Actually, I don't fee like finishing this complaint right now.  But it pisses me off that people say garbage like "These people need to be saved by OUR god!" The world has been damaged enough by the good intentions of pretentious Whites. "Go to their country and sell fruit and vegetables!" It puts in value the ignorance of these westerners... Africa has it's own markets, it's own supermarkets, it's own food stands. To go there and give away food would damage their economy and hurt them in the long run, and to sell it would pose a myriad of other problems.

It pisses me off that people turn to God for solutions to disasters. Humans are not for sale. True. "Let's help these children because love is the answer to everything kind" "Angels, they're everywhere. They love us so much that they spend their time looking after us. Making sure we are doing the right thing and keep our promises and live up to the plans God has given us all." "Help fight hunger." "Spread love through the world." "Stop whale fishing." "There is no such thing as an unwanted child in the eyes of God." "Face your problems, ask God for help. "Disabled people in need of help to fulfill their dreams, make the change." We all belong together. "We need everyone's support to change the world. Believe and miracles will happen."


.... This person really pisses me off. Partly because she/he is right, partly because she doesn't have any solutions and yet preaches, and finally because I know that telling people what is the right way to live doesn't do anything positive. And she also doesn't know the whole story behind whatever. The only thing it does to us is make us feel bad about watching a picture of a boy eating shit right out of a cow's ass. What about the cameraman who snapped this picture? Yay if he was trying to send a message. And also, I really am pissed off about all that positivism. The world right now, I think, is a hard place to live in. People die abandoned in ditches all the time. Prostitutes, homeless people, salarymen working the gears of life like a donkeys round the grain "moule." Rich people too pathetic to find their own happiness. Rich people so embedded in their world that they don't care to see anything else. Poor folk with large families and small wallets. People that suffer. People that walk on. People that pretend not to see. People that can't see. If there is a God, he says "help yourselves." 


I'm tired of the media, tired of this worthless illusion of what the world is. Africa, Senegal, poor countries are more than whatever misery we see in shows or pictures. And besides, there's little that we can do as outsiders to help these people; to truly reach a long lasting "better world", undesirables must either be bleached from the world, or those countries that struggle with these kinds of problems must get the political, financial and social strength to do it themselves. Thus, Foreign aid offers limited relief, and rightly so. If we are unwilling to help every single human being, then we either have to help only those we see and acknowledge that we are unjust, or help them help themselves. It is not the white man's burden nor the West's place to help "lesser" societies or to raise them out of catastrophe.


Does that mean that we should just let them be? ... Maybe, I don't know what else to do. Thinking "the world is a terrible place" "Or people shouldn't do that", or saying "We have to act!" but not saying how or when or what or where or who doesn't get us anywhere. What should we do, then? Hmmm. Change our perceptions. See the good things that are worth preserving, rather than the bad things that need to be destroyed. We can't destroy them anyway. Not without going beyond ourselves. 


Of course, I'm just a kid, and I also saying "This is what needs to be done". I'm perhaps not being as dramatic though. My thoughts are immature, but I know that I'm right. We don't know nearly enough about the world to complain that it's a bad place to live. Maybe it is. But if I lived in a terrible place, then I don't think I'd focus on the terrible things. That would make me just want to fight the westerners, if I knew what was going on in their backyards. And then where would I be? Just another generation of oppressors born from oppression.

Culture Clash and tatoos

Your tattoo image is nice, the flames are bold and evocative, but again, I find it curious when someone uses the images and symbols of another culture; do we know what these things mean? Do you feel like they represent you? Are they youre symbols, or symbols you wish were yours?


Yeah, these represent me. I didn't do a good job of explaining it in class; but I wanted a tatoo that revealed something about myself and my struggles. Perhaps that's why I ended up only making a small thing; I would have liked a full body tatoo but I believe that these should have some kind of meaning, and I couldn't find one until 2 days before the due date. The spiral is a circle made of interlacing "white" and black; that's a modified version of my personal logo, the SPEARHEAD, and these represent the two races that are within me, but white is transparent. That's because I really only have one culture. On first impressions, I'm black, and later, I'm seen as white. Never both. The sets of lines are called trigams, they are the chinese version of the cardinal directions, but they are more than that. I took a long time to decide what to put there because I wanted something from a culture that in no way represents me (I think japanese writing is cooler but I have delved into the karate world and also read manga and have a japanese dictionary and am generally interested with samurai and ninja and traditional architecture and how japanese culture is progressing towards westernization...) So the trigams. These are cardinal directions, so they are paths, they were the many options that I have to choose from, and myself as the SPEARHEAD Whirl in the middle , unable to commit to one. Also, the trigams refer to my dissatisfaction to my culture; I litterally would have to borrow my father's culture, because that's how little I am connected to it. Thus the best way to explain that was to borrow something, in this case the trigams because of their other significances. The crawling tatoo is something I've always wanted, and I wanted something that would look visually interesting. The fact that it was supposed to depict a dragon in flames has little to do with me beyond it's asthetic value; If I was an animal, I'd be a snake or a phoenix.


Perhaps once I wished I was different, but nowadays I'm coming to terms with these difficulties and what they mean for me. Thats to answer the last question.

Steampunk

Traditionnaly refers to fiction novels set in an alternate victorian reality, featuring "the path not taken" in matters of world politics or science. Steampunk fiction is traditionally less dystopian than it's futuristic counterpart, cyberpunk. Suprisingly, Steampunk fiction is very present in today's mainstream entertainment industry; "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" movie and comic book are considered steampunk, Disney's "Atlantis "but also a variety of anime such as Fullmetal Alchemist, novels such as "The Difference Engine" or the various works of Jules Vernes.

Various artists have stylized modern items into a steampunk genre - these range from clothes to toys to various useful items - a link!
http://www.coolest-gadgets.com/20080613/the-10-coolest-steampunk-gadgets-ever/

Steampunk fiction often incorporates various gadgets (such as the steamwheel in Steamboy) of complex, mechanical looking design - imagine perhaps, a steampowered version of Da Vinci's gliders.

... I see a need to archive this link, so...
http://www.annabotelho.com/?p=534

Microwave Friendly

This is a hilarious picture. The idea of using a microwave as a way to commit murder had never occured to me. Although the actual microwaving (and the subsequent vaporization of the body's water) of a living creature would likely be quite horrifying.

Hmmm... to microwave a pet in a gallery as a way to bring animal cruelty out to the unavoidable surface would be an interesting way to spark a revolt against  animal cruelty... political art. If it was so, I would microwave a live kitten, or a puppy since those are the cute things most likely to spark a vivid reaction. Either that or a dying, suffering animal just asking to die... therefore highlighting that the ends do not actually justify the means, plus all the anti-animal cruelty propaganda.

The Fire and the Flames

Earlier today we went to Florian's house in west Dawson for meal and a percussion session, and just to chill around. He's got a nice log cabin. Anyway, on the way back he noticed that the car was making funny sounds, but we still drove down towards dawson. About a kilometer away from the Yukon riverbank, Florian looks out the window, stops the car on the road and "GET OUT" he says. I couldn't find the handle to the door, so I had to wait until Sophie and France (got caught in the doorhandle and had to be pulled out by Florian) got off on the driver side. We jumped out and ran away as the car and the ground beneath it glowed orange and flickered, and bits of frame fell into the snow under the vehicle and lit in cinders. After a while, Florian crept back up to it in the ditch, looked underneath, and came back. We waited, not knowing if it would explode but the fire gave out. Florian explained that the gas tank had been leaking onto the exhaust and the heat finally lit up the fuel.

He offered to take us into Dawson anyway, but France suggested that we walk, so we walked down and took pictures and crossed Florian on the ice, he on his ATV heading back out of town.

Coming home I didn't really know what to draw into my sketchbook, and finally decided to do that scene. When Sophie saw it she told me that it should be a creative response, so it will be one. Car burning with wildlife scenery and Dawson lights in the distance, Ink, watercolor and ballpoint pen. By SpearHead.

Leekspin

These are called internet phenomena.
Wikipedia them if you want. I did.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_phenomenon

Anyway, this particular one is called "Leekspin". It comes from episode 2 of the japanese anime series BLEACH. In the original show, the scene is a running gag in which Orihime Inoue (the featured character) describes how she plans to make a dinner that everyone else thinks would be barely edible. The four frames were put in a loop to the finnish folk song Lleva's Polka by Lolituma, thus the other name, "lolituma girl" The 6 lines are essentially scat singing, and have no actual meaning. The flash animation has been commented on for it's hypnotizing quality. The video became quite popular and has been remixed and released multiple times with CG animated characters, as one would a music video. See "Holly Dolly"

Anyway, the original clip here:
http://www.leekspin.com/
It actually features a timer!

Inspired Anonymous

I was reading through AIRGEAR, two years ago and came across an interesting poem. I was around chapter 49-63... Anyway, I only remembered two lines from the poem, but I found it on the net. As it were, it was actually a fusing of multiple poems together... here they are, acessed through another blogger;
feed://leopedia.com/blog/?feed=rss2


Here I lie in stinky vapor,
Because some bastard stole the toilet paper,
Shall I lie, or shall I linger,
Or shall I be forced to use my finger.

Before he graduated to be a poet, he wrote this…

Here I sit
Broken hearted
Tried to shit
But only farted

Someone who had a different experience wrote,

You’re lucky
You had your chance
I tried to fart,
And shit my pants!

Perhaps it’s true that people find inspiration in toilets.

I came here
To shit and stink,
But all I do
Is sit and think.

There are also people who come in for a different purpose…

Some come here to sit and think,
Some come here to shit and stink,
But I come here to scratch my balls,
And read the bullshit on the walls…

Toilets walls also double as job advertisement space…….

(written high upon the wall)
If you can piss above this line, the Singapore Fire Department wants you.

Ministry of Environment advertisement.

We aim to please!
You aim too! Please

On the inside of a toilet door:
Patrons are requested to remain seated throughout the
entire performance.

And finally, this should teach some a lesson…
Sign seen at a restaurant:
The hands that clean these toilets also make your
food…please aim properly.

Connected Through the Void

First of all, we should try to shake the myth. The internet does not act as a tool that brings people together or connects them; only a small fraction of the world can even access the internet. Among us that can, it can let us roam freely to data from other continents, but from my point of view, the internet is like... the shredding of everything we value in real life. The internet is perceived as "anonymous" - or was, until recently- a place where you could be whatever you wanted to be, and put on and switch masks as you saw fit. No one had to know who you were, where you came from, what kind of cereal you ate in the morning.

But that's not actually what's going on. With a little effort, even casual surfers can track down people they know using google and facebook. And then, there are the randomized (or not so randomized) advertisements,  gimmicks, e-mail buddies you've never met before, purchase tracking devices, and countless more ways to screw or find or spy on a person than I can imagine. Our world really is being sucked into computers, and surprisingly, we're going along with it, while at the same time lamenting our loss of privacy. It's as if rich and modern citizens from rich and modern countries have somehow become addicted to the net, much like one becomes addicted to cigarettes, so that it becomes a necessary evil...

This is something that less developed countries have better than we do. With all our time and focus being drawn into the codified void, what happens  to our physical reality? We really are being shackled into following this new social phenomena, "connection through the void"

I did a little research, and was flabbergasted to find that people are actually finding ways to make use of cybershit like virtual reality practical, for teaching, or rehab. I always though I was a pretty techie guy, but as it turns out, I'm analog after all. Computers are nice for entertainment, instant gratification of a desire for information, and e-mail. (which really is instant gratification of mail sending). I was horrified when I saw all the positive, peer reviewed articles on the OCAD database that had to do with the benefits of VR. Online games? not in this lifetime, not unless I was being held at gunpoint, and even so, it would have to be a pretty big gun.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. 


Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
His story here: http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/flanders.htm

We've all heard about this poem before, it has become something of a symbol for remembrance day. The first verse is featured on the Canadian 10$ bill. Let's focus on two things: A though, as usual in appreciation for what was gained by those that fought long and hard, those that died, those that lived but were not spared. The cost of victory was high; once, twice, but I and countless others sacrificed nothing for that victory. That is what we should be thankful for. Not that they fought - the state of the world at the beginning of the 20th century meant that fighting was inevitable, and plus they did not fight for our sake - but that they fought and died in our stead.

Also, I think of all those things which we are vaguely told about, and have always assumed, like this poem. It is a remarkable poem, but I did not know that it was longer than the version on the 10$. A thought out there, a shot in the dark, for all those things we were ignorant of, things that are vital but no one cares to learn.

...Take up our quarrel with the foe

No Ghost Just A Shell

Phiplippe Parreno and Pierre Hyughes went to Japan and bought the copyrights to AnnLee, a manga character. She was cheap; the price of a manga figure relates to the complexity of their character traits and how well they can adapt to a storyline and "survive" in the long term. Since AnnLee had no particular traits to begin with, she was destined to be scrapped. The two artists saved her life and set her to work. She was offered free of charge to artists who wished to use her for their own stories. "No Ghost Just A Shell drains her of her soul and makes her a vessel. She also raises interesting questions about the artmaking process; the "same" image appears again and again, but it begins to show some difference. Is her shell really always the same? What is the role of the people who operate it? Are they subjective? How does identity come into being for characters in cinema and art? She is the Mickey Mouse of today, a commercial unit, a shell meant to be inhabited by others. 


She has been saved by culture in order to be exploited by it, and she has been invented by culture in order to fuel it. That great symbol of fuel, the Shell Oil trademark, an arbitrary sign, replaces the word “shell,” itself an arbitrary sign, in M/M’s poster for the show. Arbitrary, perhaps, but essential to remember: I mean, wasn’t our desire for oil part of what got us into this mess? And wasn’t controlling others in order to save them part of it, too? It’s hard to know, and it’s hard to say.


This entire post was more or less directly quoted from the conclusion of this article:
http://linedandunlined.com/2004/09/15/the-problem-with-posters/ 

which I found by Google Imaging the topic after I read this document, which looks like an artist statement:
http://www.mmparis.com/noghost.html
Some notes by Philippe Pareno:
http://www.airdeparis.com/pann.htm

I want to write down this link too. Archive.
http://www.stretcher.org/archives/r3_a/2003_02_10_r3_archive.php

There's a No Ghost Just A Shell T-shirt. I'd like to have one.

Her Morning Elegance

The guy is called Oren Lavie, more info on him here;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oren_Lavie
And some on his recently popular stop motion music video, Her Morning Elegance (why write it yourself if you can just tell someone where to find them, and let them see a less diluted version...
http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=99738779&blogID=467348012
And finally, the music video itself:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY

...I like his musical style. But since this has gone mainstream, he's gonna get noticed if he hasn't already...

Ownership

Remove yourself from your personal values and assumptions. They cloud your judgement. I have come to an interesting discovery today, and that is appreciation and understanding of what it means to be #1. Humans dominate the planet. We are the primera, the numero uno. Our actions catalyze huge changes in the world around us.

My entire life I have thought of humans as tenants on earth, with a condominum much larger than that of any other species, but I have always thought that earth does not belong to us; it precedes us and will outlast us, and thus we are it's creation - and that though we share this relationship, it is not ours in the way that we possess our parents (our mothers, our fathers) but rather, our creation has little intent behind it; we are an "accidental" creation, at best, though it would be better to make a comparison  to a woman suddenly being with child despite still being a virgin, i.e. having taken no steps, intentional or otherwise, to create. Like all things, living or no, we are the growth of the planet, and it really does not care or consider us when it unleashes a cataclysmic disaster on a densely populated human settlment; to the planet, the space is her own, and it is leased to us at our own risk, like a decrepit apartment. It is most certainly cheap and easy to acquire, but not safe. (interestingly, when we buy a house, we rarely choose the "cheap and easy" option, but when choosing a settlement humans have little concept of the long term.) In this sense, it might be safe to surmise that the planet "owns" us.

But now I have been exposed to a thought: what if we, humans, owned the planet? That is certainly the way we've been acting up to now. And besides, there are none to tell us otherwise. There was, once long ago a pretender, a follower of the "path not taken", a conscious species much like our own, but Darwin's theory took care of that. They were extinguished, either as a result of their own inferiority, or because we though it unsightly to share the throne. We are at the top of the food chain, the kings, if you will, of the natural world. We are in fact so far ahead that it is unlikely that any creature in existinance or as a future mutation of any other species in this era will ever surpass us. Nothing stops us from laying waste to mile after mile of our territory, or polluting our own water resources. That is the extent of our power. If we are the kings, then the rest of the world is are our subjects. And what does it matter if a peasant goes hungry or dies in the eyes of a king? As long as the king himself does not bear witness to the suffering of the peasant, whatever happens to him is irrelevant to the life of the lord. I would view animals in much the same way. No matter how many of them die, or what happens to the ecosystems they live in, if we are not affected, why should we be concerned? Cruelty is natural. And the Strong rule. Let the weak argue that that isn't the way the world works. They're dead meat anyways.

Twisted Metal

Okay, so we went on a dump run last thursday, and today we went out to have our findings crushed flat by steamroller - which each of us got to drive! It was cold though.

So there's only one important part of this post: Pictures!

Relationships

Serial Photography looks at the relationships between photographs. Every time we look at an image we are comparing it to another, or a history of images. But placing it next to some other image may highlight a key feature or theme, like the "Wine and Cheese" work for 2D.

And so the class was spent assembling pictures through photoshop. And as it were, I happen to have drawn a landscape with ink this morning at 3am, and I realize that the pairing of ideas may be complimented by the pairing of scans of a single image. This ink sketch uses techniques inspired from Sophie's inkwork, but the heavy use of line is my personal preference.... The joining of scans however, is not.

Logo1

My first official looking logo... It's of semi-pro quality, if I may say so myself... It was commissioned in august by a friend of my mother, and I totally forgot about it... And then I deleted the file by accident, but I had a rough scan, which I used as a base, then applied vector paths, one for each segment, and clipped layers of color into the design. Like this, it looks cool and can be modified - which is what they wanted, something that can be made as big as a banner or as small as a businesscard.

Anyway, it's not so much of a company as a volunteer organization, so of course I'm not getting paid. But I'm glad I did it, I had to learn more about photoshop, and that is always good. And it's a good cause; a group that collects and gives away winter clothing to children without the means...

Culinary Creation #1

My first ever dish. Yahoo. Or rather, the first ever dish that i've made from scratch, and without a recipie that I know of. It's Chicken Cheddar Fricassee, and happens to be a derivative (and very different) form of the chickenburger with fries I was about to make. It's all because one of my pots is of terrible quality. Fearing that the potatoes would stick, I put oil in the pan, but they stuck anyway. So I put the potatoes in the same pan as the grilling chicken, and went from there.

1 chicken breast, cut into those small rectangularish pieces
1 garlic unit (whatever the name is, I'm no cook) diced as small as possible
1 Potato, diced
Onions, diced
1/2 bell pepper, diced
1 green onion,
MTL steak spice
Cheddar cheese, grated
Serves one.

Mushrooms woulda been good too.

So after I combined the garlic-chicken and onion-potato, I mulled over what to do, and France came and put some MTL steak spices on the "thing" So I put in some veggies, let it finish cooking (my potatoes never fully cook with this method, but that's ok, I like them crunchy. They woulda turned out better if I'd used a better pan... Anyway.) Add the cheese, let it melt mix the mixture... Do all of this more or less to your own fancies, and you've got yourself a Chicken Cheese Fricassee! It's actually quite good, I was suprised.

PinkRam Jam (2 different kinds)

Well, I went to the grocery store 3 times this morning, burnt my inital pudding (cooked pudding, who the hell came up with that?) and then ran out of milk.

But I did make another one of those greek pasta salad (and another chunk of Feta cheese gone :) and I also made the trifle thing from last time, and it was good. I played the harmonica and the weird drum thingy... France told me I should look up harmonica techniques on the web... maybe I'll do that. And I learned to play more of the guitar; now I know the chords for E, E- G, C, C-, D, D-, A, A-, F and B and my fingers are sore from playing... And I'm excited for next week's Jam, and I'll try to sing next time (I have a sneaking suspicion that they tried to make me sing a song to make sure I wouldn't sing the other ones, but I didn't feel moved by the song and couldn't come up with anything good... And also sang later on, half to myself. Also I can't perform on demand.)

This marks the 4th, no, the 5th  White Ram Jam and Brunch and it was also Rosie's birthday today. Looking back from an academic point of view however, I might as well have stayed in bed all day.

Pink

Have you ever really liked a song or an artist and then looked up the lyrics to one of their songs and been suprised at their content? Take this song for example; In The Flesh:

So ya thought ya might like to go to the show.
To feel the warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow.
I got me some bad news for you, Sunshine.
Pink isn't well, he stayed back at the hotel,
And he sent us along as a surrugate band.
We're gonna find out where you fans really stand.
Are there any queers in the theatre tonight?
Get 'em up against the wall. -- 'Gainst the wall!
And that one in the spotlight, he don't look right to me.
Get him up against the wall. -- 'Gainst the wall!
And that one looks Jewish, and that one's a coon.
Who let all this riffraff into the room?
There's one smoking a joint, and another with spots!
If I had my way I'd have all of ya shot.


Well I actually like Pink Floyd very much, and to tell the truth it doesn't really bother me to like a song that has strong racist undertones, because my liking the song has nothing to do with lyrics (and I have found a suitable excuse to justify my liking it) : For context's sake, THE WALL is a story about "Pink", and in a series of songs sung from his own point of view, he imagines himself in a hallucination to be a facist dictator, and orders his fans to go into neighboring villages to slaughter "indesirables".  This series includes songs like In The Flesh, Run Like Hell, Waiting for the Worms, Stop. The album producer alledgedly hired real skinheads for the shooting, which apparently nearly got out of hand.

...

Google and wikipedia have become my lifelines to knowledge. I've been exposed to more random and not so random information in this past month than in all of last year! (though that might be due to me travelling around the world on a tall ship...) And to be honest, when it's about such small things its not important that they be ultra true and accurate.

I found a good website for explosives, but you have to pay to access all of the e-books they have. So that's that.

My Camera Is Bigger Than Yours

This picture comes from thursday. That night I headed out to the other side of the Yukon river to take pictures - I was inspired by an explanation by Charles about meshing twin photographs with different exposures... And have been trying to get to the site since that class a week and a half ago. Finally, I dragged myself out there on thursday, clear skies and all - and it was so cold, I set up the thing, aimed the camera and decided to take a low exposure one first, snapped the shot - and nothing happened. So I packed up and spent a half hour trying to get the attention of the ferry with whistling and Flashlight S.O.S. codes. I had to wait till a car came, in the end. But to be honest, I didn't care at that point. Frozen stiff, I dragged my way back to SOVA and thawed out before heading on home

I'd also like to say that I've made my very first hamburger and fries from scratch today, it was fun and delicious... Lettuce, Tomato, partially fried onions and partially fried mushrooms (they were slimy since they're a week old, I'll make stir fry tomorrow) and orange pepper. And pan fried potato cubes. I shoulda put salt in there for next time. And I'd like to secure some of that orange spicyness they use at the downtown... Maybe Rosie knows about it.

Here's to the two most superflous posts ever!

Cheese

Do you see this? The plastic container in the middle? It's *a fuckload* of feta. And I still have it!!! 10$! 10$ for half a kilo of feta and I still haven't used it since that first day! What the hell do I do with it now!?

Dust

I stumbled across this very interesting essay; it touches on the portrayal of women in graphic novels and more specifically, on the western prejudice, stereotypes and lack of understanding of Muslim culture through a Marvel X-Men character called "Dust".

http://brokenmystic.wordpress.com/2008/07/07/female-muslim-and-mutant-a-critique-of-muslim-women-in-comic-books-–-part-1-of-2/

To Mr. Inoue Takehiko

Dear Mr Inoue

I'm hoping that you can read english. This is a letter of thanks. I discovered you as a manga artist because of the title "Vagabond" which sounded interesting. Plus it was about a person I've heard about, so it piqued my interest. I admire your ability to exploit themes in your stories, because they are themes that everyone can relate to and yet everyone pulls their own meanings from them. I won't talk about those meanings, because you know them all better than I do. However, I will say one thing; I have a handicapped twin brother, and one of the things I've pulled from REAL is a deeper understanding of what my brother might feel like. But that's not what I'm thankful for, of course.

You see, I like stories, and I like drawing. I'm average at drawing and not very good at writing stories. It's easier to make a drawing than write a story, I suppose. Not too long ago, I liked reading shonen manga, and then I read Ichigo 100%. The ending piqued my interest for stories that make the reader think about his or her own life or appreciate a different take on life, like yours. I decided that those were the kind of stories I wanted to pass on, be it through manga or something else. I'm in art school, right now, in the far north of canada, and a chapter I read at 2am reminded me of my dream. So thank you, for making comics that are meaningful. And for reminding me. You don't have to answer. This page won't show up if you type in japanese. But maybe, for some reason, you'll come across this post and smile in the corner of your mouth. Perhaps your goal was to draw stories that make people think about themselves, too. I'd like to think that.

Gab

The Amputee's Dilemma and the Disabled' Resolve

Following is an exerpt from REAL, by the genius Inoue Takehiko;


I've always got these thoughts racing through my head... "Why did this happen" "Did I do something wrong""How could I have avoided this?""What could have happened to keep them from cutting off my legs?""Was it the doctor's fault?" "The doctor who said it was overwork!" "Couldn't I have prevented it?" Was it fate? If it was all preordained, then the time I spent in my life... All the feeling I poured into running... Was it meaningless?
Aren't you afraid, Yamaguchi-kun? You know you're going to die in a few years... How can you be so strong and brave?

... Have you ever been on a roller-coaster? You're only riding it for a few minutes, right? If you spent the entire ride thinking "only a few minutes" "only so many seconds left until this ride is over..." then what was the point of riding it in the first place?
Nobody knows why we're alive. We don't have the time to bother.
www.onemanga.com/real/22/16

The other cool part of this volume of the manga is chapter 24. Kogawa meets a tatoo artist/wheekchair basketball player with the same rotation plasty surgery as he does, and that man lets him see the path to self acceptance, which is a huge milestone for a person who became disabled. I realize that I play the father's part in my story... But for Kogawa, there is the final step, the most beautiful moment in a while, and it comes on these two pages:
http://www.onemanga.com/Real/24/28/
http://www.onemanga.com/Real/24/29/

... I think I understand my brother a bit more now... but his problem was from before he remembers... he's never walked normally, so he has no memories to miss, nothing to compare to. If it was preordained that he would be handicapped to his feet and hand, then I can only be thankful that he grew up as the handicap developped. That way, I think, is less painful for him who can't use a wheelchair properly, or not as well, since he only has one good hand.

But that too might be foolishness on my part. Perhaps, if he had wanted it badly enough, he would have been able to learn. It's his fault he didn't I know, but I can't help but wonder about my own role in all of this. In retrospect, none of us ever had much faith in him, did we?

...

I always thought the disabled didn't fight. It was convenient for me to think that.
http://www.onemanga.com/Real/38/10/

Social Experiment

Earlier this year I made an interesting discovery: You're walking down an empty street, and since it's Dawson, you walk in the street. That's irrelevant, but its the setting. Anyway, the idea is that if someone, or in my case, a couple, walk along the street in the opposite direction, you might be tempted to look away as they pass by. As I told myself this, we walked closer and I promised myself that I would not look away. But for some reason, our brains do not allow us to look straight ahead unless we are purposefully ignoring the others around me.
Back to the social experiment. I'm walking down the street, promising myself that I won't pretend to occupy myself with some uninteresting object as I pass the unknown couple. Just before we pass each other, both the man and the woman look to my left, pretending to have noticed something interesting on the far side of the road. Despite myself, I glance to the right.

I leave it up to you to assess the significance of this behavior.

Tektonik

Is a relatively new french street dance danced to electro based on techno, hip-hop and rave styles, it started in 2000 in the clubs of southern France, mainly from Club Metropolis. It has become known through online videos like Youtube, but it is still a relatively small movement (author's decision). I, like many others, discovered it through one particular Tektonik video, one of the first good ones...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqRR10Xy3GU
It's a remix of the song "C'est a cause des garcons" (Because of the Boys) by french electropop singer/songwriter YellE (the feminized version of YEL, for You Enjoy Life)

The clothes these guys wear are ridiculous and way too tight, but prejudice aside I  think it's a quite interesting way to dance, having never been exposed to any of this before. It's pretty cool the way they kinda glide at the beginning- !!!
...
I just remembered how badly I danced in senegal... crap. I really dislike these walks down memory lane, and there are so many of them. Say what you want.

Some Assembly Required

Most of my posts are creative responses in and of themselves. But just that is not enough. There is an sign on the wall in our house, that says "snowman" and has a few items of winter clothing underneath it. I laughed when I saw it, and thinking of the man who apparently sold canadian snow to people in Arabia (That must have been a story, because I can't imagine anyone buying something while it is in the process of disappearing with no intention of stopping, nor have I pondered on the meaning of such a story.) imagined an interesting scenario.

Anyway, I went to France, explaining how funny it would be to see a package labeled "Snowman Kit" with the hat, the buttons, eyes, mouth, nose and scarf inside... Some assembly required, of course.

She said to make that a creative response to "winter, or something". Wouldn't it be the creative response to seeing the decoration?

Tilt-Shift

Is a photographic style that makes real life picture appear as tough they were miniature models. The technique involves using a very high aperture setting to create an effect similar to the MACRO shot mode, but with life sized objects. To tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure how that would make it work, but a similar effect can be achieved with photoshop or specially made tilt-shift lenses. You also have to take the shot from above, to make it as if you were looking down at a model.

This link explains in further detail:
[Edit:] The link no longer directs to the site I found


Anyway, here are some pictures to compensate:
And I don't think that last one worked well. It's too far from the subject.

Le Bonheur

Pis la la... le pigeon y'est v'nu m'voir avec son p'tit sourire de pigeon...
Y m'a dis "Tse Patrick, desfois on cherche trop loin.
Le bonheur, dans'l fond, c'est comme du sucre a creme:
Quand t'en veux, t'en fais.

Patrick Groulx

It's a culturally restricted thing; most people don't know how to make "sucre a la creme." So the only way to get some is to make it yourself.

For archiving purposes, here's a recipie... we do have a lot of meets at the residence, after all...
http://www.recettes.qc.ca/recettes/recette.php?id=441&rdj=&pub=

Sucre a la creme... there's nothing like it. although this one has some kind of nut in it...

Justice

As far as Seinen manga go, SIDOOH episode 0 is pretty hard on. It paints a feudal japan just after the americans have made contact, a world of suffering and disease and death.

http://www.onemanga.com/Sidooh/0/02/ And this is my creative response to it.
[Edit:] I guess it's like the half filled glass of water. 

The mother of the protagonists is sick with cholera. A priest persuades her to use her last energy to speak to her sons. She tells them: "This world is unfair. If' you're weak, you die." She's right of course. In the world of men past and current, the weak die, crushed under the powerful, the wealthy, the strong. But her statement is incorrect. In her place I would argue that the world is unforgiving, and that if you are weak, you die. But there is a certain justice in the inescapability of death. All die. Rich, poor, wise and foolish, arrogant and humble, generous and cruel, none can overcome death, postponing it is the most one can hope for.  This justice is universal, but, like she says, it is also universally unfair. (an interesting concept, unfair justice, and not one that we are unaccustomed to, but that's another story.) Death feels for no one, spares no one, no matter how much you try to fight it, or how far you run. It kills the pure and innocent newborn just as easily as the murderer, or the athlete about to reach the highlight of his life.

Hmm... life is like a tunnel, or a dungeon. One way in, one way out.

So is death mostly just or mostly unjust? Not everyone gets to live but everyone gets to die. Conversely, Not everyone deserves to live but everyone gets to die. Remove the invariables, and your answer is this: not all live that should and not all that should live.

That's the definition of injustice. Or at least, inconsistent justice. Another oxymoron that we're more than familiar with.

My Art School

What is it about KIAC SOVA that makes it great?

Hmmm, first off there's only 15 students, 8 of them live in the residence, which is a two story bed n' breakfast rented out by the school. Because of my personal adventures, I think the res is pretty big. But I lived on a boat, so maybe my opinion of things is distorted.

There's the fact that it's located in Dawson City, Yukon. This place is tiny by any standards, but it's more active than a town ten times its size, like the place I come from, Hawkesbury. It's magical here, and pretty removed from the world at large, and everyone sticks together. Many of the people that I've met here are travelers, and a lot of tourists come through. This town is a great place for an arts school; it's very supportive of arts. There's a very active cultural center, they have shows and exhibitions, movie viewings and art lecturers, there's the Artist in Residence program which allows for two pro artists to stay in town for a while, and they showcase art here... Our art class meets at one of the bars on fridays for a Drinking-Drawing club, we have brunches at the residence sometimes, and we watch movies at school. The feel of Dawson is very friendly, there's plenty of things to do, indoor soccer, swimming, hockey, etc...

And then there's the school itself. There's only 4 staff, and that's kind of scary when you see it from the website. But when you get here, it feels pretty natural. The school is small, but it is ridiculously well equipped. Only 1 program is offered, the Foundation Year Art Program, which is entry level fine-arts standard 1st year course across the country. The school is partnered with OCAD, ACAD, Emily-Carr and NSCAD, all pretty big art schools in canada, and any SOVA grad automatically gets advance standing when transfering into them...  but I don't care about that. The fact that the school is open until midnight, the fact that the teachers encourage a very loose, crazy and off-the-charts kind of creativity (compared to some other schools which have a defined line between success and failure) and the fact that we have top-of-the-line equipment and resources (both online and physical) are big pluses.

But really, I just like it here because it feels like home. You can be whatever you want here. Some students are musicians. One girl volunteered for a radio show, one wears crazy and strange things to school. One is really into photography, one likes collage. One guy is a First Nations artist looking to refine his techniques. There's an upper level soccer player who also happens to be good at art. One girl was a broke wanderer in Australia. A couple kids from whitehorse, a few more from the prairies, one from New-Brunswick. I'm an ex-sailor who's into manga and storytelling. Some kids like cooking, some kids like partying, going out to the bars in the week. I like to stay in the residence. No one looks at me twice.

The scenery is awesome too. And then there's the opportunity to learn more about Canada and the First Nations. All our assignments have some kind of cultural context that relates to what went on here. Not just the gold rush, what was there before, and what's been there since, too.

If those aren't good reasons to go to school here, well then there's the adventure, I guess. This place is remote, but it's not disconnected. We have internet, phones, and everyone speaks english, which is a nice  break for me. On top of whatever other language they've learned elsewhere.

... hey if you want some info on the school, don't be afraid to write me an e-mail, my adress is:
stdenis_gab@live.ca   I check it from time to time, but at least once a week.

Speak My Mind

class today talked about the benefits of oral memorizing, and oral culture. As it were, stories told and recounted are both permanent and changing, they are constantly modified and still always stay the same. Much in the same way that the reader ascribes his own meanings to whatever it is he is reading, (and this imagination changes depending on simple things like mood, past experiences, train of though, and culture,) the orator will never tell the same story the same way. Subtle variations of tone, pauses, as well as lighting, the mood of the audience will make every experience unique. Reading a book twice, we notice different things.

Still, it's funny to think of how in this day and age, we are still unable to consider the realities of cultures other than our own. Oral culture is, as today's reading illustrates, valuable and valid. It involves a different way of thinking, but it is not necessarily inferior. Still, these people are referred to as being "illiterate"and there are thus the modern equivalent of missionaries out to "enlighten" them. Their intentions are good, but aren't they just trying to fill out the White Man's Burden? Forcibly elevating someone only destroys what they have themselves achieved.

My Dream of Being a King

I had a dream, just now, in my hot dry room where the humidity evaporated because of the heaters.

I was a series of kings, first the son, and then his father. We were in canada, somewhere, and we had a fort and people to protect, and Indians to fight against. I think we had guns, but also swords, and my army had a medeival-ish look, I think. We were camped out in front of what I believe was the enemy settlment, and the father was readying his troops for battle. As the son I wandered into enemy territory and took back my woman. It was a stroke of genius and there was no massive battle. But I heard rumours that maybe I'd killed off the entire enemy army by myself. I say army because I'm not exactly sure what we were fighting against, and one of the characters later was an indian, and we treated him like an enemy...

As the father I marched home with my troops. They debated and complained, but I was resolute and firm. I explained to those soldiers who asked what I thought. Interestingly, I had some kind of a wife, and she was running further along with the army up front. The father was a strong man, a decisive and wise person, and he claimed that he was not very smart. The son was very smart, however, and both were righteous and different from what you'd expect. Both seemed to believe in something similar to world peace, and both were against fighting. I played the son as were just across the river from our home base. There was an Indian on the ice, he was holding something. My men made a fuss of it, but I did not.  Our scout told us that he had given us a drum, (although it seemed rolled up into a manuscript) and while we were talking, me and the scout, one of my men tried to shoot the man on the ice.

He failed, and I chastised, or he succeeded, killing the man, I immediately rushed out onto the water to tend to the man, and warriors came forth from the forest. I picked up the body with the intention of making amends, and the warriors rushed towards me. If the soldier didn't shoot the man on the Ice, then our army started to cross the ice not far from where the Indian was, and we returned home. While the soldiers passed to my right, we sat on the ice, the Indian man and I. We could not speak the same language, but I tried to be friendly. I tried telling him that he would have to learn our language to survive. He would have to understand our culture, or we would annihilate them. I realize that must have sounded like a threat. One of my men spat on the man. I halted the line and chastise him, and I thought that I wanted to change the way this army works. (Then I dreamt the scenario where one of my soldiers kills the man) and the scene went back to speaking with the  Indian, only this time it was not a warning, but basic communication. I tried to get him to understand me. He could not.

My rank then dropped. I asked Britain to remove some of my soldiers, as they were not useful. I tried to demilitarize my army, and establish a contact with the natives. I was still trying to avoid confrontations like the ones in history. Just now, I'm thinking that I would have done well to write down my initial intentions lest I begin to see them in a new light after being next to them for so long. I think that If the First Nations had spoken english from the get-go, they would have been equals.

This dream explains how difficult keeping to peace must have been. Even as a king, I am still doubted by my followers. The roots to this racism run deep, and it was a miracle that I didn't think the same  way after living with people that though like that. I also realized that the cultural barrier was so great that speaking of complicated things like culture was far down the list of priorities, even if I did want to talk about it. And then there are the misconceptions of different cultures about the other, fears and beliefs, and the difficulty of overcoming them. I can see that it was easier to think the First Nations were inferior, and that they should be enlightened. It gives me insight on the why's that I asked for but could not receive an answer to. I am thankful for this dream, and regret any part that I may have forgotten by the time I sat down to write about it.

Cultural Context

Here's a link to a nurse site that summarizes canadian culture - by which they mean european descent canada.

http://www.registered-nurse-canada.com/canadian_culture.html

I found it while researching "Reparations to Canadian First Nations" for a VCS essay.

Isn't it hilarious? I always wanted to know what others think of us. It's so positive. How nice. I guess they don't know about the corrupt government officials, condescending politicians, the crush of small businesses, lack of interest in preserving our natural ecosystems and *Gasp* the tradition of a multitude of immigrant sub-cultures vying for recognition of their rights at the expense of others' (And of course, the constitutional loopholes that allows them to do so). And many more...

And then finally, a bit on the first nations cultural genocide, waxed over with a glossy sheen. Lovely country, ain't it?

But on the other hand, we don't have child soldiers, and we have a sound public service system. The country isn't ruled by gun-toting gangsters, and we have enough food and water to fill our bellies and then our fridges and still throw some out and pollute the waters.

PSE** PDD**

I believe that's what they're called.

Anyway, I managed to complete my first photoshopped drawing this morning: Cell Shading was impossible at first because the brush type was on Pin Light, but I finally figured it out.

The character is Revan - Sora, my version of the PC from the first KoTOR game.  I was playing around with the idea to make a comic book based in the video game, but expanding in areas I would have liked to see, and cutting content at other places.

Anyway, the character spends many weeks on the second planet, which is why he has long hair. The original head design is an acutal model in the game, although it was designed from memory, and then made into a cartoon, so this head bears no resemblance to the original Bioware design. Also, since it was scanned from a sketch that had no ground or surrounding, and because I was really out of it by the time I was done, the ground is poorly described. Whatever. This was a test run to see what could be done with cell shading, and it is a success.

All Paths, take me to the END

Edward Burtynsky states at the end of Manufactured Landscapes that if he had put this into a more politicized environment then people would be inclined to either agree or disagree. His choice was to focus on engaging people in thinking about what we are doing to our world. Burtynsky states, “many of us are in an uncomfortable spot of not wanting to give up what we have but realizing that we are creating problems that run deep … it’s not a simple right or wrong… it needs a whole new way of thinking.”

What is this new way of thinking? I used to think that if everyone came together and did the small things, over and over, the world would become a better place. So we used to think about cooperation; that if everyone put in two cents, we would get somewhere. But, thing is, small things are forever small. I'm starting to think that just doing your own part is a very self-absorbed way of seeing things. We are "one crew" of the earth. Just pulling our own weight and blaming failure on the ones that did not is not enough. If one fails, all fail. So to succeed, all must succeed. That is the challenge that lies ahead.

Colin, though, asks if perhaps we have the wrong questions. We cannot go back to how things were. Time and life only flow in one direction. There is no right or wrong path. There's just the path. He's right, of course, from a historian's point of view.

Perhaps, instead of being shocked at our current situation and wanting to "fix" the horrors of the world, make them go away, we have to acknowledge and accept them, and go forward. Tomorrow will be new and fearsome, but the world as it was yesterday is history. If you cannot go back, go forwards. That's how it goes in video games, right?

Except you respawn in video games. But hey, there's a lot more players in real life.

Better Together

So this morning we had a Jam sesh at the Ram... with food! I don't know the name of the dish I made but it involved a crazy amount of whipping...

Isn't it always better when we're together?

And as it happens, I'm listening to the song "COME TOGETHER" by the Beatles, of course. Although I don't know how to upload music.

...

Snowfall. Gently flutter to the ground in the afternoon breeze. Echoes of cars rolling off in the distance. Everything is still on this chilly saturday, each reflecting on the time that has come to pass since the last  coming of the long nights. The valley welcomes the new season in silence. No songs are sung.

Mating Rituals of the Human Species, Part I

Today, I must have done at least 6 drawings; too much to scan and show, but my best - that's doable. I have a decent marker sketch of Kirsty, a few drawings of Dawson's landscape, with conte and graphite pencil - and I somehow managed to lose my graphite pencil between the school, KIAC and the residence. My best piece of the day is a mechanical pencil drawing (a return to the roots, perhaps?) of Rian sketching.

[Edit:] I have just noticed inconsistencies in this sketch, and will have to fix them ASAP


[Edit:] Did I say six? I did 9. Many of them are finished, too.

I pondered the meaning of a painting of a mounty receiving a blowjob behind a bar, and also realized that Yukon Gold beer has a really bitter taste, even for beer. My final observation of the night involved three guys who came to chat up two of the Ram girls after the others had all gone, and I got a front row seat to their clumsy and oh-so-obvious mating advances. Not being able to recall ever being in their position (or perhaps once, but I knew at the time that I did not fit in the role well enough to be successful, so knowing myself, I probably gave up early on. Needless to say, I found it quite amusing to be just a bystander to the first, second (the second was denied and more or less managed to save face by going to dance with a lively woman) and third attempts. I cannot see the advantages of having these flies come buzzing to your ear, one per girl, and attempt to have their mating call heard over the band's loud blasts of music. But then, I am not a girl, and I do not feel the need to have foreign objects inserted more or less violently into my privates. However, I would like to document these mating advances in full, with a tape recorder and notes. This time, I was drawing, but I could pretend to draw while taking notes in my sketchbook. Male-Female sexual advances, human species in their canon short-term partner meeting environment, the bar (which, incidentally, features loud music and sense altering refreshments, )neither of which are the most convenient for the purpose of selecting (and slashing) suitable mates.

I feel the sudden urge to bring a video camera into the bar and make discovery channel-like comments on an edited version of this scenario.

Done. Next time, I'll set that up.
It'll be hilarious, I think.

I think it would more convenient if the two people that go to the bar for the same reason, or end up thinking the same way, skipped the pointless introductory phase (I am sure that girls know within 30 seconds whether or not they want to have sex with a given partner, and I know that males require about 5 - 10 seconds to make that decision. There is definitely time to be saved here, if only the interested parties were less attached to the formal introductions.