Art Take 3, (Take 1 was written 7 years ago and re-worked 2 years later in Take 2, both were then lost)

Appreciation of art takes one beyond the confines of frame or space; it can be a window into the topic it tackles; into the artist’s mind, and/or; into the world in which the work begins to exist, even those worlds within which it exists thereafter and throughout time, a portal for the imagination if you like, and capable not only of capturing history, but of making history, by styling and defining worlds. Like every method utilised in the documenting of history, art can be open to propaganda and manipulation, by way of the politics it seeks to represent, or its message, whatever they may be. It is afterall, left to the creator to decide what picture they wish to paint, certainly metaphorically speaking, and depending on the medium and the circumstances, it may be literally too. Sometimes swayed by commission, the audience, mental illness, blindness, syphilis, style, drug and alcohol abuse, but imperatively physical and emotive, for art must be sensed, so as to stir something within the soul, a longing, melancholy or joy, but fundamentally, thought. It is this in my view which makes art, not only does the artist make the piece literally, they make it something more than the physical, by putting a little of themselves into the piece for you to think about, filling the audience with intrigue, not just for the human element within their material piece, but more importantly an intrigue into the artist. The works of artists of every type must be good to be successful, but thereafter, it is the star behind the works that makes them special to the audience, even if we know nothing about them. We are after all human, and nothing is more exciting and interesting to us than ourselves and other humans. Thus, a little of the artist will always live on in their work, like a long term harbour for expression. Art can be influenced, then on occasion balanced, whether secretly with symbol, or within the subliminal by the rebellious artist, or, it can be balanced and beautiful from the beginning, and upon completion, thereafter subjected to distortion and turmoil. It may even be impossible to tell either way, there may be nothing there in any event, or possibly a hint, but just to spark rumour, wonder and debate. From quite simply pure truth, as far as known at the time, from impressionism to realism to surrealism, art represents every spectrum of humanity, and from its very beginnings too, even representing itself through the conceptual. Our lives are; our interpretation of a series of images every day, pictures, whether influenced by all manner of persuasions or not, the artist, like us, is simply an interpreter, a middle man, and therefore in all of us. When I in turn come to interpret a work, for instance a painting, I want a peek at what goes on outside of the frame, at the moments of the art’s creation, when life is being captured and explained from another’s perspective, it is the artist I wish to imagine and understand, for it is they who have formed a link between this world and something more spiritual, Devine even, whether from within the imagination of themselves or others, or from right in front of them. They have taken life and brought it to life, immortalising it, along with themselves. Art is to temporarily contain elements of chaos, so that they may be held for a time, observed, enjoyed even. The forming of a temporary order to the disorderly beauty of things, so that we might then own it, and/or possess it. I hope you enjoy my art, for that, I would like to think, exists in what I have just written.

Pain Relief

A technique of the mind that may allow for a little relief of temporary pain, whether this be fleeting, such as experienced after a knock, or passing pain, such as experienced with a headache. Although I am sure this is a technique honed by Buddhist Monks who set themselves on fire in protest, it is very unlikely to assist whatsoever in circumstances of extreme and/or prolonged pain. The method is simple; it requires focussed concentration on the area within the body that is causing the discomfort. Start by closing your eyes in order to get the hang of it, be aware of your mind only, then rid it of all thoughts, you should be aware of self, and of your positioning, that being within the head. It is now a matter of taking your mind from within your head, to the position of pain within your body, or if that pain is in the head, to the area at which the pain is most concentrated. If it helps, imagine your mind travelling from your starting place and through the body towards your ailment, alternatively, you can project your mind straight to the area. Once there, try to travel deep into the pain itself and put all of your concentration into that area. Now, this may sound ridiculous, but try with all of your concentration to worsen the pain. I hope that when you get this right, you should find that the pain does quite the opposite, if only for brief interludes whilst your concentration ebbs, and then lapses. Practice may very well make perfect, although I wouldn’t wish the need for that much practice upon anyone. Having thought about this technique thoroughly, I wonder whether, by sending signals from the brain, and to the area of pain, this somehow works against the signals travelling the opposite way, from the area of pain, to the brain, where it is then perceived as pain. It could also be that this technique works by simply taking the mind off the perception of pain by distracting it somewhat, I am sure this is how cannabis works in pain relief, by numbing the brain to its perception of pain.

Sometime Before 11/3/11

This time I knew exactly what I was doing, but the concept was so completely new to me, it was as though I had invented it, like a composer dreaming up a composition, a scientist a solution or a writer an idea. I thought this was inspiration, but I knew right away it was inspiration destined for another man. Quite possibly even the dreams or a reality of another man. // I was deep under water, the bombs were large but manageable manually, their strength was to be in their number; sparsely surrounding the fairly distant coastline would be ample. They were chained and bolted to mounts fixed into the sand of the seabed, allowing them enough length to move with the current and float above their mountings, the waters were not savage and clarity was good, the sand was gold in colour and lay in gradients like dunes. I had no idea of what the effect of what I might be doing would have, and no idea why I would be doing it, not whilst in the midst, nor in the immediate hindsight upon waking, what I did know, was that they were destined to blow.

Sometime Before 9/11

Warm air rushed past my ears like a hurricane and picked up the dust spilled heavily from above. I’d been running up a series of escalators for what had seemed a long while, and then the fire fighters came, running down past me as quickly as I ran up the opposite way. They seemed like ghosts as they bounded by in silence, unaware of me, and for a little while, everything went slow. I could make out the bright hats and purposeful clothing, but they were faceless men. I could not fathom why I was going up the escalators whilst they and others, all seemed to be headed down, I was very much going against the grain. Never the less, this was a dream in which I exercised no control and minimum self awareness, I was someone else at that point. It wasn’t until I eventually launched off the top of an escalator and found myself in a large glass foyer that it became apparent I had in fact been a long way down, underground; it must have been several floors. I had been headed for the exit which now presented itself before me, then slowing to a walk, I proceeded in serene calm. A pang hit as I exited and saw law enforcement officers on my right, but then lifted, as I saw an old childhood friend stood waving over the roof of a an automobile from the driver’s side’s open door. I smiled and broke to a jog towards the automobile, unless I was shot from behind, which seemed unlikely now, something had been accomplished, there was a sense of elation. I have never felt a sense of achievement in a dream, before or since, to this day I can only guess at what had been achieved. // I only ever told my then girlfriend of what I had dreamt. When we were dismissed from a lecture theatre to telephone home and find the nearest television that fateful day, I hadn’t made a link. It wasn’t until I saw the much later footage of the fire fighters from within one of the buildings that I went green, I had seen it before.

Sometime Before February 2001

I was not alone, there may have been one or possibly two working with me. Distinctly vivid however, was the feeling of intense pressure; it was an anxiety ridden dream. // I found myself in a laboratory, it may have been the second or third floor up - I recall options of escape playing through my sleeping mind, the external windows along the back wall being one such option, and the height being an issue. A heavy sealed door with a thick circular window was for those few fleeting moments my only sanctuary from which to work behind. As if peering through the eyes of another, fully briefed more competent man, I worked quickly, methodically, and took something. It was something that I didn’t really see, perhaps a sample of some such. I recall test tubes and what looked like vacuum packs, but nothing more. It was then that I became aware that there were people in the corridor franticly trying to work their way in. They were armed and began to shoot through the glass in the door. I was again aware of a companion, the door swung open and the figure was gunned down, I would like to say by accident, in the midst of the frenzy; in that my associate had not been aimed at, but I cannot be sure. I was making for the window towards the middle of the room with whatever I’d come for secured with me, I slipped sideways out of the top of the window and was gone.

E-mail To The President

Dear Mr President, I understand that you have discovered a Vimana in Afghanistan, if so, why can you not tell the people? For if it is indeed the case, the truth belongs to mankind, the people must be awakened from their slumber. Yours sincerely Adam Grant

Know It All Do You?

There's nothing worse than a know it all. If they did know it all, then they wouldn't be one, there'd be no talking over, butting in, interrupting, showing off and belittling. They'd shut the fuck up and actually listen once in a while.