Monday, February 22, 2016

Chrome

Feb 22nd, Full Snow Moon

extemporaneous dialectic with local sparrow

Chrome



1.       Help I’m a pigment! Help I’m a pigment! Help I’m a pigment! Help I’m a pigment!
I am not dashed down by the wing brush.
 I cling to a daffodil and yet when the great wing comes I do not change colour.
I question this idea of yours. A sparrow knows what colour she is. I am egg. You know.
Sparrow I was just watching a time ago when a bird did not remember how to stop being a rock. She said (in part):
Klanna-tholl
Klanna-tholl
Klanna-tholl
Pik-a-dill-a do-tchay
Pik-a-li-sa no-say (o-ooh)

2.       Help I’m a laptop! Help I’m a laptop! Help I’m a laptop! Help I’m  a laptop! Oh, please – let my text go on without stalling? Help help help
Bet
I bet
You never thought of the blessing of shooting stars
Your birth is noted.
Your own personal karma is marked, albeit most briefly.
Bet. I bet you
did not conceive of large pre-addressed haematite crystals arriving right?
at  hospital?  And really I bet you didn’t know some peoples births provided for the webs’ colour for fonts, right?irths
Help Im a haematite. Help I’m a haematite. He-lp it.
BRANG 
tuk.



Friday, January 22, 2016

The Quiescence of Frigid January

The Quiescence of Frigid January

I “remember” the somewhat curled, old printout I made of Jack Kerouacs’ tips on being a writer. Somehow the long list of inspiring words has blended into my own sense of adventure, and my terms for exciting authorship are my own.
When I contact the adventuress she is trying to remember Jack Kerouac, the great authority on truly wonderful authorship. She is also striving to understand the need to write, and reluctant to embark upon any such journey, choosing to peruse sheaves of quilled delicacies from children, Alzheimers’ patients and The Walrus Magazine, a Canadian Poets’ Own – only to look for more inspiration.
What writing is to me when it is a brilliant butterfly in a zephyr gale opens the histories and WORD written into billions of years of adaptation and of magical discoveries because it is a free will blown beyond the cares and ennui of practical maintenance.
I aspire (and most likely always will flutter more dangerously into that candle on a Friday night) to let the depth of perception become the flow of these essays into illustration. For an artist, writing is a cold and Pecksniffian  sear upon a boldscape of colour, texture and form. Words or perhaps rhythms, rhymes and sentence shaping need explain the urgency of self-expression, or that messianic call to “show” others the meaning of life.
I have researched January as Janus, the god who gave this dried out frozen month its’ name. Synonyms for Janus-faced (as befits the month of January) abound besides Pecksniffian ( meaning “thew” ) begging for mention of some riotous themes I feel deserve equal billing:

left-handed,lip, mealy, mealymouthed, Pecksniffian, phony 

Lovingly collected and presented, free of charge from the word dispenser at Merriam Webster Thesaurus.

Definition of Thew:

Popularity: Bottom 30% of words

1a :  muscular power or development
b :  strengthvitality
2:  musclesinew —usually used in plural

Damn January Anyway

Why, I wonder, have I chosen a word for January that involves the concepts of muscular power or development? I think of this month of shut in days as times of iron detention, ice hard will forcing me into quiescence during the fortitudinous provision of coolers and moistening fertility for the world.
We Canadians are proud of our snows and ices. Yet January is mealy-mouthed,  double-dealing, backhanded and counterfeit. We are. We Canadians. No sooner has the pride of identity of belonging to delicate individual caloric florals and of maintaining the very sinews of coherence for the worlds’  last delicate few million years of life than the commoners’  whine farts out, dying of blighted short dark days of bitterness in the frost death of all.  We are not proud, we all say. Damn January anyway.

Thank you, Ma’am

These years thawing the personal poet from years of permafrost is too difficult.
What bounced into poetry and more quickly conceived of design and colour, the listening that let bells and high violin notes define life, which let the rough rude scrape of chromatinous leaf equal those as magical musical events ( although it be the sonar elephant in a sweet ringing of nightingales ) is now numbed. It has the texture of an eraser, a rubber. Perhaps it is the spent rubber after a night of Spring banging away at a frigid January, to no avail but for the swollen red extremities, the ensuing pain.
This written work is just an exercise and particularly has no reason, no mission, (not even the Missionary position) not much sense and it is a way to re-kindle the quiet world of intellectual pursuit.

what a’ do when i’m senile

January is a month of new beginnings, and every gardener will start something growing indoors, whether this is a pot of fast-growing herbs or the thought of bulb roots beginning to spread their vital, newness of adolescent, short roots into the seemingly stalled, dead earth.
We gardeners have hope. Gardening is my saving grace, if all other activities fail to attract me to act, even if it will not pay me a wage. Gardening is, at least, fruitful. My dining table often has huge bouquets of garden flowers that cost me nothing. My cooking is nothing without the Basil I grow summer and winter indoors, nor the Oregano, Thyme, Mints and other fresh things that I have grown organically over the years.
The gardener in me is not a joker or a lame aspirant in reaching for the correct words or tenor within an increasingly literate web. My gardening self doesn’t care what people think, has no need to win at gardening shows or to sell produce.
 If I become senile my love for flowers and herbs will shine on, touching, sensing volatile oils, scenting fragrances that will be curative.  I care so much about peoples’ right to perceive beyond the restrictions of physicality that I recently shared an article about nano sculptures made by 3D printer. The sculptures fit into the eye of a needle, in fact one hundred of them could fit into this space.
These classical sculptures gave me an idea; that even if a person has a pins’ breadth left of vision due to glaucoma , they could still experience an aesthetic journey into the shaping of things.
Even if a person is born blind, I felt, some nerves or process could see these minutiae.

Link here to see worlds' smallest 3D printed sculptures

 3D printing lets you print the colours of the work onto them, I think. So a child could see a 3D image of Mommy. Start with Mamas and breasts and little flowers and cows. People so have the right to see something and to elevate the wonder within them that shows them the Creation evolved  by a Supreme entity, void that is at once life and breath in all of its dappling and flashing, velvet and knifing splendor.
Here is the sort of miraculous journey that lets a person go beyond what is safe and familiar. Information from every school and culture is available to anybody via a world-wide library. We are encouraged to go beyond. There is no reason now to believe in an old age spent nodding at bees and eating handsful of mint and rose petals for days of palliative erotica.

is senility just wrenchingly redundant boredom?

Now that I have recognized that my body is still in January, though- I realize that I need some time to eat fresh herbs from my fingers, or to lay in a pool of glass-filtered sunshine. I spend time thinking to the bees underground, anyway.  And not the nota benes or their knees, just bumblebees.
Even moles and bumblebees get bored and evolve conversations with monstrosities outside their own personal boxes. So I get to learn at the spirit-3D print of the bees’ knee or agape at the feet of wise voles of vole hill.
There is no reason for our thoughts to be large and small, just understandable. For instance the other day I was remarking upon the witch hat rock form under the neighbours’ garden, since I was thinking of how a mineral may have gone askew. I got to report the comments (in pictures) of voles, who are avid geophysicists .. It had separated, thought the vole, and my question was- is it going to cause trouble?
A three way dialectic ensued, during which a knowledgeable scientist told us that it separates from and then clips the rocks every year.
 The vole heard me describe the whereabouts of his own entry as “under Ians’ Onion patch”.
She asked, then: “Are there any juicy onions?”.
A fourth conversationist joined to say, “No, I pulled them all”.
But at that point the vole had managed to rush down about eighteen feet and had found tiny green spring onions forming. They were from seed fallen through the patch, collecting growths of onion sprouts on their sides in slight crevasses of the rock.  Or they were.
Even if I have no one left who understands me, I imagine, nature will love me and keep me informed.
At least.

A Third Day:       January 21st, 2016

Tears in my heart this second, after watching a video of a wedding- a NewZealand Haka. Trying to describe this in words is not possible, unless one were from Maori ancestry and had literary mastery the equivalent of Katzansakis at the fulcrum of his abilities.

To quote:            

I said to the almond tree:
 "Speak to me of God ."
and the almond tree blossomed.

·         The Fratricides (1964)

Calling in Canada

I am reminded that this day is January, 18 degrees below zero and that I am escaping the idea of its death blows toward youngsters and linesmen underground, and the boredom of routine house cleaning.
  I am aware that I have never even holidayed in New Zealand, although Australian and Maori New Zealanders have been my friends since childhood.
You never know who a person truly is until you have understood their environmental conditions, and have lived their lives with them, to some degree. The richness and closeness of tribal society is a Canadian way, certainly, and even I have spent time in a medicine wheel prayer circle, or outdoors praying for rain with a friend who was one of the shamans of our area.
Our minds are so much more a global village in Canada, and probably because both environment (being grandly enormous and subject to extremes in weather) and our economic barriers keep us separated from each other.
In intellectual minds there are few separators during the meaningful times of meditation, or when there is mutual concern, joy or sorrow.  Canadians readily hop over fences and boundaries. At Tim Hortons’ coffee shop you find yourself sitting opposite the Minister of Forestry one day and a famous sci-fi author the next. They want someone to chat with while taking a coffee and sandwich.
You thought they would be snobby, but like you they are only too willing to explore social themes or politics or like Roger, talk about building his castle or reinventing the faster snowmobile.  Some of these people are very rich and well known, while others, like myself , have been poor artists and single Mommies all their lives.  Above all, if you love your brothers and sisters your relationships, whether long term or of the instant will become enriching and valuable days of thought and experience, because everybody counts.
Tears are still behind my eyes. We live in a winter of long miles away from each other, of huge economic hardships and in fear of meeting up with the wrong racial politick.
Not too many aspects of society demand or allow up front emotion in Canada,  and the familial side of each groups’ tribal identity is occult. In so many ways Canada is a lonely place, unless we share humanistic goals and work together in a communally thought out space, which demolishes distance and social hardship. I think that is why, when people share their very sacred marriage vows and celebrations with us over the net, we still cry, no matter that we do not know the couple or their families.  I feel that the tears are for that lonesome Canadian way of life sometimes, so often a masked, cloistered and inhibited social yearning.


You can see this wedding Haka via this link:  Wedding Haka


Perhaps Facebook has brought rays of kind intention, some meaningfulness into my cyber-day. The sun warms my skin through the window. I have forgotten the effort it took to start writing again, and my heart has remembered that tears and deeply felt emotions have been far from my experience for some time.
There is awareness that our global village experience becomes a parochial nuisance at times, too. We hear each other think when we have gone on beyond the documents or postings and we collide. Here is the time to sow (even if I have to fake it, this being yet another miserably frozen day) – it is a time to create something that is my future, and not to reap what others have so passionately sown.
Social media can, I imagine, make of our readership somewhat of a social succubus- our global awareness having left egos less convoluted and more susceptible like youth to emotional or psycho-sexual plundering.
Buddhist masters say we live in a dream, but it is not so viable an idea when one can verify events, names, situations and interrelate so instantly across the world.
I feel now that it is time to give my blog in, that musing about frigidity in January is not so productive as in sharing whatever seeds of expression this might sow elsewhere.

Cheers! Sue.







Thursday, November 24, 2011

Free Occasion Cards

I originally made these for an app on Facebook but I didn't do it properly and they were a bit of a nuisance sending, ie they did not pop up for recipients. Anyway, cut and paste these, print, or email to friends.

These Stars Anyday Cards are shareware available to Google Plus users, although not for commercial use or reissue. Licensing is 'non-Commercial Share Alike'.
 It is a present but please respect peoples' sentiments. They have a right to warm friendship without being exploited.

Originally they stored them on Picasa but I exited an app that I had on Facebook. Their app wizard is too hard to understand. I am not a developer, but I am a web designer. I really had some trouble with Facebook. Still it's all good.

Anyway I am adding the Google Plus address for these cards (for what they are worth) I only spent an afternoon whizzing them together and they probably need your special touch! (for your personal use not to sell, though)

here is the address if the title does not autolink:

TO: FREE CARDS ON GOOGLE PLUS

Monday, October 04, 2010

The Religious Author

“Oh, You Should Live on Donation”

Universal Rights and Freedoms


The Universal Declaration on Human Rights comes to mind readily. The Internet brings this link into focus at the top of the search list, because I have posed a question. It is this, typed into the search window of my desktop:

“Why works on religion should be free".

Link, if you wish, to Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Some people believe that, even if a person has spent several years in university, that their discussion of religious concepts, or research into religion, archeological discovery, philosophy and discourse alike should be supported only by stipend or donations.

I am researching peoples' opinions because of the damp fatuosity of the greedy types who believe a poor person with hardly a bean should produce, publish and pay for thousands of texts for the people, all free of charge, because they are they are students of religion. Of course, it is an impossibility for most individuals to back the manufacture for, say, a million texts, and yet, not just Reverends, Rabbis or nuns have opinions or ideas about worship. These people, probably more often in the majority, would not enjoy the support of any religious organization, which would purchase the books through ongoing donations.

I decided to have a look at true public opinion and I will start with the obvious.
If you care to research our actually guaranteed human rights on earth, you could look at Articles 2 and 4 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, published and maintained by the United Nations.

Religious Opinion and Civil Rights

A paragraph in Kerry L. Morgans’ "Unalienable Rights, Equality and the Free Exercise of Religion"

states that: “RELIGIOUS OPINION NEITHER EXPANDS OR DIMINISHES CIVIL RIGHTS OR CAPACITIES…

"Several state Declaration of Rights articulate the relationship between religious liberty and the rule of equality.120 Virginia stated the broadest rule of all, not limiting its application to those who acknowledged God or professed Christianity. It declared that "all men shall be free to profess, and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities." In other words, religious opinions should not affect civil capacities, and by necessary implication non-religious opinions should not affect civil capacities either."

Link to Kerry L. Morgans’ "Unalienable Rights, Equality and the Free Exercise of Religion


In our rich western world, the idea that a person can study religions and religious philosophies for forty years or more, even to the point of taking university courses in Theology, only to be both used without concern for the civil liberties of their own lives, and also despised for their subsequent poverty or meagreness after having been so exploited under the supposition that a religious career must only be paid by donation is not just preposterous, in this day and age it borders on deviancy.

Morgans’ statement Number one goes on to say:

"The equality principle prevents state and Congressional infringement or adjustment of civil rights on account of one's belief or mode of worship. The principle is part and parcel of both the free exercise clause of the federal Constitution and to the extent the idea is reflected in state constitutions, it constitutes the law of that state as well. In a nutshell the law of equality declares that opinion or belief may in no way diminish, enlarge, or affect civil capacities."

Americas' Constitution poses the basic understanding:

"all persons have a natural right to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness and the enjoyment of the gains of their own industry;"

If this particular aspect of that constitution were not repeatedly of note in every medium, the free TV shows, internet capabilities, email and telephone advantages that we so enjoy would never have gained the backing nor have attracted the diversity of cultural intent that everyone now takes for granted.

Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms

Under Fundamental Freedoms, Canadas Charter declares:

"2. Everyone has the following fundamental freedoms:

(a) freedom of conscience and religion;


(b) freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication;


(c) freedom of peaceful assembly; and


(d) freedom of association.”


Examine (b)
'the freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication.'

Slavery

If a person is guaranteed the freedom of their own minds' perspective, philosophy, including religious choices plus freedom of the press and other media it stands to reason that no author, philosopher or publisher shall be made a slave (nor perceived of as one) by any other citizen or group of citizens.

There is no reason, (because religious leaders have presented teachings that have inspired any poetry, authorship of literature, film, art, etc.) for the original church or religious body to lay claims upon the cultural production as if an extension of that one body of faith!
Imagining that a human being should exist upon the whims of donors for their
earthly wages alone is naiive, and also deeply demanding.
The notion that only Gods work is done and therefore all revenues from the tasks should be given to "God" (that is, to serve the charitable extensions, executives and hierarchies) of any one faith can be seen as presumptuous if applied to any other career choices, like science or music; yet astronomers, physicists, composers, each one of these may be deeply inspired and educated by the same works of faith, the same leaders, and even some of the same university courses, in producing their own contributions to humankind.

The Disgust of Bloody Martyrdom

I notice personally that religious martyrdom is still expected of any moderate, civilized individual by those who are used to luxuries in life. Like the early Romans with their appalling arenas filled with bestial and indecent slaughter, they are looking for a sensationalistic show. Not just ill-mannered, but socially terribly lazy and conceited, they imagine that much of the world should be catering to their way of life, that it has always been so, and therefore there is no need for change.

I note that few news articles feature mega-rich, acheived and famous people who have viciously martyred themselves.
The last great person (almost) who deliberately martyred his person publicly was Mahatma Ghandi. Although he was a state leader, he deliberately went on a starvation diet to demonstrate the suffering of his people.
Perhaps people were too ignorant in the pre-global days to have understood the misery that Indias’ people lived with.
A few famous people have followed Ghandis' example, but martyrdom and its attendant fanaticism are frowned upon by those who are promoting wholesome, equalized and decent conditions for all sentient beings.

In this day and age, we are disgusted at the image of a young man bound to his fundamentalist issues to the point of taking his life with explosives in order to murder others. Murder and the creation of chaos is abhorrent.

Many of us see that the action of the Romans against Christ Jesus were abhorrent; they tortured the great leader of the Jews, and expected to be able to murder him slowly on the cross.
In that primitive age, Rabbis were expected, traditionally, to take turns martyring themselves for their people.
Destroying our religious leaders is almost unthinkable today. When we pray (or lobby) for results, we are intending to offer some actions or energies of our own as well as to wait for the One to answer all aspects of the need.

My philosophy is humanistic. I do not believe in self-torture, I think of it as not just masochistic or machisma, but sometimes a type of deviant flashing, meant to enhance the self-view of spiritual determinism, or to encourage others to heroize one’s person.

Pass the Tools for Production (but hold it on Marxism)

I don't believe that people who endeavour to share their religious education should indulge in that type of glittering, hyper-emotional self abuse either. Any persons functionality demands some means for shelter, food, clothing, health care, travel costs, educational and work tools.
When fundamentalists not only fail to provide these, while insisting that an author/teacher (whatever) is performing a religious service, therefore this service should be freely “given”, they are expecting work of a spiritual nature to be created only by the mega rich, or those who have access to funds from religious bodies of faith.

This means anyone with diverse education, leaning or a new perspective upon spiritual philosophy (whether demonstrated in literary or other creative modes like art or music) will be no more than a slave to be used by those entrenched in fundamentalist sects of any one religious body. They are used to patriarchal organizations.

Western religion has sought to rectify the hateful tendency to enslave, and has insisted upon teachings that have unfolded toward democratic equalization.

We can see how democratic thinking supports the health and well being of religious celibates in the West (even though they may have taken vows of poverty) in that they are clean, usually well fed and housed with respect to their right to cleanliness, rest and other types of decency. One may perceive that their intellectualism and steadfastness rides upon not starvation or deprivation, but on some mode of payment.

On the other hand, many of us are exasperated by media Ministering that openly solicits the public, presenting products and asking for enormous costing or donations.
We feel, perhaps, that the showman is more of a con artist than a religious leader, but it is because many of us are leary of media process and ownership. Indeed, Mass Communication educators express just that; that the ownership of most periodicals, news syndicates and programs is in the hands of a very few. It is only in the last twenty years or so, for example, that employing Afro-American or East Indian actors or news anchors became normative for television news presentations. Even that was a struggle.

The tenor and tenets of western media had been formed through the twentieth century for commercial purpose, to satisfy and attract a largely white immigrant populus.
Much work had to be done to equalize opportunity, even in an industry that had pioneered in helping an ignorant populus form a more respectable opinion of the worlds' cultures, peoples and of human rights globally.


Life, Liberty and Security of the Person

In Canada, Under Legal Rights, Life, Liberty and Security of the Person, #7:

"Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person and the right not to be deprived thereof except in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice."

No-one need be deprived of their living and their right to gain from employment, or self-employment.

There is truly a lot to say about the demands of people who feel, for some reason that they are so Godly that they should just be served. Their spiritual poverty comes either from the ignorance of the very rich or of the terribly poor and disadvantaged, but it is not convenient for our democratic nations to support religious people as if perennial students.

Religious researchers/writers/painters may be highly motivated and intense, but their high energy or attention to human morality or toward spiritual acheivements should not be conceived to be either a disability or a useless occupation - people should pay for these services just as they do for any other. Why is peace work despicable, compared to the manufacture of Coca Cola, Tampax or Antihistamines?

Professionals in religion work toward peace and equanimity, health and fruitfulness, much the same as those adhering to political or health doctrines.

What I am beginning to hear is that the attitude that has callously made of the actor a whore (circa 1204) or of the artist a toy (circa 1980) and of the religious teacher a stone or a freak sex trip (circa 1965 and on via drug daytrippers) seems to have extended its viciousness and greed toward web designers, doctors, nurses, soldiers and all kinds of educated people whose application is for the benefit of a worlds' peace.
People like geophysicists, mineralogists, police officers, industrial nurses and others whose professions take them into the worlds' dangerous badlands seem to be constantly not just put down or hated, but tortured, martyred, typecast into roles that are unconfortable, underpaid, disrespected and even thought of as spare parts that just should be there to serve, but who will pay?

These fatuous airheads won't. Their whine and demand noises barely cover up for their ratty covetousness, graft and outright extortion of funds into such important pursuits as cocaine dealership, guns running and the purchase of tender but tabu flesh.

I see the increasingly rude mistreatment of educated people as symptomatic of this malaise. Greed from right wing narrowness, bigotry of all kinds, and self serving from the antique traditions of apartheid, whether racial or social amount to what intellectual diseases create the grounds for warfare and eventually chaotic, destructive forces on the earth.

Social Disorder

Through neo-puritanism, we are establishing social disorder.

If we listen to those who scream the loudest that their needs should be served, free of charge, and buy their extraordinary disparity within our own belief structures, we are aiding and abetting fascism and the eventual breakdown of civilization through violence and slavery. So, caveat emptor- if a group of people demands that any given target be forced to work for free- you're joining the Nazis or the Mafia for flagrant ignorance and criminality if you agree with them.

People need to be practical and kind in their relationships with others, even if these comprise the dialectic of commerce.







Thursday, September 23, 2010

Organizing 12,000 Photos? Why?




I keep my photos on Flickr.com. It only costs me $25.00 a year, and I decided it would be a great way to conserve all the recent shots (and some of the families' vintage material, too).
I felt that flood, fire or looting might interfere with my memories if I didn't keep a hard copy online.
I can upload 200 photos and the site tells me that I have uploaded 0% of my quota for the day, or it is massive storage, without advertising the idea.
One can share images with fellow photographers, leave and receive comments or mail, so it is a kind of pen pal club for people who don't have the time to explain everything.





I made a small photo book a couple of years ago, and I really enjoyed editing and publishing the work.
When the time came to annotate the works that I had chosen, I found that I could write up a storm, in fact- I had secrets that only a few people should be reading. I gave upon the idea of blogging my photos for this reason, and also because I am not sure how long it would take to blog 12,000 photographs.


Balls

Balls, balls, balls! When I posted umpteen images of vintage Christmas balls in September, there may have been some initial interest in the glass content, it is true. Argh- what frustration I have run into...I annotated the description page of every photo on my desktop. I spent half an hour minutely studying the White Gift stories of the generous Jewry or royalty, and its gift giving to the tiny or the needy - all preserved in finite amounts of glass or glass chroming.
To my dismay, when I decided to set them onto Flickr for my friends and family in the arts, or for the collectors to whom I am connected as a contact, all of the info had wiped off my photos.
I waited nearly a year before looking at them again, and decided to post them tabula rasa for the most part, with a little titling to stimulate collector interest.

I had unfortunately run into the old fall-into-the-tree-when- skunkily-drunk routine, an activity most surely inherited by my husband from his forefathers, as I am sure most men have.
So, I had kept the precious stories in broken form, and I published these, too- as if casting transparencies of crumbs upon the laughing waters of the visually literate Internet.


Making Sets

Why didn't I think of this before? I started to organize sets during this Virgoan month of September, because I had so much from the last few years. i primitively began with the colours of the rainbow, colour by colour (almost finished). Here was my covenant in the love that the great Creator has bestowed upon me- the love of colours, shapes, textures, of life proliferate and sounding.
I spent about a week reissuing my images in such a way that I made sense to myself. I had to evaluate how far I had progressed (at all) in the art of photography.
I have no difficulty making graphics form my photos, and love to play, but this has meant leaving painting, drawing, crafting and many other arts skills behind. I may now paint in changing opalescence, gems, moving scapes that allow me to publish sounds and text and graphics and images- either my own art or photos and videos. It is most tremendously exciting, but it is also a new set of media for me.Basically, I might as well be any eighteen year old student wowing at what I can do to stun, bedazzle and speak to friends and opponents alike. I make protest art, publish dark, mysterious Hallowe'en videos and photo sets, dash around parks looking for our nations' history, and I have done a lot of this. So much. I decided to organize my sets to see what I had not done, yet.
Clicking to the Explore page of Flickr.com offers some of the most vigourously brilliant, exciting photo sets in the world. It never ceases to inspire me, and I do this regularly now.
When someone published a brilliant set of window images (boy, was I jealous!) I decided to garner the window shots I had taken over the years. For some reason, I remember tons of storefront shots that are not on Flickr. My memory fails me, and it is due to Flickrs' huge storage capacity that I can gather the harvest of my street interest. I made my own set of window images, and I loved them. I realized that I had shot them because I love them. I love glass things, reflections, transparencies, the freedom of gaze, if you will.

After that it was easy to collect my stars and my lanterns. I collect star images and real lanterns. There again- where were so many of my images? Lost to photo albums of the past, edited away, maybe? There is a good reality to taking stock, and that is that a photographer can always take a shot again, if the subject has not broken or got wrinkled as the case may be. (Sort-of, anyway.) I go to parks where the earth has turned up wonders I could not imagine existed, and the next year (or even minute) the image is lost forever, or not due back for seven years, who knows. No, I must not lose out on those wonderful discoveries and memories. But maybe blogging the way that I spout off is not appropriate. There is always someone who will come and spoil a scene or even steal a priceless image away.
Portrait photography has been calling me for some time, and yet I have not used my legacy tripod, any lighting, scenes; play scenarism that the students get into first. I stop for a second. Note: make time to take real portraits with the tripod. Note 2: Take photos of friends while the sun shines; I just lost another one to the chaotic cosmos out there.


Wonders

I wonder at the numerous dark images that I have created, and mourn the innocence that would allow me to take child and baby photos. Predators and commercial exploitation have alarmed parents so badly with regard to what ills an unknown photographer might produce, if they poke too many lenses into too many baby faces. In the old days, of course, we were young parents and took images of each others' kids. Do I have to take an elders' inventory, or what? Personally, I modelled for professional artists with my husband when we were young arts students. I was vastly pregnant at the time, and I got sketched by Harold Town among other notables. But wait, I can't ask young mothers to pose for personal shots like this. Social ills have inhibited many of us (that includes me).
There are so many schools of thought,and perhaps taking stock as I have begun to do will evoke some new photographic journey. Maybe it will piss me off and make me draw things again. That's the last thing I thought of when I examined my addiction to the arts world.

Anyway, it is important to keep folders and files clear, and to take stock in ones activities. Why is anything worth the effort? Who are we as publishers? Is it a call, or a dream or a geekified madness? I had great fun calling the government balls, and casting the sinful lot into someone elses' net. Didn't I have enough toys or hugs as a kid? Sometimes I try so hard to show people what is important in life, taking pains to illustrate or to title and annotate online.

Maybe this blog will turn into a photo blog, but it is so controlling. It means that I am focusing people upon what I can see by relying upon their readership rather than their spiritual aspect on vision.

I question the yeeearggh stage of journalistic shrieking in myself, and in others. Is this alerting people better than the solid photo journalism that brought you streams of tears and slams of outrage - the image of those children running form napalm, the burns and tears and blood mingling into one hopeless horrifying shot at high tech warfare, at the US of yesteryear.

I do have shots like this, but somehow I am intimidated. I don't want to exploit delicate situations, and I only hint at them, at least online.

Note: balls to self, and make more pretty decos this year, to cheer self up. Balls, I agree.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dragging through it all



Feel like a stuffed Robotic Santy this year?

I guess so many of us go through the gifting and visits by rote, and it all used to be fun. A bottle of Chianti and a candle stuck in a Chianti empty was all we younger people needed to get the party started way back when...music, though! Music gets you into some sort of adjusted feeling of belonging, even when you are old and grey.

I can't stand Chianti on my tum these days, and I don't eat turkey, or stuffing that has been in it. In fact, I'm vegetarian and I never bother whining away about getting what is traditional. A few cranberries and some delicious and fancy hors d'ouevres or sweets really cheer a person up a bit, though, anytime.



At left and above, I decided to show you the life-size Santa I found down south in the US a few years ago. Santa I do not need, either, but it is interesting to note that the legend must have been built upon a reality of gentle travellers, who could not resist gifting the kids of each village, nor donating purses to those in need.



HollyI discovered Holly trees that were fifty feet high in southern US, so magnificent, really; they were rich with very fresh berries, since the climate is so much milder than in Ontario. We tripped around in just shoes and light jackets, instead of facing 16 degree below weather and snow.

Not only Holly grew in Kentucky, USA, but I found, to my amazement, that clumps of Mistletoe (an air plant that grows on trees like Orchids) clung above my head in half a dozen spots where my husband and I were visiting. So, kiss someone under this (shown at right):



Oh, I do feel a bit sour and maudlin this time of year, but I love to travel, anyway!! I like the gifting part because I love my family.

Giving Lots!

A member of my family sent me a great link as a "card". I appreciated this so much, because the Christmas Jukebox had a collection of really classic retro songs on it:

You can find this on: Heavens Gates, A Fifties Christmas Jukebox.
Link here to play the songs (great cartoons, too) http://heavens-gates.com/50s/50s_christmas.html

There, squeeeeze, (associated sounds of phishing for last dime stuck in bottom of green shopping bag) I gave to you and yours! Wasn't hard!


Laughing Lots!

Just thought I'd add a Night Before Christmas Poem I made (like a zillionteen others on the net) in case you found it amusing.........





A Doctors' Christmas Eve

'Twas the night before Christmas,When, 'pon top of the house,

There seemed to be restlessness-could be a mouse (?)
It couldn't be the family,

They were neat as a pin,

Surely, mice were too educated to ever get in…
Still, something rumbled, it crunched and repeatedly sounded,

As carols and bells through the night air resounded…
On top of the roof there stood someone quite bulky,

Took a look with the laser,

Must admit I'm a bit sulky..
Only two hours off this year, then its' back to the lab,

This had better be fruitful,or that visitors' on a slab!
(Note: The stockings were hung from the mantle with care-

All their toes had a star,

So we could look after the dears.

Wee nursies at night, they could take a quick peek-

Are the children all well,

Is each one asleep?)
There - on the roof, stood a dirty old hippie,

A nose obviously sprung from F.A.S., not so pretty!

A belly that groaned with intense, obese strain,

And frost upon frost on the senile old brain.
The old boy had lived upon Schnapps and fruitcake,

And the stink as he farted could make the ground quake.
At once, I remembered the Hippiecratic oath,

And I called 911 to get rid of the oaf.
I repeated my Doctors annotations to reception,

And all they could say was,

Must be your epileption,
Why, Doctor, they complained, in great disbelief,

How could there be a man on your roof- Oh, good grief!

And his dress is all red, you say, (Have ye had too much cheer?)

And, don't you forget, sir, to take your pills this year!
Have you forgotten? -Why, a great sack, you say?

We've no room for obscenity, to you, sir, a good day!
911 cut me off, and ,in fear, I imagined,

The weird old creation above shoved his bag in.
Quick! The children!

How could he?

Why, bats poo on rooves!

Quick boil all the soot, and the soles of their hooves,

And that man-must be crazy-all clean- das is goot!
But, I must be hallucinating,(Must be my patients)

There are deer on the roof too, (A condition that's latent?)
He has called them by name, so strange and bizarre,

Saying "on Donner, On, Blitzen,"

"Fly, Rudolph, and Bonghead, and Cutie, and Vixen"
Poor old soul must be saying,

From unimaginable dendritic tangles,

Why he's chosen the roof,

Where his dementia rangles,
Donner means "done, eh?"

From the blitzen of drugs,

And Rudolph, his old friend,

From a tough gang of thugs?
That vixen from the twenties,

He remembers her well,

But I'm sure she's departed

and now he's IN HELL.
Where's my kit,one more client-

There's no time to lose!It's back to the grind and on wi' my shoes!
I gathered (much later) and really, how quaint,

That he carried toys for children,calling himself a saint.

Santa Claus was his name,

And he muttered "Saint Nick"
Note to self:Check the ground for some tainted oil slick.

Perhaps it's from Russia,

Then again, from a cat,

But there must be some truth to this schiz-Fancy that!
Morning broke,Christmas Day,

And the kiddies were fine,

But Dad suffered hypothermia, and haematoma, this time.
Ah, me(said the Doctor)

Anything for the kids,

But he slunk (cause he stunk from last night) onto the skids.
He skied and he wailed

For a full week, to say,

I love you, dear children,(Though Daddys' away)
You'll always be well,

That's my present to you,

And there'll be no more hippies.

I'll swear that, to you.
We'll take little Santa And study him - parfait,

And then Happy New Year to the dear-Take 'im away!
..................................................................................................................................................................

There is also a site full of happy poetry just like that right on this URL I'm about to post..


Laugh lots, go ahead, link to the poems below...December won't seem so awfully depressing.


Night Before Christmas Parodies


Gayla, a good gift would be a call from you!
Happy Something?




























































Sunday, March 15, 2009

Do You Love Photography?

Cover of book Meeting Ananda
The Deep Purpleness of Our Heritage

When I chose images for my little photo arts book, I found that my heritage quest and the explorations that I have made in Eastern North America matched up with some of the themes and discoveries that I have mentioned in my work, Meeting Ananda Bodhi - Heavenly Enlightenment .

Cover of photo book
More than a few images spoke to me, and in depth, about the profound history behind the religions of Christianity, Judaism, and even Wicca!

Perhaps you understand the micro photonic images in plants, or, like me, you can see where pigment or gem has come from, and what history it has been made to portray.
Most of my images are made for meditative spirits like you.

My first education was as a Material Artist, majoring in Metal Arts. Work over 45 years has sensitized my vision to understanding earth, and strolling through its mysteries and messages.

I hope that you will love these images the way that I do.
Deep Purple started with a little photo essay I made for my website, Herbs by Northdays Image. Although some of my herb study shows in the book, the name Deep Purple expresses a love of the spiritual in all things. My theme name comes from an early 20th century music score, and song, by that name, by Peter Rose.

My journey made me a pop-up mini-Publisher (albeit of my own work) and I am publishing my book, Deep Purple, under the name "Natural Light". It has a Canadian ISBN number, although it can be obtained from the book manufacturer, Lulu, an US firm.

Lulu.com also lets you download an online version of a photography book. My download price for 100 pages of images is half that of the printed work.
One of most delightful discoveries I have made about becoming a Canadian publisher is that you do not pay a company to produce a library number (ISBN) for you. Instead, you donate several copies of your work to a government library for Canadiana. It is really very charming, and I am (for once) delighted with the Government of Canada!
You can find my work on Lulu.com, either in the books' description page, or on my Lulu storefront.LINK TO: Deep Purple, to view the book description.

If you have questions about the content of Deep Purple, or wish to comment about anything, feel free to add your perspective here.