Monday, May 16, 2011

finishing thought Part II

... continued from Unfinished thoughts Part 1
"Molik: Everybody should be completely free, with imagination and all that is necessary to stimulate a creative process, while making really clean actions."(p. 13)
This is the test for any working process. A pain of lack gives birth to possibility. We need to overcome obstacle. We need space around us and precious pockets of time wherein nothing is required then maybe something may occur. We need an intensified reach, indiscriminate exchanges that are often linked with notions of body memory. We need a sense of uncontainability, a transgression of boundaries, a porosity and indeed the conviviality, of what has been treated as opposed: information and matter, imaginative and biological, body and mind, organic and non-organic life.

:: Note :: ... after sessions of practicality ...

Monday, May 09, 2011

School Art

A wonderful moment at The Mendel Art Gallery of Saskatoon with the student artists talk. Since it's inauguration in 1972 the annual Spring School Art Exhibition has been a favorite of mine.
"School Art is in keeping with the vision of Gallery founder Fred Mendel. It was Mendel's conviction that art is for people of all ages and walks of life. (Folio MendelArtGallery Vol. 39, Issue 2: Spring 2011)

The young artist in the picture spoke with confidence and composure. Others were shy but all were received with genuine warmth. The Gallery was full of excitement and celebration articulating the joy of creativity. A grade one boy slouched against the wall hands in pockets casually confirmed "the cutting of his paper collage took a lot of time." Another self-composed youth produced a finished work which came from the study which now hung in the exhibition. Each work was treated with deserved respect. Afterall 200 artworks were selected from the 2,000 submitted pieces. Jurors considered the following factors:
Impact: an immediate chord
Authentic Expression: honestly envisioned & executed
Innovative or thoughtful use of materials: competent use
The elements of art and principles of design: color, composition, lines, texture, space.
Construction: physically well constructed
Individual merit: judged on its own merit
(from the handout: How Are Pieces Selected for School Art?)
There is a determined effort to select works from each and every school. This year I saw the gallery video taping chosen student artists for interviews. A commendable project. Looking forward to upcoming June events Shakespeare's Shadows Youth Theatre & SCYAP Urban Canvas.

:: Note :: ... the Artists Talk was held on mothers day ... a beautiful gift to all mothers ... took my mother who enjoyed herself immensely ... certainly hope that if the Gallery moves to a new location and is renamed that this School Art tradition continues in the spirit of serving the community ... by the way admission is free allowing all ages and status to participate in recognizing the importance of art ... also very much miss the Mendelog which had a more personal and community sharing feel ...

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Baal

ancient troubadour
dark glint
of violence
and amorality
inhabits stark
ugliness upfront
archetypal misogyny
nothingness

:: Note :: ... created as an erasure ... missing ...

Saturday, May 07, 2011

How much irony?

How much irony can one take? I ran away to get away from my Father but, I only fell in-likeness with a reflection of him. At first it was quite beautiful, not caring and witnessing him as I opened my tired eyes.

But as I grew farther away from the one man I hated I grew closer to a younger version of him. He was something I craved for - a bad boy. He had such a pretty face, marble blue eyes and honey coloured hair. He also had God-like hands that easily explored my body. He smelled like the ocean, so calm and quiet. He was what I adored, wanted, needed and craved for. And, just as I thought irony ended it spat more in my face.

He was like my silent addiction. Just like the one my father and him shared. As pure as the cocaine their body craved, I wanted our hearts to beat to the same rhythm. Was it even humanly possible to love a reflection of someone you HATED? But then again was I that rude to assume I was human? What if I was a lost soul, a sad ghost or a hideous monster?

He always gave me mixed signals, made me insecure and unsure of him, myself and our "Relationship". I was giving up but I never gave up until i get exactly what I wanted. And I wanted him so badly. To adore him and to victoriously call him mine. Was it a game? Or was it me making it into a game? All these questions clouded my mind night and day until he was near.

We both had the same mind set and easily made it into a game of some sort. We both knew the only way you lost was if the other fell for the opponent. And we were both too proud to admit that we both lost. So we did what was best and stuck thorns of jealousy into the others neck. The only cure was alcohol. We both ran to the cure and drank away the poison as quickly as we could . We both lost. But he was sadly one step ahead of me and played the card of ignorance. As it worked I felt unsure.

He came up behind me, took my pride, killed me and won.

:: Note :: ... writes & writes with courage ... every once in a while a student that attends my high school classes hands me scraps of writing ... the words always move me ... I've suggested & encouraged the collection of writings towards publishing ... offered & received permission to post on-line ... hope to see more ...

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Who will

Spent a few hours after teaching driving voters to their polling stations. A little bit of field work, I thought. The poverty was startling. Run-down apartment blocks, small dilapidated houses, streets dirty and pot-holed.

A single mother with four little ones leaving the oldest in charge bringing her nineteen year old to vote for the first time. They knew the party leader they wanted to vote for but not the name of the riding representative. They resided on a busy, noisy thoroughfare and when asked if it was loud replied yes it was a difficult place to live.

A talkative thirty something, labored breathing, living with his working girl friend collecting disability insurance after two bouts in the hospital dealing with lung cancer. Fighting to get re-trained, unable to pay for his drugs and therapy wondering how to survive.

Another thirty something coming out of a single room home with ten people crowded around a TV. He's the only one in possession of proper ID to vote. The next door neighbor kids ask what we're doing and learning about an election ask, "Can kids vote?"

Approached over ten people offering rides to their polling station if they wished. All of them declined. One stated, "I'll watch the winner on TV."

Got home and a bicycle rider cuts through my path asking for some spare change.

It was a disheartening experience especially later that night to witness a parade of clean cut talking heads in suits.

On twitter two former students tweet. One unable to hold back tears of joy on the historical election of a Green Party member. The other a wonderful cutting if not cynical observation about the future.

For the next 4-5 years, probably not a good idea to get sick, lose yr job, get old, or have a vagina.

Yes, who will speak for the disenfranchised.



:: Note :: ... We all live together barely moving out of our little "worlds" ...