soft-boiled essays

I’ve been into softer looking styles. Putting the images I like together, I think about someone who is the opposite of Phillip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler’s hard boiled detective.

 

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Catching Up

It’s been a long time, a few years, since I wrote in here. I stopped blogging when life got hectic and had a truly crazy person episode. The thing is, since I grew up with Livejournal, having a place to sort my thoughts, put things I like, and reflect on my life really helps with my mental health.

Since I’ve been out of school, I’ve worked a couple jobs doing sales, fabrication, and teaching. Somehow,┬ámaking myself get out of bed every morning for the same reason each and every day made me feel like I was wasting my life.

I make less but spend less money doing what I do now, which is a mixture of astrology, teaching, design, and selling my art. I love the flexibility and the independence I have. I am more motivated when I get to take risks, rather than fearing them.

I do want to make the things I do, all really just hustles, more legitimate in some way. Something tells me that won’t happen, however, until I go through my Saturn return. Until then, I just gotta try as many things as possible.

Placeholders for Desire and other absurd stories

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Placeholders for Desire

Walter, aged ten, receives a goldfish for his tenth birthday. He realizes that the goldfish is by no means ordinary when it opens its mouth to speak, claiming to be the spirit of Merlin with three wishes to grant. Walter asks immediately for the bike he actually wanted for his birthday, instead of the goldfish he actually got. The next time around, Walter wishes on his sixteenth birthday for a new car, instead of the crappy bike he got. By the time Walter makes his third wish he is a young adult of twenty five working nine to five at a small start up after graduating from the state university with a business degree. “A million dollars,” he asks of the goldfish, using his last wish with an eager grin. Walter is arrested within the week for the manufacture and usage of counterfeit federal notes. He gets out on an insanity plea when the goldfish he claims as an accomplice is nowhere to be found.

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Originality as Original Sin

In my seventh grade social studies class we learned about Martin Luther’s 95 Theses what is now available on Wikipedia, that the nailing criticized the selling of indulgences as a financial transaction taking the place of original forgiveness of original sin of a Christianity that had been absorbed by the the economics of the times.

It’s easy to imagine a contemporary artist-monk nailing an anti-establishment manifesto to several pillars (thank God for photo copiers!) out crying with distaste the obscenities of art-as-high-value-commodities, art-spaces-as-business-centers practices along with the useless romanticism of auction house rituals and mega galleries. The original intentions and ethics of art have been lost with its life and use structured in the global marketplace.

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“I love you madly”

When I was in Germany I was invited by an Austrian friend to drink wine with him and a German at his apartment. We smoked Lucky Strikes in the small, one room studio near Offenbach. My friend showed us the scans on his computer of a book of portraits he had found in his Viennese art school. The faces of the people being represented were rendered in a post Picasso, gestural, expressionistic way, deformed by the accidents of paint. They stood on familiar ground between what is beauty and not beauty in the accidental, the representative, the abstract – old, familiar conflicts making old, familiar pictures.

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