In Creativity...
Renouncing Art
583 days ago | Creative | CommentToday, I quit the Icelandic Festival Fine Arts Show, and will not be entering again.
This act has not been done because of the organization of the show. Rather, the organizer – Lebeau Jakobson – is an incredible woman who does an excellent job year after year.
The reasoning is because the judge, Leonard Marcoe, a University of Manitoba Fine Arts graduate and a Fine Arts lecturer, shows commendation for “creativity and innovation” to something that shows neither that came from – fancy that – a Fine Arts student. It is, pardon the crudeness, nothing more than one big circle jerk in their favour.
My objection to the Fine Arts program is something I actively promote, but this has brought it to another level entirely. The program and its respect has only lasted through sheer numbers, both monetary and population.
I am no longer to be called an artist. I am a designer. Art is design without purpose, and things without purpose have no value. Call me designer, photographer, painter, typographer, but never artist or associate me with the word, as it is a filthy word with no value.
I’m no longer interested in being an active participant or volunteer for the festival. After spending the entire holiday taking pictures for the art show, my winning entry was left completely unacknowledged in the program, and the photograph itself was cluttered with text beyond recognition. I would have thought it was oversight, were it not for the fact that the photography contest’s page seemed to need one more fish-gutter advertisement rather than commending its participants. Sandcastles gain printed praise, but people who take their work seriously gain nothing.
I really, really liked entering the art show. It was the main reason I participated in the festival at all, and was one of the few things I actively looked forward to. This is an action of objection on my part, not of bitterness. I am disappointed in the judge’s selection to the extent that I will no longer be involved.
I have no interest in being associated with something so self-serving as to avoid doing something right.
Homework: The Failure
722 days ago | Creative | Comment [2]- Making things for other people.
- [deleted, I’d rather not say]
- This Page Is Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional!
- Rain (the Garbage song is particularly appropriate)
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Failure.
Never Relative
741 days ago | Creative | Comment [2]Her name was Never. She didn’t really mind it, nor did she remember why her name was Never, but it was Never all the same.
She held a bit of a grudge against the universe. After all, being called Never resulted in quite a bit of childhood anxiety. On one rather dull Thursday she concluded that, were she given the chance, she’d let the universe know exactly how she felt. This, however, was a situation she never expected, and continued with her rather common life.
Today, Never was at a bus stop. It was a relatively common occurrence with her – after all, there were places she generally enjoyed going, and there were places she generally enjoyed being. She was content with her routine; it was relatively common amongst many people she knew, as well as many people she did not know.
Never always sat at the same point on the bench, and always listened to the same music. She always arrived four minutes early, and always hummed along to the same two chords at two minutes and thirty-five seconds into her wait. She was quite looking forward to her morning routine – it made her day go by that much easier.
Today, a young man was sitting in her spot. This was not relatively common.
Never didn’t know what to do. Her entire day was ruined. She paused, uncomfortable, and searched her brain for what to do. She couldn’t remember a day where she didn’t perform her morning routine (well, except for weekends, but she generally slept on weekends, rendering those activities moot in dealing with the situation).
With a great deal of hesitance, she sat down on the opposite side of the bench. She didn’t quite feel like listening to her music today, or humming. She merely looked at the road, watching the same cars go by, waiting for the same bus to roll in.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” the young man said.
She turned and looked at him. He didn’t wait for an answer, and continued.
“My entire life I’ve been waiting for you. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’ve had quite a strange last few days that led me to this spot and I realize now that this was the reason. I’m supposed to save the world from a relatively uncommon fate, and I think you hold the key in doing so.”
This was certainly not a relatively common thing. Never opened her mouth to speak.
“Now, keep in mind, I’m still relatively unclear on the situation,” he continued before she could utter a word. “It’s a series of rather strange coincidences. You see, a few weeks ago I was in Manhattan, and as I left it, it disappeared.
“Then I went to Manchester. The moment my plane took off… no more Manchester. It seems that wherever I go, things cease to be. It’s a rather perturbing situation, and whenever I try to tell anyone about it, they disappear too, immediately after I acknowledge them.
“Moscow, Shanghai, Osaka, Africa – all gone. Then I went to the stars for a bit, Sirius disappeared a week ago and no one seemed to notice. It was cloudy the last few days, I suppose. Andromeda didn’t even seem to show any sort of a fight.
“I’ve been traveling quite a bit, you see, and everywhere I go seems to go itself. I know I’m not the cause, but rather the catalyst. I’m certain there’s some method to stop this, and I’m almost certain that it’s not a good thing that the universe is ending.
“And… you didn’t poof. I acknowledged your existence, and you’re still here. That’s why I believe you’re rather important in solving this. And why I would request your help in saving the universe before it disappears completely.
“But I think before you answer, I really should ask you your name. If we’re to be saving the world together, I think it’s only proper,” he finished and patiently waited for an answer.
She stopped for a moment, and watched the bus pull up and its doors slide open to greet her. She smiled at the man and stood up.
“Never,” she answered, and stepped onto the bus.
Note: Bet you feel rather silly, don’t you?
Life Lessons, in Pseudocode
742 days ago | Creative | Commentif (postHighSchool==collegeAttend) {
while (GPA < 4.0) { work += harder; GPA=work; work++; }
function college(work) {
do {
work += harder;
GPA=work;
work++;
}
while (GPA < 4.0);
}
if ( classRank == 1 ) {
do { money--; }
while (summer == true;);
guilt++;
sadness++;
corporateJob=corporateJob+1;
work = work+work+work;
money--;
debt = 0 + debtOfOthers;
}
else { fail(); happy++; crappyJob=true; }
}
elseif (postHighSchool==doNothing) {
freeTime++;
fun++;
debtOfSelf=debtOfOthers;
debtOfSelf=(debt*-1);
gotoAndPlay(Japan);
}
else{ construction(); daddysMoney==everything; }
Lesson learned. Also, this is really bad code. I think there are chunks of Javascript, Actionscript, PHP, and maybe even some VB in there. Not sure, they all kind of mushed together.
Where's the gotoAndPlay(var); for the postHighSchool variable that ran the college function?
Untitled Poem #2
749 days ago | Creative | Comment [1]Mechanical minds, reminiscent thoughts
Abstract synapses and fractalline eyes
And a rage of thunder, like wildfire
Messages spread, episodes wise
To ever-changing riverbeds
Halted progress, vegetative
Tape blank; no data available.