11 Temmuz 2012 Çarşamba
10 Temmuz 2012 Salı
9 Temmuz 2012 Pazartesi
Sudo De Tanto Sobrepensar
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Meras observaciones mÃas, desde distintas ventanas del alma, distintos momentos y memorias. He llegado a reconocer que soy un ser en ausencia de organización psicológica, identificándome siempre con aquel que me recuerda ciertos rasgos de lo que fui, de lo que soy, de lo que me gustarÃa ser. No tengo una crisis de identidad, pero nunca he creÃdo que el ser humano posea una individualidad definida.
Ninguna persona es la misma por un largo perÃodo de tiempo, se puede evidenciar claramente bajo la auto-observación seria y profunda, luego de despertar consciencia. Esta multiplicidad psicológica se dice llamar alter ego, pero ciertamente yo considero que el humano solo está en constante cambio, en una constante discusión interna de sobre quien prevalece, de quien controla el cerebro intelectual, el centro emocional, el que obtiene la supremacÃa sobre el cuerpo. El que ignore esta lucha en sÃ, no ha evidenciado los innumerables cambios y contradicciones de cada quien, o al menos no en distintas y especÃficas situaciones. Ese otro tú que se descontrola cuando te pasas de copas; ese otro tú que domina cuando te enamoras, siguiendo del tÃpico acto de “yo no era asÔ; odias la vida y al minuto sientes eterna felicidad, entre otros muchos ejemplos.
Vivir en un mundo sin concordancia, es claramente vivir como humanos, débiles ante en conflicto continuo y la falta de voluntad ante las miles personas viviendo bajo tu adorada y “’única” personalidad. Lo sé, es una desafortunada realidad, y la forma de solventar esta lucha imparable es… pues no lo sé. No soy ninguna Freud del siglo XXI, pero es obvio que cada quien posee las llaves para su propio entendimiento. Realmente, quién soy yo para dar consejos de auto-comprensión, cuando millones de veces me he visto presa de las diversas circunstancias que me victimizan, pocas veces consintiendo el hecho de que la vida es ilusoria y fugaz, de que la muerte últimamente reduce a cenizas las vanidades del mundo. Indiscutiblemente, la vida es un problema que nadie entiende, y no pretendo volverme existencialista.
Sé que no soy sólo yo la que piensa esto.
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| Forces of Some Nature. Erik Parker, 2004 Mi mente es algo asÃ. |
Meras observaciones mÃas, desde distintas ventanas del alma, distintos momentos y memorias. He llegado a reconocer que soy un ser en ausencia de organización psicológica, identificándome siempre con aquel que me recuerda ciertos rasgos de lo que fui, de lo que soy, de lo que me gustarÃa ser. No tengo una crisis de identidad, pero nunca he creÃdo que el ser humano posea una individualidad definida.
Ninguna persona es la misma por un largo perÃodo de tiempo, se puede evidenciar claramente bajo la auto-observación seria y profunda, luego de despertar consciencia. Esta multiplicidad psicológica se dice llamar alter ego, pero ciertamente yo considero que el humano solo está en constante cambio, en una constante discusión interna de sobre quien prevalece, de quien controla el cerebro intelectual, el centro emocional, el que obtiene la supremacÃa sobre el cuerpo. El que ignore esta lucha en sÃ, no ha evidenciado los innumerables cambios y contradicciones de cada quien, o al menos no en distintas y especÃficas situaciones. Ese otro tú que se descontrola cuando te pasas de copas; ese otro tú que domina cuando te enamoras, siguiendo del tÃpico acto de “yo no era asÔ; odias la vida y al minuto sientes eterna felicidad, entre otros muchos ejemplos.
Vivir en un mundo sin concordancia, es claramente vivir como humanos, débiles ante en conflicto continuo y la falta de voluntad ante las miles personas viviendo bajo tu adorada y “’única” personalidad. Lo sé, es una desafortunada realidad, y la forma de solventar esta lucha imparable es… pues no lo sé. No soy ninguna Freud del siglo XXI, pero es obvio que cada quien posee las llaves para su propio entendimiento. Realmente, quién soy yo para dar consejos de auto-comprensión, cuando millones de veces me he visto presa de las diversas circunstancias que me victimizan, pocas veces consintiendo el hecho de que la vida es ilusoria y fugaz, de que la muerte últimamente reduce a cenizas las vanidades del mundo. Indiscutiblemente, la vida es un problema que nadie entiende, y no pretendo volverme existencialista.
Sé que no soy sólo yo la que piensa esto.
Tick, Tock
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Asfixiada en tu marco cronometrado, sin control ni dominio, sin pausa. Dices ser el que cura las heridas más profundas; quizás curas lo que la razón no puede. Lo que es cierto, es que nos encontramos destinados a que nos mates, nos hagas esclavos de la búsqueda de una eternidad marchita que huye y nos arrastra consigo.
Me enloqueces, siento que te malgasto y tú me malgastas a mÃ. He desafiado la vida solo pocas veces, breves perÃodos concedidos por el destino para no morir en deseo y excusas. Pensé que esos momentos nunca acabarÃan, pero me arrebataste cada instante sin compasión, aún cuando más lo disfrutaba. Dices que resuelves nuestras dudas y dolores, que los años enseñan lo que los dÃas no conocen. En lo que a mà concierne, lo que dices es una gran mentira. Aún cultivando la amistad, debilitas el amor y desluces la belleza externa, permitiéndonos sólo poseer el pasado, y el futuro, asà no queramos, es más tuyo que nuestro.
Tiempo, protagonista arbitrario de la vida misma, agente efÃmero del tormento, te llevaste contigo mis mejores recuerdos, aquellos que prevalecen en el desván de mi memoria. Me limito a flotar en tu espacio, dilatando mi tiempo de vivir. No contaré tus presuntuosos minutos, contaré sensaciones, y cada momento será un dÃa. Fingiré que el tiempo detenido que tanto añoro existe, y que no controlas mi vida a tu placer.
No sé por qué escribo para ti, a ti que nada te importa. Eres una fuerza imparable que espera por nadie, un caminar sin rumbo por una vÃa infinita, una causa perdida. Me quejo de tu impaciencia, en ocasiones de tu monotonÃa, pero principalmente de tu falta de piedad. Eres absurdo e irremediable, indigno de mis interminables por qués. Pretenderé conocer por qué vienes y vas a tu gusto, susurrando en mi oÃdo sin perdón que todo está por acabar.
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| The Persistence Of Memory. Savlador DalÃ, 1931 El tiempo derrite los últimos segundos de mi sueño. |
Asfixiada en tu marco cronometrado, sin control ni dominio, sin pausa. Dices ser el que cura las heridas más profundas; quizás curas lo que la razón no puede. Lo que es cierto, es que nos encontramos destinados a que nos mates, nos hagas esclavos de la búsqueda de una eternidad marchita que huye y nos arrastra consigo.
Me enloqueces, siento que te malgasto y tú me malgastas a mÃ. He desafiado la vida solo pocas veces, breves perÃodos concedidos por el destino para no morir en deseo y excusas. Pensé que esos momentos nunca acabarÃan, pero me arrebataste cada instante sin compasión, aún cuando más lo disfrutaba. Dices que resuelves nuestras dudas y dolores, que los años enseñan lo que los dÃas no conocen. En lo que a mà concierne, lo que dices es una gran mentira. Aún cultivando la amistad, debilitas el amor y desluces la belleza externa, permitiéndonos sólo poseer el pasado, y el futuro, asà no queramos, es más tuyo que nuestro.
Tiempo, protagonista arbitrario de la vida misma, agente efÃmero del tormento, te llevaste contigo mis mejores recuerdos, aquellos que prevalecen en el desván de mi memoria. Me limito a flotar en tu espacio, dilatando mi tiempo de vivir. No contaré tus presuntuosos minutos, contaré sensaciones, y cada momento será un dÃa. Fingiré que el tiempo detenido que tanto añoro existe, y que no controlas mi vida a tu placer.
No sé por qué escribo para ti, a ti que nada te importa. Eres una fuerza imparable que espera por nadie, un caminar sin rumbo por una vÃa infinita, una causa perdida. Me quejo de tu impaciencia, en ocasiones de tu monotonÃa, pero principalmente de tu falta de piedad. Eres absurdo e irremediable, indigno de mis interminables por qués. Pretenderé conocer por qué vienes y vas a tu gusto, susurrando en mi oÃdo sin perdón que todo está por acabar.
RANDOM
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Web of lies. They might be intangible but they sure hurt as hell. I have been told too honest, too mean, too harsh, and too direct. I have never opposed or thought otherwise. However, I have a perfectly acceptable reason to my never-understood “sincere” behavior. Karma is the biggest bitch you will ever meet. You see, I wish to never encounter with Karma. This immeasurable and transcendental cosmic energy will provide retaliations to your own actions, and if you lie, cheat of perform what they refer to as “a negative action” you will get you pay, and hell yes you will get it. Deceit, will screw my Karma up. No, I am not an angel fallen from Eden, but seriously, if you could decide what type of effect will you eventually run up to in your life wouldn’t you select a positive one? So why lie then? Why pretend to “think” or “feel” if it is clearly not the true? Why aren’t you concern about your Karma? You are clearly not prioritizing accurately.
Web of lies. They might be intangible but they sure hurt as hell. I have been told too honest, too mean, too harsh, and too direct. I have never opposed or thought otherwise. However, I have a perfectly acceptable reason to my never-understood “sincere” behavior. Karma is the biggest bitch you will ever meet. You see, I wish to never encounter with Karma. This immeasurable and transcendental cosmic energy will provide retaliations to your own actions, and if you lie, cheat of perform what they refer to as “a negative action” you will get you pay, and hell yes you will get it. Deceit, will screw my Karma up. No, I am not an angel fallen from Eden, but seriously, if you could decide what type of effect will you eventually run up to in your life wouldn’t you select a positive one? So why lie then? Why pretend to “think” or “feel” if it is clearly not the true? Why aren’t you concern about your Karma? You are clearly not prioritizing accurately.
My First Time Visiting Stone Mountain
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Lost in an open sea of fugitive memoirs
Feeling banishment while walking the cosmic rout
Marveling at the moon where we stood
Faced with the silvering over the evening of life
The stars becoming apparent to my sight
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| STONE MOUNTAIN, ATLANTA. One of the best days of my life. |
Feeling banishment while walking the cosmic rout
Marveling at the moon where we stood
Faced with the silvering over the evening of life
The stars becoming apparent to my sight
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| I proclaimed Stone Mountain my piece of moon on earth. Perfect. |
Random 2.0
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It is easy to lose oneself in a subjective world, where the aesthetic perception falls in the conscience of whom dears to nourish from someone’s work. Someone, contributing with a fervent desire of transmitting motivations and meanings, a symbolic narrative with an existential problematic, in occasions difficult to understand, to recreate. It is just the way art is. Always enclosing an inspirational concept, schematizing the mysteries of human condition, the search for identity, liberal expression, and forbidden topics –morbid, sexual, fantastic- I will never finish. I admire whoever possesses a vehement appetite for the renewal of artistic languages that sets free the greatest minds in the world. The artist, materializes his inner vision, his reality, and awakens bewilderment in every human thirsty for a new beginning.
Yes, art does inspire. Wandering in a color abyss, in a world of hidden secrets, brings peace to my delirium. Art is an incurable disease, a path with no return. It aids the comprehension of the unspoken under the apparent truth. It is passion, to free oneself from the constraints of rationalism, an eternal instant of wisdom. It is, and will always be, the divine emotional reflection of the intangible.
Yes, art does inspire me.
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| Watercolor No 13. Vasily Kandinsky, 1913. Art inspires in mysterious ways. |
It is easy to lose oneself in a subjective world, where the aesthetic perception falls in the conscience of whom dears to nourish from someone’s work. Someone, contributing with a fervent desire of transmitting motivations and meanings, a symbolic narrative with an existential problematic, in occasions difficult to understand, to recreate. It is just the way art is. Always enclosing an inspirational concept, schematizing the mysteries of human condition, the search for identity, liberal expression, and forbidden topics –morbid, sexual, fantastic- I will never finish. I admire whoever possesses a vehement appetite for the renewal of artistic languages that sets free the greatest minds in the world. The artist, materializes his inner vision, his reality, and awakens bewilderment in every human thirsty for a new beginning.
Yes, art does inspire. Wandering in a color abyss, in a world of hidden secrets, brings peace to my delirium. Art is an incurable disease, a path with no return. It aids the comprehension of the unspoken under the apparent truth. It is passion, to free oneself from the constraints of rationalism, an eternal instant of wisdom. It is, and will always be, the divine emotional reflection of the intangible.
Yes, art does inspire me.
8 Temmuz 2012 Pazar
Ingrid Van Nyman's Pippi Longstocking
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Soon Drawn and Quarterly is going to release the original comic book versions of Pippy Longstocking which were written by Astrid Lindgren herself (!) and illustrated by the original illustrator of the Pippi Longstocking books namely, Ingrid Van Nyman. I myself grew up with the Pippi Books illustrated by Walter Scharnweber (the German version I guess) which I am quite fond of. Having said that I am super excited to find the work of Nyman and am already totally in love with her now. Such a fun feel to them, so much imagination in there and I love the colours. It's crazy to think that she ended up tragically taking her own life. What a tragedy. She was so fantastic!
Soon Drawn and Quarterly is going to release the original comic book versions of Pippy Longstocking which were written by Astrid Lindgren herself (!) and illustrated by the original illustrator of the Pippi Longstocking books namely, Ingrid Van Nyman. I myself grew up with the Pippi Books illustrated by Walter Scharnweber (the German version I guess) which I am quite fond of. Having said that I am super excited to find the work of Nyman and am already totally in love with her now. Such a fun feel to them, so much imagination in there and I love the colours. It's crazy to think that she ended up tragically taking her own life. What a tragedy. She was so fantastic!
Winsor McCay
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There is no doubt that Little Nemo in Slumberland by the great Winsor McCay is amazing and completely ahead of it's time. Here are only a very few of the many many, beyond imaginative strips. There used to be a fantastic book that had a collection of the weekly strips in it but it's currently out of print. Let's hope not for long. I'll make the next entry about more on Mc Cay. Here's some art to get you interested to know moooore in the meantime and I found a really great blog entry on the prolific McCay here on this blog called Kleefeld on Comics
Little Nemo In Slumberland
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Here is a great quote from a great site about Winsor Mc Cay, and his amazingly groundbreaking comic strip Little Nemo in Slumberland.
His most famous work, Little Nemo in Slumberland. Little Nemo , which ran from 1905 to 1911, is the pinnacle of comic strip art in the first decade of the 20th century. It displays an unparalleled application of Art Nouveau graphic style, translating sinewy, irregular forms and rhythms into a delightfully decorative comic strip design. The strips related the fantastic adventures which befell the child Little Nemo, who always woke up in the last panel of the comic strip.
Ezra Jack Keats
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One of the things I love the most about teaching is that it's such a great motivator to expand my own knowledge of the rich history of illustration. Every time I look at my notes for the session of my class that deals with the history of the subject, I find about ten-gazillion illustrators, printing processes or other things related that I want to know more about and pass onto my students. This time around I did a little bit of research on Ezra Jack Keats. These two sites here and here have been helpful for me; one of them being the Ezra Jack Keats foundation which also shows a photo sequence taken of a little boy.. who was the inspiration for Keat's most famous Peter Stories. I love that they put this piece of inspiration up on the site because it demonstrates so clearly and perfectly how whole entire stories can be crafted out of images.
A couple of these images are taken from a fantastic blog I just found which is all about Vintage Picture books. The blog is called "My Vintage Book Collection in Blog Form" and here is a link to it. Thanks Mallory for scanning these for us! :)
One of the things I love the most about teaching is that it's such a great motivator to expand my own knowledge of the rich history of illustration. Every time I look at my notes for the session of my class that deals with the history of the subject, I find about ten-gazillion illustrators, printing processes or other things related that I want to know more about and pass onto my students. This time around I did a little bit of research on Ezra Jack Keats. These two sites here and here have been helpful for me; one of them being the Ezra Jack Keats foundation which also shows a photo sequence taken of a little boy.. who was the inspiration for Keat's most famous Peter Stories. I love that they put this piece of inspiration up on the site because it demonstrates so clearly and perfectly how whole entire stories can be crafted out of images.A couple of these images are taken from a fantastic blog I just found which is all about Vintage Picture books. The blog is called "My Vintage Book Collection in Blog Form" and here is a link to it. Thanks Mallory for scanning these for us! :)
Cool Books by Cool Kids:)
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This post is long overdue.
I have been wanting to do a post about kids MAKING books and illustrating them for a long time. So when I recently did an author presentation at the Cunningham Elementary School here in Vancouver, I really couldn't put it off any longer. After I showed them the books I made, I got to see some books that they had made and that was of course really fun for me! Here are just a very very few of some seriously hilarious but also fantastic book covers. The kids at Cunningham are great and so are their teachers. It was so cool to see so much fantastic artwork up in the halls and I loved that they had already made their own books. Very cool.
These pictures are also from a book made by a very clever kid who doesn't go to Cunningham though. His mom took one of my illustration courses and gave me this book made by her super talented son at the end of class. I really love everything about it from the way he re-purposed an ordinary journal to make the book to the use of two panels for every page of his book. Well done Kiernan and thanks so much to you and all the kids at Cunningham too for showing me your awesome books!
You guys are my inspiration!
This post is long overdue.I have been wanting to do a post about kids MAKING books and illustrating them for a long time. So when I recently did an author presentation at the Cunningham Elementary School here in Vancouver, I really couldn't put it off any longer. After I showed them the books I made, I got to see some books that they had made and that was of course really fun for me! Here are just a very very few of some seriously hilarious but also fantastic book covers. The kids at Cunningham are great and so are their teachers. It was so cool to see so much fantastic artwork up in the halls and I loved that they had already made their own books. Very cool.
These pictures are also from a book made by a very clever kid who doesn't go to Cunningham though. His mom took one of my illustration courses and gave me this book made by her super talented son at the end of class. I really love everything about it from the way he re-purposed an ordinary journal to make the book to the use of two panels for every page of his book. Well done Kiernan and thanks so much to you and all the kids at Cunningham too for showing me your awesome books!
You guys are my inspiration!
7 Temmuz 2012 Cumartesi
Little Girl, French Braid
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"Look! Mama painted the sky!"
This is what she said the first time she saw a pretty pink sunset, and was old enough to have the words to put to it. I replied, "oh, that's sweet baby, but Mama couldn't do that! It's God who paints the sky and makes all the beautiful things in the world around us--just so He can show us how much He loves us."
So now when she admires a sunset she says, "Look! Jesus painted the sunset! He's in the sky and He's in the trees and He's in the birds ... and He's in my heart."
Eowyn knows her Mama loves to make beautiful things, and she's learning that God makes beautiful things for her to enjoy. Now she's realizing more and more that she herself is a vessel of beauty. I love watching this consciousness emerge, and I pray for the wisdom to guide her to temper that beauty with gentleness and generosity.
This was her first french braid, and not my best work (ok, she's only three and still pretty wiggly!). It fell out within 20 minutes, but for those 20 minutes she knew she was beautiful. Eowyn is spunky and fairly rough-and-tumble for a cautious first-born, but she loves being a girl--twirling in her "dancin' shows" (aka dresses); painting her fingernails; posing for the camera; and now, finally, fixing her hair (thanks to the wonderful influence of a gorgeous eight-year-old and the rest of her beautiful family who recently visited us from Colorado)!
In a day or two I'll post some photos of Eowyn and "her Chloe" posing together in Hamburg--they were quite the lovely pair of ladies!
"Look! Mama painted the sky!"
This is what she said the first time she saw a pretty pink sunset, and was old enough to have the words to put to it. I replied, "oh, that's sweet baby, but Mama couldn't do that! It's God who paints the sky and makes all the beautiful things in the world around us--just so He can show us how much He loves us."
So now when she admires a sunset she says, "Look! Jesus painted the sunset! He's in the sky and He's in the trees and He's in the birds ... and He's in my heart."
Eowyn knows her Mama loves to make beautiful things, and she's learning that God makes beautiful things for her to enjoy. Now she's realizing more and more that she herself is a vessel of beauty. I love watching this consciousness emerge, and I pray for the wisdom to guide her to temper that beauty with gentleness and generosity.
This was her first french braid, and not my best work (ok, she's only three and still pretty wiggly!). It fell out within 20 minutes, but for those 20 minutes she knew she was beautiful. Eowyn is spunky and fairly rough-and-tumble for a cautious first-born, but she loves being a girl--twirling in her "dancin' shows" (aka dresses); painting her fingernails; posing for the camera; and now, finally, fixing her hair (thanks to the wonderful influence of a gorgeous eight-year-old and the rest of her beautiful family who recently visited us from Colorado)!
In a day or two I'll post some photos of Eowyn and "her Chloe" posing together in Hamburg--they were quite the lovely pair of ladies!
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