Thursday, December 6, 2007

Artsy-fartsy

Gastronomics, a new field of study.

Seriously think about it; arts stimulate the senses with skillful crafting and farts hit two senses. What the artist ate would become a topic of talk and consideration, "is that, sniff sniff, Limburger cheese with a vinaigrette?". This medium also stimulates the ears. Is it a dry puff or a squelch? One large release or a tractor's worth of put-puts? Snobs would have something new to savor in art galleries: community performance pieces. Only those who paid for tickets could enjoy the exhibit and catch the fleeting mingling of artist's wind passing through the halls. Such works would have to consume an Artist's life, days or weeks before their release. Everything the Artist eats would be considered: fiber? -too risky. jalepenos? they'd burn patrons nostrils, adding tactile sensation to the show, good choice. Truly brave Artists would let their audience know what goes on through their insides, revealing some nakedness to spectators (risky in a room of the immature) so their work would not be stifled by pantaloons.
But the sensations these works would give when displayed are just veneer covering the shape of an Artist's greater meaning. Poots are ethereal samples of decay from the human body, records of what we consume. In sampling them we'd come to dwell on mortality, the human condition as exemplified in specific Artists' lives and sensations mysterious. They are not pleasant sensations because death is not a pleasant thing and so should not be portrayed in a medium beautifully. I hope if a museum did open a wing for Artsy-Fartsy work you wouldn't raise a stink.

Aspirations

I want to have works I will peruse and enjoy later in life. It'd be a sweet bonus if other humans enjoyed'em too.
The greatest deeds of mankind so far, that I know of, have been done in videogames. That's not a joke. Videogames are microcosms of existence and take any parts from our reality to make digital similitudes. Architecture, music, storylines, shooting, reading, design, community, comics and more have been done in videogames. What hasn't been included in these worlds continuities can be because the medium allows for any interactions routed through electronics. Pretty inclusive, eh? [I find it difficult to explain my intentions because specific examples would take pages, curt explanation begets inquiry, and the examples are diverse that all-inclusive references must be vague in meaning]
I will occupy myself with realizing some of my imaginings. Whether I'm paid to or not I'll but preferably I'll have sufficient influence before death to disperse labor among other men for projects beyond a single worker's ability. Imagine if others were eager to work with you in the making of a movie or comic so you could avail yourself of ideas and record them in forms that'd re-delight chambers of your brain closed for years. Getting ideas?
Realistically, with little hope, I resign/prepare myself for some shitty job where I'll occasionally need make some promise of what the money will be good for to convince myself to go through the next odious task. But it isn't so fantastic to think, in the course of my lifetime, I could reach sufficient rank in a company or aggregate enough influence by other means to turn out projects in one medium. If only one medium...

Note: I don't well-convey above that it isn't the record of the work only that's desirable. Taking part in the making of something cool, knowing that it will be, and considering coolness (for what's a cool thing made of?) are pleasures in themselves. It's nice to think there's another good thing in the world, something new to enjoy, and I'd a part in it.

Joker or Actor

Sitting at this computer I was across from a pretty woman or atleast a woman who manages makeup well-enough to mask ugliness. Chalk up such observations to idleness, quick wits, or masculine drive. She presented either a pleasant background to the computer screen, akin to a mountain-range an old man may appreciate during lulls in thought, or a distraction from legitimate exercise of mental faculty. While my mind was elsewhere she'd went to chat with a friend at another computer and a fat chick had lumbered over to take what she'd a right to presume unoccupied. So my view was unfavorably replaced. As I gazed around (all these observations before I started writing here) I noticed a guy had just come into the room who looks like a relative of..
The image “http://bostonist.com/attachments/boston_caroline/092807_david_olsen.JPG” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

It is awful like someone were telling me a joke and I get how it could be funny but don't laugh. I'm still drowsy.
A Peruvian waiter the elder of my sisters took a picture of brings to mind interesting possibilities. She showed me his picture because we look an awful lot alike. (sorry it's not available for posting). There's the old German idea of dopplegangers: that we've got duplicates of ourselves somewhere out in the world which we may encounter to fantastic result. If you want to be boring you could leave our phenotypes at similar genotypes owning to a common group of ancestor-traits that're expressed in us both. That idea has some neatness to it: imagine a version of yourself in every culture on earth: Chinese you, British you, Mongolian you, Ethiopian you, etcetera. It'd be like having a superteam. My guess is that a German's genes are what we share.

An existentialist maxim I'm put in mind of is that all of life is a joke so try to get it. Not to mean that there's meaning but that the surprises can all be enjoyed like a punchline. Our lives could be thought of as parts in a game or play and we get to adlib. So let's pretend to be the characters we want written in and then the story will be more to our liking. In absence of justice or morality an existentialist must be pleased with such narcissist-flippancy.