Giles Weekly

a selection of short verse and such...

2011-01-13T19:18:00.000Z

Another's resemblance to ourselves

graphite & ink on laid envelope

Spoonfuls of saccharin dreams
Create pulsing headaches
And bile.

-----

The poet says lilacs are aromatic bushes of love. Bullshit.

-----

I don’t see you as my lover
But sometimes find you as more than contrite
At inappropriate times
Fix me a cheese sandwich.

-----

Peanuts, lightly salted
Now with fifty percent less sodium
Than a weathered crab man.

-----

I can make snakes out of clay
But not apologies out of mistakes
So, let me roll out this lump for you
Nice and long
A work of years if not minutes.

In a Word: ultroneous
In a Book: Little Black Book of Stories- A.S. Byatt
In a Song: i against i- Bad Brains

la fleur de la fleur

2010-09-22T19:02:00.000+01:00

la fleur de la fleur

computer manipulated scratchboard

our flower petal fell

today

and perfect as it was

i laughed

and went on with my egg

bereft

In a Word: idioglossia
In a Book: A Life of Picasso, The Triumphant Years - John Richardson

In a Song: Ghostified- Persian Claws

linen and leaves

2010-06-03T13:50:00.000+01:00

leaves and linen

photoshop drawing

Some losses can never be regained
Split drops of broken rain
Where sorrow seeps
Like an open wound
Leaving coppered stains
On linen and leaves.

In a Word: fescennine
In a Book: Lord Foul's Bane- Stephen R. Donaldson
In a Song: La Follia - Arcangelo Corelli

Untitled

2010-05-03T19:30:00.000+01:00

Untitled

Charcoal pencil on canvas board

3" x 5"

Two
I
We
Midnight goats
Chew
Walk
Glare
Chew

In a Word: quidam
In a Book: The Magic Mountain - Thomas Mann
In a Song: All the Big Trees - Riceboy Sleeps

pouring christs from tea

2010-04-20T16:58:00.000+01:00

pouring christs from tea

tea stains on paper

4" x 6"

Sometimes he walks half-erect

Hunkered over and worn
Moist bones broke for the marrow
His mouth a drunken incision
Dropping ashes, bitter and torn
He pours christs from his tea
Staining both paper and cloth
Before jumping from his light switch
To bed and dreams shadowed dark
With the bleating of sheep
And syncopated chords of Joy Division

In a Word:jacitation
In a Book: Strange Pilgrims- Gabriel Garcia Marquez
In a Song: Doodlin' - Horace Silver and the Jazz Mesengers

blood is thicker

2010-04-12T19:34:00.001+01:00

blood is thicker

ink on primed canvas paper

2" x 6"

blood is thicker

but wine is fine

for drowning

In a Word: maieutic
In a Book: Anathem- Neal Stephenson
In a Song: Blood - The Middle East

hung up

2010-04-08T19:38:00.002+01:00

hung up

ink on paper

5" x 2"

Somewhere here,
Scattered on the floor,
Are the remnants of childhood.

Somewhere there,
Bathed in amber light,
Our memory’s heart strings strumming

Somewhere here,
Laid bare to the bone,
Unopened letters once stood.

Somewhere there,
You await responses
That are no longer forthcoming.

Somewhere here,
On weary calf bone,
I always stand,
Less than anything you’ve ever known,
Like paper found in overcoats
Your grandfather used to own.

Lost and forgotten dreams,
Wracked in soaking moans,
You’ve already dreamt them,
And carried them home,
Somewhere there.

In a Word: velleity
In a Book: Anansi Boys - Neil Gaiman
In a Song: Svefn-g-englar - Sigur ros

after van gogh

2010-03-29T16:33:00.002+01:00

after van gogh

ink on post-it note

4" x 3"

Van Gogh drawings
Arranged on post-it
Notes are as easy as
Grappling with moral
Obscurities or
Giving more than
Half your liver away

In a Word: titubation
In a Book: The Lost Books of the Odyssey - Zachary Mason
In a Song: Dry - William Elliot Whitmore

stone dust

2010-03-25T17:15:00.002Z

stone dust

stone dust, charcoal and tea on laid paper

5" x 5"

the smell of stone

dusty, mineral, cool,

pungent, powdery bone

sits in my nose

an earthen concoction

inculcating

fulminating

one turgid explosion

chinese flower tea

2010-03-19T16:02:00.001Z

chinese flower tea

ink, watercolor and coffee on cardboard

7" x 4"

the smell of grounds for a mistake
pungent chicory and cedar flake
sweet to the touch, sweet on the lip
poison gets you down the line at stake

hide in a mountain, or her hip
there is no way in to give the slip
bracketed hunger and desire
writing out punctuated flesh scrip

green leaves floating inside your tea
the fates have paced your grassy lea
clouding your vision with salt-fire
a honey-fly stinging like a bee

no water-world can quench the pyre
carnal thoughts quiver, shake and perspire
passing moments like tadpoles teem
beautific, haloed, stagnant and dire

you are caught in a rushing stream,
sapped of strength, you give in to ache.

In a Word: daddock
In a Book: Dark Matter- Philip Kerr
In a Song: Like it or Not- Architecture in Helsinki

asha

2010-03-15T17:13:00.000Z

asha

charcoal on toned paper

4"x5"

how the corpse is dressed,

in taffeta or cold lace,

in silk, cotton or gauze,

says little about life

but, shown in light, blue-tinged, under porcelain sheen,

it falls into the place where driftwood is removed from beach by sea

where longing and regret cast sharp shadows

where lonliness is a wailing sound rippling a pond

where loss derives from being

here it resides by you, alone and full

in your book of remembrance

In a Word- obumbrate

In a Book- The Whale: In Search of the Giants of the Sea Philip Hoare

In a Song- Beat the Devil's Tattoo Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

An Indeterminate Hiatus

2009-09-14T13:31:00.003+01:00

Winter

Oil paint on Panel

(approx. 54”x 36”)

Autumn

Oil paint on Panel
(approx. 54”x 36”)

I have been unable to update this blog consistently over the last few months as I have been refocusing my energies away from sketches towards the development of more long-term projects (see most recent paintings above ) and frankly displaying multitudinous sketches of the same thing feels boring to me. So, until such time as I resume daily sketching activities that fit this blog I am suspending it. See you all whenever.

Eric in a Word: Whisternefet
Book of the Day: A Feast for Crows- George R.R. Martin
Song of the Day: Rugla -Amiina

Religious Figure of the Day: Susanoh

The Sketchbook Project - 8 (Symmetry)

2009-08-20T19:58:00.004+01:00

Preparing to teach Basic Design this fall, I’ve been thinking about symmetry and equilibrium a bit lately, particularly from a system approach. Some systems are stabilized at equilibrium and thrive there- say for instance an atom or molecule. Some systems thrive in a state of flux, of asymmetry, where certain elements are more necessary for the system to continue to exist. And some systems are asymmetrically self maintaining. It’s this third type of system that I am interested in. The classic example is a candle flame- combustion occurs above a threshold temperature, combustion induces convection that brings in fresh oxygen and gets rid of waste. Combustion also melts wax so that it can climb the wick and vaporize more wax to make it available for combustion. But it can only self maintain within specific environmental conditions. How does this relate to creativity, the making of and the viewing of art?

Eric in a Word: quaquaversal

Book of the Day: Ignore Everybody: And 39 Other Keys to Creativity - Hugh MacLeod

Song of the Day: Sweet Thang- Shuggie Otis

Religious Figure of the Day: Perun

Medium: Masking tape, black tea, graphite on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 7 (Paths not taken)

2009-08-13T14:30:00.005+01:00

I’ve been meditating on things planned but never culminated. In particular, I have been looking at the forks in my life where I have chosen one tine over another and wondering how life would be different if I had taken the planned route rather than the new opportunity. I don’t have any regrets, but I am curious about whom that other person could have been. A “for instance” is necessary - I’ll choose a good one. Near the middle of my first semester in art college I made a decision to finish that year and then take a year off to travel to Africa as a freelance photographer working in conflict zones and refuge camps around Liberia and Sierra Leone. But, a certain relationship (my wife) started to emerge and by February I had scrapped the plan. I often wonder who would have emerged from Africa, or if he’d emerge.

Eric in a Word: baragouin

Book of the Day: Labyrinths with Path of Thunder - Christopher Okigbo
Song of the Day: Buzzards of Green Hill - Les Claypool's Flying Frog Brigade
Religious Figure of the Day: Kinich Ahau
Medium: Hibiscus infusion, black tea, blue ink, black ink on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

Sketchbook Project - 6

2009-08-10T20:39:00.005+01:00

The black box was rocking along the dusty rutted road, the sun bearing harsh upon the undulating surface of the land - rises covered in razor grass and topped by clumps of twisted bush, with their branches huddled against the sky as if cringing from a lash. The landscape was divided in two by the crushed shell streak of a road stretching in long loops, a river of snow crawling out of the scrub on its way to the sea. Humidity pressed down on the horses and the driver flattening time into a sweltered present, past and future to hard to cut from the thick fabric of atmosphere. Even the flies were grounded under the unusual weight of the cobalt oven. I listened, but no sounds could reach beyond the crunch of the hooves and wheels, except the chitinous vibration of cicadas. In silence born unto this present I came.

Eric in a Word: idolum

Book of the Day: Memories of My Melancholy Whores- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Song of the Day: L'oiseau de bois- Anouar Brahem

Religious Figure of the Day: Asgaya Gigagei

Medium: blue ink, white out, graphite on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 5

2009-08-05T14:31:00.001+01:00

Struggling a bit lately with my sketchbook. I just don’t have the drive right now. It’s not a lack of ideas or subjects; in fact my mind is full of visions and concepts, my eye noticing beauty and balance in the everyday. But moving from internal to external has not been a step I’ve been able to take. The glut of ideas and observations, I think, are the cause for this block. Everything is vibrant and interesting; everything has been equalized in its vivacity. I find it hard to actualize without differentiation. In a reversal of my norm, it is easier to continue, and even finish, larger pieces than to capture something in a 30 second sketch. And the sketches I’ve managed to capture have been crap whereas every step I’ve made on more long-term work has been right even when it felt wrong. Thus is the flow of creation.

Eric in a Word: radiogenic
Book of the Day: Art Fundamentals: Theory and Practice
Song of the Day: Walk on Water - Otis Taylor
Religious Figure of the Day: Heitsi-eibib
Medium: permanent black ink, rooibos tea, green tea on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 4

2009-07-27T13:12:00.004+01:00

Under torpid semi-sun profound drafts of humidity reach forth and morning echoes are stilled underneath a quilt of birdsong. I stumble in thoughts clouded by blurred perception as heavy-handed words are dropping like lead from The Shot Tower, sizzling to their destination where they cool in the medium below. It seems the impossible, yet I am reminded, by a refrain, of tactility, of solidity, of necessity: “Everything gonna be alright, yeah everything’s gonna be alright, everything’s gonna be alright”. The solidity of earth on my soles, the pressure of air on my skin consolidate the wisps dispersing in the fog. Grounded, I long for the sun and reach for lightening. I grope. I proceed. I fly a kite full of keys to spark my knuckles to action. Shuffled off, the gossamer ropes of sleep retreat and I begin again, the same as before, in my difference, from a day ago.

Eric in a Word: natable

Book of the Day: The Secret Life of Salvador Dali- Salvador Dali

Song of the Day: Big Man- Threatmantics
Religious Figure of the Day: Kydoimus
Medium: black ink, black tea, and white out on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 3 (Duns Scotus)

2009-07-20T15:46:00.005+01:00

I have been contemplating Duns Scotus a bit lately. His Platonistic metaphysical universe is populated by objects made up of individual characteristics dependent on sensory and intellectually apprehendable universalities. In his concept the senses perceive a reality of universals. In other words, any sensed object is not really an individual object as “individual”; instead it is a reality common to all sensible objects of one type (i.e. the sweetness of all sweet things). So, there is no need for an abstractive process of the intellect to move from individual characteristics to constructed universals (i.e. a peach is perceived as that particular individual peach and must be rendered universal as a “sweet thing” in order to be known). When perceiving an object we are thus sensing and recognizing the universals (“sweet thing”, “round thing”, etc.) that combine to create an individual object rather than universalizing individual characteristics to create a category.

Eric in a Word: ingravescent

Book of the Day: Ahab's Wife: Or, The Star-gazer: A Novel - Sena Jeter Naslund
Song of the Day: Song for Jeffrey - Jethro Tull

(crazy prophet style on the Rolling Stones: Rock'n'Roll Circus)

Religious Figure of the Day: Mercury

Medium: graphite, black ink, hibiscus tea, masking tape, and white out on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 2

2009-07-13T14:20:00.003+01:00

My questions of religion are not about belief, but worship. My issues are of form, not function or substance. As we grow, we are taught the right and wrong form of worship and we are brought into conformity with beliefs established- it is spoon fed. Are those of us who are not in a position of religious power unable to cut and chew our own food without dogmatic guidelines and childhood hypnosis? Too often we lose the underlying power of religious experience in the trappings of control and become automatons of worship. Religions rarely ask their participants to explore truth outside of proscribed pathways. Is it the fear of false truths? Is it the fear of alternative truths being found? Is it a fear of diluted truth and the dissipation of the community as truths multiply? Or is it the fear of those in power losing their basis for power?

Eric in a Word: uloid

Book of the Day: Einstein's clocks, Poincaré's maps - Peter Galison

Song of the Day: Black Tambourine- Beck

Religious Figure of the Day: Ptah
Medium: white out, tea, graphite, and ink on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The Sketchbook Project - 1

2009-07-09T14:02:00.004+01:00

I have become part of a larger artists’ project, Art House Co-op’s The Sketchbook Project: Library. I received my sketchbook yesterday with the guiding phrase. “Outside of myself” printed in small letters atop a barcode in back. I have decided to incorporate this moniker with my meditation exercises and shift their focus from within to without, recording the outcomes both here and there. This is my first entry:

If today were a man, he would be tall and slim with honey colored hair. Studious eyes would peer from under well maintained eyebrows. He would stand with the slightest of stoops, wear clothes clean but with the slightest rumpling. A smell of lightest lime would accompany his passing and the careful, yet casual, gesturing of his hands as he spoke. Memory of him would fade quick, as sister night rolled in, leaving only the impression of harmless awkwardness in their place

Eric in a Word: hagioscope
Book of the Day: The Doom that Came to Sarnath - H.P. Lovecraft
Song of the Day: Gimme Dat Harp Boy - Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band

Religious Figure of the Day: Tlazolteotl

Medium: graphite, white out, and ink on 8.25" x 5" sketchbook page

The mechanism

2009-06-18T20:12:00.007+01:00

I was asked about the rules I set for my daily meditations, the genesis of this blog, by someone wanting to start one of their own.

The sketch: Fifteen minutes to use the materials on hand in my immediate vicinity; only that in arms length is usable. One sketch is allowed, what I start, I finish - for better or worse.

The text: Fifteen minutes to capture what is on my mind, but only fifteen minutes are allowed to type it up and make edits. I recently added a 150 word stricture, no more; no less. Once it’s done, it’s done and that text is linked to the sketch from that day. Both fiction and nonfiction allowed.

The connection: The sketch and the text ideally inform each other but are not necessarily directly related. Sometimes it’s illustrative, sometimes symbolic, and sometimes the connection so obscure as to boggle the mind.

Eric in a Word: corvine

Book of the Day: American Heroes - Edmund S. Morgan

Song of the Day: Moanin' - Charles Mingus

Religious Figure of the Day: Coronis
Medium: computer

The unicorn of indecision

2009-06-10T14:14:00.002+01:00

It had become a struggle. Like mounting mountains in tea box tennis shoes. There weren’t as many obstacles as paralyzing arrays of opportunities falling about my head. I felt desiccated by decision so I drank four cans of inspiration and dashed away on the unicorn of indecision. My body left behind as I rose aloft. The world below bisected by a spiral golden horn I could see past and decipher the kernels from the nuts. The nuts dense, the kernels lights. One rich, imbued with a meaty flesh; the other golden and delicate readyto burst with potential. And I scream, “You fucking unicorn you just made things worse! Damn horny beast, no wonder you can only get virgins, they’re the only ones gullible enough to fall for this crap. Put me back in my body. Asshole.” In my body once again I choose the black ones, they go with everything.

Eric in a Word: ultrafidian

Book of the Day: Chagall: A Biography - Jackie Wullschläger
Song of the Day: I like Birds... - The Eels
Religious Figure of the Day: Haoma

Medium: ink, tea, and white out on irish breakfast tea box top

A change is in the air.

2009-06-05T17:22:00.011+01:00

I have decided to change this blog going forward a bit. It had begun to feel stale and I had developed a strong ambivalence about it lately. So for a while at least I will no longer feature extended entries on my internal ramblings and external experiences, but rather limit and expand the written portion. From this point on all of my writings will be exactly 150 words, but the content will expand to include fiction as well as nonfiction. I also hope to create a more thematic flow throughout. I encourage anyone reading to comment on the quality of the writing and take occasional guesses at what's fiction and what's not and enjoy the theme. So below is my first entry in the new format (this explanatory text doesn't count):

It was just after two when the goats appeared, emerging from the night fog like four-legged furred devils come to chew my soul. If I had been cruising at more than a walk there would have been a road of bones and skulls to chew. As it was the apparition rattled me disproportionately as their eyes reflected the light and I noticed the horizontal slits narrow in the harsh glare. They stopped, I stopped and we observed the time spent stretched like a reconstructed face - recognizable but alien. What brought us here, together? The ironic hand of higher powers flooding the mundane with mystery? Or merely a chance encounter with Dionysian livestock returning from a midnight bender? I don’t know, but the goats handled it better than me. Five seconds of eternity and they continued into the field disappearing. I restarted and continued- pale, shaky, changed, holier than before.

Eric in a Word: incanous
Book of the Day: The Making of a Philosopher- Colin McGinn

Song of the Day: Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats

Religious Figure of the Day: Juno Caprotina
Medium: ink on irish breakfast tea box top

Friends was a lame show and set unfair expectations

2009-06-03T12:46:00.006+01:00

Someone I considered a friend died last week and I had few friends to begin with. In order to ease my way through the emotional turmoil I have been reflecting on the nature of friendship and what a friend is to me. I have a hard time making friends nowadays, yet I make friendly acquaintances much easier than ever. It is bridging the gap from one to the other with which I have difficulty. I have thought a lot about why, but have no specific answer, but rather a host of answers, many of which smack of self-fulfilling pity. And yet, I find myself continually struggling to overcome these barriers despite realizing how shallow they are. I guess that's the reason I am writing this down and posting it to the world (or at least the few people who read the blog), perhaps put it other there publicly will help me find a way around them.

My definition of “friend” may be too narrow- I consider someone a friend when I feel comfortable enough with them to have both deep meaningful conversations as well as the shallow trading of barbs. When I feel I can trust them to accept me as me. When there is a resonance between us that allows some things to go unsaid, some things to never be said and some things that should never be said to be said without fear of a friendship ending.

I am a very private person – This blog aside, I don’t generally offer personal opinions or information about myself. If asked I will answer any question honestly and often in too much detail, but offering is something I always hesitate to do. I probably expect too much effort.

I have a very diverse set of interests – This is great when making acquaintances and meeting people, but when developing deeper relationships it often becomes a barrier for me. My problem is not the diversity so much as my natural penchant for making obscure and strange connections between extremely diverse things. It all feeds into a personal perception that people don’t understand me or just think I am odd. So I am left with a feeling that I am just a joke to those I want to know better.

I am completely awkward about initiating “hanging out” - I am sure this has its root in deeper self-esteem issues (see above answer). My first assumption is that people have better things to do than grab a beer with me or just hang out.

Time – I don’t have a lot of it and neither does anyone else. I guess this means I’ve “grown up”, oh bother. Just grabbing a beer more often than not involves dueling PDAs and at least one reschedule. It is hard to make friends when you always feel under the gun. And having both parties prioritize getting together seems much rarer in this urban setting despite the greater variety of activities to partake of.

Eric in a Word: absquatulate

Book of the Day: Regarding the Pain of Others- Susan Sontag
Song of the Day: Blackbirds - Erin Mckeown
Religious Figure of the Day: Saint Moses the Black
Medium: graphite, ink and white out on manilla envelope

Mujō

2009-05-22T13:38:00.005+01:00

Over the last few days in my contemplations I have revisited one of my pet philosophical/religious concepts, mujō meaning “transience” or “mutability”. In looking at my surroundings I find almost everybody obsessed with permanence. They are searching for something permanent, striving to make something permanent, or assuming that things are permanent. All in the face of insanely rapid change that marks our culture in American. We are constantly looking for something better while simultaneously believing in or assuming the permanence of things that are not within our current focus.

In my opinion this is best exemplified in how we treat ourselves. We are in constantly striving to maintain a youthful physical appearance and deny our ages to paraphrase the commercials. We deny our mortality and tend to shove our elderly relatives into assisted living homes where they are someone else’s problem and we don’t have to be reminded of our mortality. In fact, we have a tendency to recreate many of the symptoms of old age as diseases or conditions and then try to cure them or provide means to hide them from others. We strive to maintain a permanent self-image of who we were as an 18 – 30 year old and we attempt to project that to others. On an even deeper level, we assume a permanent self. We are who we are. The core of who we are was developed at a young age and all experiences merely add to that core being.

On the other hand, we are a culture of redemption. We love those who have fallen but repented and have become better people for it. Visiting a psychologist often involves determining why you act in certain way, whether it is due to past experiences, false assumptions, or combination and then “reprogram” ourselves to overcome those behaviors. As the so-called “baby boomer” generation has aged we also see the older portion of our population reinventing themselves, usually upon retirement. Former doctors become poets; sedentary accountants become world travelers, etc. Yet still we approach each of these changes as permanent.

I lost my point some time ago, but if I were to revision it now, I would say we place too much emphasis on permanence. We try so hard to lock things in place that we become static in our struggle. I don’t mean just “go with the flow”, nor am I advocating for my own personal belief that “individuals” are more a string of constantly changing interdependent factors than a permanent self. What I am saying is that when you approach life realize that it is by its very nature impermanent and fleeting. Change is in essence neither good nor bad, it just is.

Eric in a Word: mansuetude
Book of the Day: Under the Banner of Heaven - Jon Krakauer

Song of the Day: American Face Dust- Black Moth Super Rainbow

Religious Figure of the Day: Lauma

Medium: graphite on business card

Elizabeth Gilbert, Tom Waits, and the daemon

2009-05-20T13:44:00.005+01:00

I was watching Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED talk “A new way to think about creativity” via the New Art blog early this morning and I was fascinated by her resurrection of the concept of creative inspiration coming at least partly from an external source. In particular the story she told about Tom Waits was entertaining and enlightening. The gist of the story is that Tom Waits was driving when he was inspired by a snippet of music that started in his head. This triggered stress and angst over the possibility of losing the inspiration since he couldn’t stop and write it down. In response, he looked to the sky and exclaimed something like, “Hey, can’t you see I’m driving here. Can’t you wait for a more appropriate time? If not, just give it to someone else and stop torturing me.”

The funny and enlightening thing is that this is exactly type of situation I’m usually in when I get inspired. More often than not I lose it before I can get to where it can be captured. Studio time is often spent trying to remember and recapture the fleeting moments. It is a frustrating and often futile effort. However, just occasionally, the daemon appears and I wrestle the devil out of me and capture it in my materials (I think my song of the day captures the feel of it quite well). It is not an easy flowing for me. It is an intense, focused, and physical expulsion. It’s like fighting to catch that itch in the middle of your back. Hard to reach but it is damn satisfying when you finally scratch it.

Eric in a Word: skirr
Book of the Day: Aesthetics and Ethics - Jerrold Levinson

Song of the Day: Keep the Devil Down - North Mississippi Allstars
Religious Figure of the Day: Garmr
Medium: graphite, masking tape, white out and ink on paper

An explanation, or what seminal means to me

2009-05-12T19:39:00.007+01:00

At the end of my last entry I used the phrase “How much harder is it to create that one seminal piece of work, that one incredible song, that one thing that changes the way people view the world?” Well, someone called me on it and asked what I meant by seminal? Was I striving to create a masterpiece? Something that would change the course of art history? Or did I mean something more personal and less grandiose?

I would be lying to say I wasn’t hoping for the grandiose, world altering work, but that has to start with the personal. When I enter the studio all thoughts of the larger world cease, it’s just me and my medium of choice. When I work to please an external audience it always ends in failure. So when I pick up my instruments of creation I attempt to operate solely out of my vision and my experience for me and me alone.

So, where do I land on the “seminal” question? I would say I am always striving for something personal and grandiose. I want every creation to mark a break from my past, it should a self-defining piece that leads me into new territory, something to jump off from and break from as I move on to another work. I am not always successful, in fact I am rarely successful, but that is part of it. I get more out of the process than the finished product. It’s the problems and puzzles of the work that keep me engaged, not an ability to churn out polished, refined work that everyone loves.

Eric in a Word: hapaxanthous

Book of the Day: Against Interpretation- Susan Sontag
Song of the Day: Sexual Healing- The Hot 8 Brass Band
Religious Figure of the Day:Bedawang Nala

Medium: graphite, green tea, black tea, and rooibos on card stock

Art is hard

2009-05-11T20:19:00.003+01:00

I am stuck, bogged down, blocked; you name it, I’m in it. I can’t seem to complete anything beyond a sketch. It’s not that I don’t have ideas; it’s more that once I begin to implement the intent slips away and degrades. I’ve painted over, destroyed, or hidden more than 90% of my work the last few years. It’s as if I’ve lost my voice and can’t find it. I don’t bring this up for pity or as an attempt to jumpstart my output. It is part of the creative process and that's what I want to talk about.

Creators- artists, musicians, inventors, etc.- don’t just sit back, pull something out of the air, and slap something successful together. We have to work at it. Every spark of insight or intuition has a foundation in experience and hard work. You can’t recognize a good idea unless you have a library full of bad ones to compare it to. It can take years of work, stops and starts, frustration and even abandonment to find your voice and find your work. Since I’m on a de Kooning kick lately, I’ll use him as an example. After the completion of his master painting Excavation (1950) de Kooning worked and reworked, erased and planned, struggled and railed against, abandoned and restarted his next piece, Woman I, for almost three years before he was able to complete it. That’s three years on basically one painting. The Beatles went from an average, some would even say crappy, little garage band from Liverpool to, well, The Beatles by playing thousands upon thousands of hours in Hamburg, Germany and anywhere else that would give them a stage.

My point? Creativity and art are fucking work and it’s not always fun. To throw in a sports metaphor, if you get a hit in baseball one out of every three at bats you can be a Hall of Famer. How much harder is it to create that one seminal piece of work, that one incredible song, that one thing that changes the way people view the world? I don’t know, but I guess I’ll keep picking up my brushes, sharpening my chisels, and sketching until I find out.

Eric in a Word: cachinnation

Book of the Day: Darwin's Worms- Adam Phillips
Song of the Day: They Made Frogs Smoke 'Til They Exploded- Múm

Religious Figure of the Day: Þjazi
Medium: graphite and black tea on qaud-ruled notebook paper

Aesthetics and Ethics

2009-05-04T19:38:00.008+01:00

May 6

May 7

A driving force in my artistic and intellectual development has been the intersection of aesthetics and ethics. These are two aspects of so-called “value theory” that have been intimately linked philosophically for centuries, although in my experience the past few decades have been dominated by writings on either ethics or aesthetics with only lip service paid to the connection between the two. As an artist I am particularly interested in the common assumptions and issues in both ethics an aesthetics as well as ethical issues in art making and aesthetics. I am constantly asking myself and examining the answers to questions around these areas:

Is there objectivity in ethics and art? If so, what form does it take? If so, how do you reconcile the apparent differences in ethics, art styles, and forms? Are there moral and aesthetics truths? What is the relationship between aesthetic value and value in general? Is aesthetic value a part of a larger value paradigm or a more fundamental anchor value? Can or should art have moral value? If so, how is it related to the assessment of art? Can you have morally abhorrent art that is at the same time aesthetically excellent? Are there limits to what can or should be appreciated aesthetically? Are there limits on what can or should be approached or attempted artistically? Are there moral obligations for artists? Are there moral obligations for viewers of art? If so, how are they related?

I don’t at present have any hard and fast answers to any of these questions. In fact, I think asking the questions are probably more important than answering them. Where I fall in my answers at any given time determines my artistic and moral experiences in that given moment. To blatantly steal from Emerson, I express my art and ethical standing in actions as hard as cannonballs even though they contradict everything I expressed the moment before.

Eric in a Word: oblatrate
Book of the Day: The Spartans - Paul Cartledge

Song of the Day: Odin's Raven Magic - Sigur Ros and Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson
Religious Figure of the Day: Shabbetai Tzevi

Medium:

graphite and green tea on qaud-ruled notebook paper (May 6)

charcoal pencil, graphite, and coffee on business card (May 7)

de Kooning and me

2009-04-28T15:53:00.004+01:00

It has been a while since I last posted, obviously. Over the intervening time I’ve been engaged in some self-reflection- no surprise here, either. Anyway, I’ve been reading a book on de Kooning that has surprised me in a good way. I was expecting to read this book at a steady clip, like I read most nonfiction books. However, as I transitioned into the chapters on de Kooning’s life in New York during the 1930’s I began to slow down. I found his efforts to develop his style, his love of ambiguity, and his attempts to meld his more traditional training with a need to rebel against it and thirst for modernism eerily resonant with the internal push and pull of my own artistic ambitions. But most of all, I was struck by his struggle with how he defined himself.

He began his art career as a commercial artist, a craftsman-artist similar in spirit to the Bauhaus, which he defined as very distinct from a fine artist. He seems to have defined himself as a first a commercial artist, doing decorative painting, etc. to make a living and then following his desire to paint in a modernist style on the side, almost as a hobby. It wasn’t until he met and befriended Arshile Gorky that he really began to believe in his ability to be a fine arts painter. And it wasn’t until the opportunity to work under the Federal Art Project (FAP) that he took the final step and attempted to devote himself to fine art painting full time. An interesting note, he was actually making pretty decent money working on contract as a decorative artist during the early years of the Depression and gave that job up in order to qualify for the FAP in the later Depression despite being offered twice his current salary to stay.

I have been struggling with a similar self-definition dilemma. Since I became serious about art – 18 years ago – I have always defined myself as something else first and artist second. That initial/primary label has changed continually over the years, but artist has always remained secondary. I have as of yet not met my own Gorky nor have I looked for or stumbled across an FAP-like opportunity. I have a feeling my reticence to define myself as an artist has similar foundation as de Kooning- a mix of social signals that define “artist” as a devalued thing and my lack of confidence in my own skills. I wonder if I can ever overcome this psychological block. All I know is that until I do I am limiting my ability to make art and the power of the art I create. I will continue to wander from style to style, subject to subject, and probably place to place always feeling a bit disjointed and awkward in my own skin.

Eric in a Word: vagile

Book of the Day: Salt - Mark Kurlansky

Song of the Day: Ghost of a Shark - Tom McRae

Religious Figure of the Day: Erecura

Medium: black tea & ink on business card (study after Daumier)

RIP Harry Kalas

2009-04-14T14:54:00.004+01:00

Yesterday another icon from my childhood passed away. The great Harry Kalas, the golden-throated voice of the Phillies. He and Richie Ashburn ushered me through untold years of Phillies baseball, frustration and incredible memories. Harry was the voice that brought Michael Jack Schmidt home and his delivery made Mickey Morandini a household name in the Philly region. He was the sound of baseball for me every bit as much the crack of the bat and thwock of a leather glove. I always imagined him as the imaginary narrator of my successes and the voice of my baseball dreams- “There it is! Outta here! Homerun Eric Giles!” Baseball just won't be the same without him.

Harry, you will be missed.

Harry Kalas (1936 -2009)

Eric in a Word: physiurgic

Book of the Day: Theory of the Earth - James Hutton

Song of the Day: Yellow Fever - Fela Kuti

Religious Figure of the Day: Eshmun

Medium: Graphite on card stock

Civilization writ large

2009-04-08T14:16:00.005+01:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about human history on the macro scale lately. Usually I tend towards a holistic contextualized view of history (i.e. every event and person is the product of and acts within the context of their time), but occasionally I like to mentally step outside of time and take a broader view. The danger in this approach is a tendency to see patterns where there are none or create hypothetical rules where none apply. That being said, there is something that resonates throughout human history for me. It is the constant push and pull between individual wants and collective cohesion.

At some point in our collective past, maybe at the dawn of what we consider “human”, maybe before, maybe after it became apparent that the species had a better chance of survival if it worked together rather than individually. In order for this to occur individual wants and desires had to be redirected or subsumed by rules both conscious and unconscious. I would argue that the history of human civilizations is really the history of this struggle. Each society/ civilization throughout history has had its own way of dealing with it, built on the past, adapted to the present situation, emphasizing one thing over another, etc… in continuous and ever changing movement.

In my opinion the two main “things” that humanity has tried to control or direct throughout history are violence and sexual desire – in other words the means of survival and reproduction. The ironic thing is that we are in actuality using a social unit as a tool to redirect and channel the means of survival and reproduction in order to ensure our survival and ability to reproduce. Marriage, war, money, industry, art, etc…are all tools in a society’s toolbox with the overarching goal of preserving our ability to survive and reproduce through channeling our tendencies to use socially destructive means to achieve these self-same goals. In order to do away with one of these tools, war for instance, we would need to have another to replace it that would serve the same purpose with the same efficacy or endanger our civilization/ civilization writ large.

Eric in a Word: clepe
Book of the Day: The Spell of the Sensuous - David Abram
Song of the Day: Cold Water - Tom Waits
Religious Figure of the Day: Saa
Medium: Rooibos,ink, white out, and graphite on business card

My presence of mind is absent

2009-04-01T13:11:00.004+01:00

I was not going to post this initially. It struck me as simultaneously banal and too personal. But I realized that in order to be honest to my personal intentions with this blog, to increase my ability to communicate clearly and openly. One of the reasons I felt it necessary to post it was the topic, how I experience the world. It’s on a topic that’s difficult for me to adequately communicate, mainly because of the inherent bias of the English language towards the visual.

I am feeling really, physically uncomfortable today, as if I am not me. It’s that feeling most people would describe as “not comfortable in my own body”. For me, at least, it’s not quite like this. I am unusually aware, consciously at least, of my physical reactions to input from my visual, auditory, and olfactory senses. Almost as if all my senses are routed through the part of my brain that analyzes my sense of touch. For example, when I see something visually beautiful, like the sun setting behind the Rockies, I simultaneous see the scene and feel the raising of gooseflesh, my hair prickling, various muscles relaxing and tightening in response. The scene physically hits me. And it’s like this with 90% of my daily experiences, not just the particularly stunning ones. Now, in my understanding, most people have similar reactions, it just registers on a sub-conscious level except under special circumstances.

On days like this, I am at best discombobulated. I can’t fully rely on my physical reaction to give me an accurate representation of what’s happening and have to do more conscious analysis of what’s going on. It slows my reaction time and reduces my mental capacity. Not only that, it just feels weird. The world is a bit alien and my interaction is just a hair out of sync. I end up feeling alienated and disconnected. So, if you run into me today, do not be disturbed by the palpable aura of absent mindedness I’m sure surrounds me.

Eric in a Word: desiderate
Book of the Day: Candide- Voltaire
Song of the Day: Longest Days- John Mellencamp
Religious Figure of the Day: Kumari Devi
Medium: Rooibos and graphite on business card

Warhol

2009-03-27T14:14:00.006Z

Last Friday I was asked by a colleague at work my feelings on Andy Warhol. I am not a big fan and said so. But when asked to elaborate I danced around ideas about his impact on art and even the personal impression he made on me during interviews. Something about the conversation struck me as not complete and over the weekend I poked and prodded it. I really engaged in Warhol, re-watched a couple of documentaries (Andy Warhol’s Factory People and Andy Warhol: The Complete Picture), really took a look at the length and breadth of his artwork online, and thought about the context in which he was making art. It was a decidedly aggravating process. I just don’t like him, but now I have a better idea why.

It seems, at least to me, that visual art (at least European-American visual art) up to Warhol and the “pop artists” included something more than the mere reflection of our everyday existence. Whether it was the medieval Pre-Raphaelites critique of mechanized society and longing for a reconnection with the natural world, the Impressionists democratization of light, space and social status, or the soul searching existentialism of the Abstract Expressionists, artists were striving to change, examine, and understand the world around them. Art was a striving for something and a catalyst of change. Warhol’s art is not that.

Warhol’s art was a reflection of popular culture and is now a reflected nostalgia for a particular period in time. It was not striving for deeper understanding. It cruises along the surface of American culture from the 60’s through the 80’s. He held up popular images primarily generated out of the consumerist attitudes that have dominated American life since World War II. The Campbell’s soup can, Marylyn Monroe, Elvis, Mickey Mouse were all consumer products that he repurposed. But to what end?

Was he criticizing popular culture? There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of it, he painted/ printed what he liked.

Was he glorifying it? Perhaps, in some cases definitely.

Was he using it to further his own fame? Maybe not in the beginning, but definitely as he went forward.

The fact is, he refused to tell us anything about his purpose, hiding behind an artistic pretension while breaking down the barriers between high art and art of the everyday. In the process he fully submerged art in consumerism. And his ability to make it look cool to do so has made it tough to make art that strives for something more and have it taken seriously. And this is what I don’t like about Warhol, I feel like he has undermined the “moral” power of art and replaced it with the power of the free market. In doing so he has contributed to a shift in the primary art question from “what does it mean” to “how much is it worth”.

Eric in a Word: effodient
Book of the Day: The Philosophy of History - Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
Song of the Day: Music is Ruling My World - Kutiman feat. Funk'N'stein and Karolina

Religious Figure of the Day: Qetesh
Sketch medium: graphite over tea spill on graph paper (approx. 3.5" x 4.75")

Illusion and the appearance of things

2009-03-24T15:33:00.006Z

I’m just going to jump into my thoughts today before I lose the clarity in which they have struck me, although I must admit I do not know where they are going:

Existence can be defined as a being in a certain state, the existence of multiple beings is another aspect of this same state. Also, the nonexistence of a being(s) is an aspect of this certain state. The coming into existence of a being is merely the shifting from one aspect to another. While this makes sense to me theoretically, how “real” is this certain state? What are the implications of this concept?

To probe the latter question first, it suggests the presence of a wholeness or oneness radically different than our observed “reality” of differentiation. In other words, my culture (European-American) views “reality” as constituted of a myriad distinct elements. The statements relegate beings to a more minor role in existence. The core of reality is the state which is fundamentally singular with aspects dependent upon angle from which it is interpreted.
The problem with expressing this idea, is that English (and Indo- European languages in general) are by nature multitudinous. This is not surprising as language both reflects and informs how we experience “reality”. Yet the confines of this language structure, both in its organizing and explanatory principles, forces discussions of holistic “reality” into a discussion of a “model of reality” rather than a discussion of “reality”.

On the other hand, it has become increasingly clear over the last 100 yrs that our senses do not necessarily reveal the entirety of “reality” – just pick up a book on quantum physics. To further touch on quantum physics, at least briefly, let’s consider something easily observable, like a mountain, from a multitudinous stance. At first glance, a mountain appears to be an object (being) “full” in and of itself. Yet as we look closer the mountain is actually a conglomeration of countless diverse parts- stones, trees, roots, pebbles, dust, water, etc. Take a single stone from that mountain, it also appears “full” in and of itself, yet when viewed closely it is mad of smaller particles (atoms), and when they are viewed closely they are mostly vacuum, merely the space between electrons, protons, etc. within quantum physics there is a concept called “nonseparability” that in essence suggests that the all of these observable “objects” are not distinct objects at all, but rather exist only in as much that they are entangled with the state of the whole Universe.

But why, if everything is in essence entangled in a singular state, do we experience things multitudinously? My instinct, and I think there may even be a theory that lays this out in detail, is that it is so far beyond our abilities to perceive it in its full complexity. It is a limitation of our senses and mental capabilities. In other words, how we experience “reality” is too dependent upon our physical limitations for us to perceive anything beyond. Even the tools we make to expand our limitations must translate “reality” back into the confines of our limitations. I would also posit that if we did experience something outside our limitations, we would not know how to communicate it with any clarity to ourselves, and certainly not others. We would be forced to make the experience fit within our built in limitations and thus negate all that did not fit within those confines.

I would be remiss if I didn't at least mention the religious studies point of view. Buddhists and various other mystics throughout history have been tackling this conundrum for years, within the confines of their belief systems, of course. They have their own methods of communicating and defining the disparity and techniques to break free from physical limitations and directly experience "wholeness" and/or "nothingness".

My final thought, why are we so focused on "breaking through" to ultimate "reality"? Why not revel in the inherent mystery of reality instead?

Eric in a Word: sockdolager

Book of the Day: Soul Made Flesh - Carl Zimmer

Song of the Day: I'm Finding It Harder to Be a Gentleman - The White Stripes

Religious Figure of the Day: Sekhmet

Sketch medium: graphite, rooibos, white out, and blue marker on card stock

You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists

2009-03-20T13:15:00.004Z

Over the last couple of days I have had an interesting email correspondence with a good friend of mine that touched on a topic that has been on my mind a lot lately- the apathetic approach of students (in a college setting) to their work. He teaches religious studies at a research intensive school and has come to believe that classes in religion at the school are “service” courses, meaning they serve as an elective, but have little or no bearing on their actual education. I have gotten a very similar vibe regarding my Drawing class, at least for about half the class.

I don’t mean to badmouth my students or his, the way our culture (both academically and beyond) is set up their response and approach is to be expected. You are encouraged to specialize and reserve all of your energy and time for that specialty. Courses outside that particular area have become almost vestigial. They are remnants of the archaic ideal of a “well-rounded individual”, an ideal that conflicts with the current role of “specialized individual” we are encouraged to play.

I have never fit into that role. My interests are too diverse and frankly so are my talents. In fact, I would go so far as to say that my strongest natural talent is to see and understand connections and patterns in disparate areas. In other words, if I had a super power it would be consilience.

What does this have to do with our students? Well, to quote my friend, regarding the degradation of written assignments, the problem

rests with a pedagogy that requires students to write in a style or genre (the argumentative essay) to which they are mostly 'tone' deaf and, moreover, will likely never reproduce outside of the university essay. I think this kinda makes the task rote for many and results in a lot of contrived or forced writing.

It is the same with our courses. Our particular fields, the academic study of religion and art, are probably as divergent for them as possible. Religious studies is by nature a practice in consilience and art-making tends to require using a different part of the brain than most other disciplines. They are not in essence straight forward, but instead require the repetition of two seemingly opposing steps – the expansion of focus followed by laser-like focus upon a singular idea, then the expansion of focus to look for other like patterns, then the bringing into sharp focus again, then the expansion….In other words, they expect a fastball and are thrown a curveball. It’s no wonder most students swing and miss.

Eric in a Word: favonian

Book of the Day: Adams vs. Jefferson - John Ferling

Song of the Day: Rock Box - Run D.M.C.

Religious Figure of the Day: Saint Roch

Sketch medium: graphite, ink, and white-out on card stock

Feeling a bit idealistic

2009-03-19T15:22:00.004Z

I think a lot about what art can mean, what art should mean to those who create it and those who participate in it, and what art is to the culture it is made in. I constantly find myself returning to ideas I first encountered when reading John Ruskin’s works as a 20 year old. Through my eyes, Ruskin believes art (for creator and viewer) should be an event. It should lead you to a place outside of the mundane, profane world in which we live and to a place both sacred and more real. For Ruskin, and myself, art have a full and organic relationship – art is a means of connecting to the natural world, our place in it, and through it to that which is sacred.

For Ruskin, art is a barometer of the health of culture from which it derives, the greater the power of the art to connect you with your place in the natural world and the sublime the healthier the culture. Living in England during the industrial revolution, Ruskin was appalled by the mechanization of the culture and especially the people within his society. He stagnation and decay of art in his time period as a symptom of the decay of civilization and the modern factory, with its mechanized production and division of labor, as an almost insurmountable barrier between the worker and his work, preventing a genuine relationship, destroying any spiritual element and alienating the producer from the product of his hands. The products of such a system were stillborn, lacking the vital spark of true craft, reflecting the difference between a craftsman and machine. Workers had devolved from free craftsman to slaves of a mechanized society, denied individuality and severed from their full potential to create.

Outside of the implicit criticism of American society, what does this mean to me as an artist? I think artists have an obligation to create living art. Something that transports the participant/viewer from the insanity of our hyper-mechanized reality to a place where we can reconnect. Art should not be the mechanized churning of something that will sell. It should not be created as an act to shock, in the pursuit of something new for newness sake, or for the selfish promotion of ones career.

Art should create a resonance between its participant/viewers and the world they live in, the world they strive for, and their fellow creatures. It should motivate us to be better, to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us, and to reject that which prevents these ideals.

Eric in a Word: unasinous

Book of the Day: The Ancestor's Tale - Richard Dawkins
Song of the Day: Undertaker Blues - Rosa Henderson and the Kansas City Five

Religious Figure of the Day: Juturna

Sketch medium: graphite and incidental ink on card stock stained with black tea and honey

Existential art

2009-03-12T13:27:00.006Z

Recently, i.e. today, I have once again visited a conundrum that has plagued me since the beginning of my artistic awakening- how do you represent experience in the more static forms of sculpture, painting, or drawing? My thoughts seem to travel two interrelated and similar tracks on this and both raise more questions than answers.

My first thought process:
I am trying to replicate, or at least accurately express, an experience through participating in the experience of creating which will then be interpreted through the experience of viewing the creation. This strikes me as similar to translating from one language to another so it can be read in a third. It seems that anything that may survive from the actual experience into the creation of the work is undermined by the shift into the more passive context of observation from that of participation or creation. In effect, what the observer sees relates more to their own individual past experiences than to any experience I may have been trying to capture.

The second line:
I blame this train of thought on reading freakin’ Jean-Paul Sartre and Virginia Woolf in high school - Watch what seeds you plant in fertile soil. They are both preoccupied with aesthetics, in particular when dealing with “lived” experience and the difference between imagination, creativity and perception. This thought process is based in a wider philosophical context wherein the world and our actions in it are interdependent, meaning that everything is dependent on others things in such a complex way that everything becomes subject to unseen effects and is not logically necessary- in other words, anything is possible depending… We make sense of experience in a discursive manner rather than an intuitive one, but this is a fragile way of operating as it depends upon the way we simplify and symbolize the complexity in order to function. When the natural complexity of life rears its head, or we look too hard at our symbols, our previous understanding can be cast adrift. How does this relate to my issue? Well, if we are unable to wholly experience anything, we are definitely going to experience problems expressing the fullness of an experience to someone who will not be able to fully experience our translation of the experience.

Look, I’m not sure what any of this means, but it has in the past driven me to create art that is more about creating a space where the observer/participant is encouraged to create their own “lived” experience of that space with minimal cues from me as to what that should be. This has often resulted in the bringing together of objects (made and found) and arranging them in such a way that they separate the space between them from that which is without. The participant in creating the interactions between the objects in effect creates a new work each time they shift their perception. The objects are not works alone or in a group, but only in their relationship to each other and the participant.

Maybe, today’s rumination is leading me back to this work and away from my one-off drawings, paintings, and sculptures.

Eric in a Word: lochetic
Book of the Day: Lives of the Artists - Giorgio Vasari
Song of the Day: Qué Onda Guero - Beck
Religious Figure of the Day: Teshub
Sketch medium: graphite on business card stained with black tea

To show or not to show?

2009-03-10T18:07:00.006Z

Well, my head has begun to clear as the weather has started making the turn towards spring these past few days. With that, I have come to a greater clarity about my hesitation to enter the "gallery game". I want to state here, at the beginning, that I have nothing against nor do I feel superior to artists who make a living selling their work or performing their craft. Far from it. I think an artist should be able to live and work and concentrate fully on their art work. What I have a problem with is the incessant need to place price tags on individual work, or groups of works, thereby changing a piece of art into just another commodity to buy and sell. In the end, I think this cheapens the work of the artists by forcing an easily definable box around that which is not easily definable. It obfuscates and distracts those experiencing the work from the full impact and message of the work. In a bad analogy, it is like the use of thick black borders and capital letters used to express Surgeon General’s warnings, they overpower and thus obscure the true message.

This is my sole reason for no longer selling my work or continuing to pursue shows in “for profit” galleries. Although I am sure this will come off as both condescending and naïve, I find the commodification of my work seeps into the making of my work and undermines all my efforts. It leads to passionless work and half-baked concepts watered down by an effort to please rather than an effort to express in actions as hard as cannonballs. But, I do not want to hide my work away, either. Something better than the competitive and commodified artistic pursuit inherent in the gallery process that currently dominates how most artists display their work needs to be devised. I have come up with only a couple of options to this standard system, neither of which will lead to a “career” as an artist or allow me to live by my artwork alone:

1) Show my work in nonprofit or educational galleries only, like Tower Hill School where shows are matched with a guest artist lecture to the students.

2) Spread my art through gifting.

The first option is where I am once again heading. I like the fact that I can not only share my artistic expression with others, but do so in such a way that avoids the effects of trying to fit into a trend or sell my work. It also has the added bonus of usually allowing me to use my artwork as an avenue towards teaching about art, a growing passion of mine since I began teaching at the College of Southern Maryland. This is a heady mix indeed and one that I plan on imbibing more often.

The second option is what I have been doing since I began making art. It allows me to literally give a part of myself to others in my life. Not only am I sharing my art, but I am hopefully creating closer ties with those around me. And though this smacks of rampant idealism, it is particularly powerful to me the act of using my art to connect myself to others as a primary goal rather than as secondary to setting myself apart from other artists.

Eric in a Word: satisdiction

Book of the Day: The Enchiridion by Epictetus, tr Elizabeth Carter

Song of the Day: Baharim - Balkan Beat Box

Religious Figure of the Day: Nyx

Sketch medium: graphite and glue on Stride gum pack top (3.25" x 2")

Where is my head?

2009-03-02T17:46:00.003Z

I have let this blog run fallow for almost two weeks now in the hopes that my brain would once again jump into life. That has failed to happen. I have spent the last few weeks mostly muddled and rampantly busy when not sitting jury duty, yet not a twitch of that mental acuity and spark that usually runs like a demented hamster on a wheel in my brain. It is disconcerting to say the least. I am used to fending off thoughts and observations, often four at a time, in order to focus on what I am working on. Now I am grasping in pea soup fog to function. I have struggled to even do my daily sketches, much less undertake more ambitious projects, or even crack my sketchbook otherwise. I am trying to approach this slow-down as a natural rest period brought on by February weather and the stress of life, but I am beginning to worry as I sit here staring blankly. Perhaps when the panic comes it will bring friends and I can get back to work.

Eric in a Word: kedge

Book of the Day: The Great Influenza - John M. Barry

Song of the Day: Wish I was in Heaven Sitting Down - R.L. Burnside

Religious Figure of the Day: Ereshkigal
Sketch medium: graphite on paper

I have a head

2009-02-10T13:53:00.006Z

I have been quite fuzzy headed the last few weeks & I’m having trouble focusing or remembering things. The strangest thing is that despite my struggles to function with anything even resembling my normal capacity, when my mind does wander it wanders to thoughts of analytic philosophy (mostly about the relationship between linguistic meaning, logic, and reality- think Wittgenstein & Ayers) with a heavy dose visual imagery from the conceptual artists of the 1960s who used the ideas as fodder for their work.

For instance, Bruce Nauman’s “A rose has no teeth” cast a phrase from Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations in lead and nailed to a tree in a garden. Wittgenstein uses this phrase as an example of an obviously true statement whose meaning is nonetheless obscure. Joseph Kosuth produced a series of enlargements of philosophically meaningful definitions (e.g. Art as Idea as Idea.) Kosuth, in particular, intimately connects conceptual art and analytic philosophy by arguing that conceptual artworks are analytic propositions. They express and challenge definitions of art. They are in effect and actuality tautological – they are statements of propositional logic that hold for all the truth values of their atomic propositions – they are what they are and what they say they are.

What I find interesting in the assumption of the written word and philosophical underpinnings of this particular strain of conceptual art is that both Nauman and Kosuth have in affect translated one visual medium (writing) to another visual medium (lead, photograph, etc…) I am still at a loss as to whether changing the context, from the container of philosophy to art, they are still expressing the same idea on a smaller scale? What I mean by this is that the philosophical writings of Ayers and Wittgenstein examine how we, humans, interact with “reality” writ large, whereas Nauman and Kosuth seem to be examining the idea of “art”, a potentially smaller fragment of “reality”. Or, are they expressing the same ideas in a different context, but since that context is part of the whole, they are still dealing with our relationship to reality at large? Are they using tautological works to show how art creates what the definition of art is? Or are they using art as a language to show how language creates and informs reality?

Eric in a Word: abstersive
Book of the Day:Gargantua and Pantagruel - Francois Rabelais
Song of the Day: Those Damn Blue Collar Tweekers- Primus
Religious Figure of the Day: Saint Eric of Sweden

Sketch medium: garphite on paper

Revisiting an old flame

2009-02-09T12:35:00.003Z

I revisited an old love of mine this weekend and without realizing it rekindled a flame from what I thought was only smoldering ash. I partook of the beautiful weather here on Sunday by setting up my easel and exhuming my oil paints from a decade’s long slumber.

The last time I had set eyes on my arsenal of petroleum based medium was almost ten years ago. Our long standing affair had just dissolved in repeated bouts of coughing up blood and the other hallmarks of intense exposure to turpentine fumes (apparently my studio at school was not ventilated enough for the amount of fumes that semester). So, with no better space to paint and a doctor’s suggestion I take 10-12 months away from my love, I bid adieu for what I thought would be a short hiatus in which I could explore different media.

As often happens with extended absences, someone changes and you drift apart. I went on to pursue other interests not directly related to painting living in spaces not conducive to working at the large scale I was used to and allow my relationship to wither on the vine. Or, so I thought. Yesterday, with space to paint, ventilation to spare, and a new passion for small scale work, I rediscovered my oils. And as in all requited love, it has flared up with a passion. I have spent the time since yesterday constantly thinking about painting again. Reminiscing about the good times; thinking about new projects; reveling in the feel, smell, and joy I rediscovered yesterday afternoon. And, unless I once again come to resemble a brush toting Doc Holliday, I aim to keep this relationship alive.

Eric in a Word: tenebrific
Book of the Day: A World Lit Only by Fire - William Manchester
Song of the Day: Careful what you wish for - Raine Maida
Religious Figure of the Day: Śakra
Sketch medium: graphite on bristol board

A week in a day

2009-02-02T12:52:00.010Z

Monday Tuesday

Wednesday Thursday

Friday

As I am limping through the last day of this week, exhausted and burnt, I realized I hadn't posted my daily sketches at all. So in a burst of energy, I decided to share all five today. Enjoy if you will.

Eric in a Word: resistentialism

Book of the Day: Mayflower- Nathaniel Philbrick
Song of the Day: The Four Beauties - Chinese Yueju Opera

Religious Figure of the Day: Lan Caihe

Sketch medium: Monday- graphite on greentea soaked paper

Tuesday- drawn on photoshop

Wednesday- graphite on greentea stained paper

Thursday- graphite on paper

Friday - charcoal pencil on coffee stained paper

Why post with no comments?

2009-01-30T14:59:00.005Z

I don’t have much to write today, I am exhausted and worn. I will, however, like to address a question asked of me previously: How do you continue posting when no one comments on your blog?

This is a pretty simple answer for me. I don’t maintain this blog for anyone but myself. I invite others to share it, comment on it, enjoy it, make fun of it, or whatever. But, this blog is more a record for me both tracking and keeping me in line with my daily meditations. It is merely the public part of a process designed to strengthen my own art work and my comfort level in sharing myself with others.

Opening a dialogue with others or establishing an e-reputation, things I think most bloggers are attempting, are merely by-products when or if they occur. Now don’t get me wrong, I love comments. There is a sort of validation there. But, I will continue with the blog until it is no longer useful regardless.

Eric in a Word: scheissenbedauern

Book of the Day: Citizen Soldiers- Stephen Ambrose

Song of the Day: Warm Beer, Cold Women - Tom Waits

Religious Figure of the Day: Pazuzu

Sketch medium: graphite on business card (2" x 3.5"), re-colored via Photoshop.

Cop-out post

2009-01-29T20:26:00.003Z

So I did this 25 Random Things about Me thingy on Facebook and thought it would make a passable cop-out post since I don't have anything fresh to say today to accompany my sketch.

1. I don’t actually try to be weird, quite the opposite really. You should hear/read some of the things I filter out.

2. I have never owned a monkey, a diaper, or a monkey in a diaper.

3. I don’t like potato chips, in general.

4. I am actually a smidge under 6’2”

5. I have actually performed the Heimlich on a chipmunk.

6. I have long held the belief that I would probably taste good blackened and seared with a nice Merlot- then again, what doesn’t?

7. I have only had two nicknames that stuck for any period of time: tripod and sleeper.

8. Every night small animals sit on me.

9. I often wear pants.

10. I have a hard time remembering names, even my own.

11. I am a world-class loomer, but I struggle with hovering and loitering.

12. I have actually drawn my way out of a paper bag- it’s all about pencil pressure.

13. I have never passed a polygraph by telling the truth.

14. I really like chapulines tacos.

15. I don’t believe in putting my friends in some sort of hierarchy.

16. The sense of humor I rarely share is pitch black and would make the devil flinch.

17. I tend to do things I shouldn’t be able to do and forget to do things I need to do.

18. This is not my first rodeo.

19. I love vulcanology.

20. I don’t like people in general only in specific.

21. I have two Master’s degrees – Religious Studies and International Policy.

22. I specialized in death rituals and then transitional justice issues related to genocide for my Master’s degrees.

23. I could be a vegetarian if it weren’t for bacon.

24. I read up to 6 books at a time and tend to finish 1 a day.

25. I don’t have a favorite color, but I’m not a fan of yellow.

Eric in a Word: plenilune

Book of the Day: The Sacred and The Profane- Mircea Eliade

Song of the Day: Seven Deadly Sins- Flogging Molly

Religious Figure of the Day: Leucothea

Sketch medium: charcoal on bristol board.

2009-01-27T19:49:00.004Z

To become and to cease being. These are two simple facts of existence. Everything else is extraneous; they are just other things that fill the intervening space. They are just extra verbs. “Be” is the only verb that is absolutely necessary. Nothing else is relevant to the issue of birth and death, to be or not to be. And yet even this dichotomy is really a description of the same coin.

Eric in a Word: Be

Book of the Day: Pictorial Nominalism - Thierry De Duve

Song of the Day: Straight, No Chaser - Thelonious Monk Quartet

Religious Figure of the Day: Altjira

Sketch medium: marker and graphite on manilla envelope

Racism, who needs it?

2009-01-26T12:19:00.007Z

Today I experienced the still all too pervasive division and hatred of the “other” in our society (rather ironic considering the book I brought to read today). I am speaking in particular about “racism”, specifically between “white” and “black” populations, but divisions such as this are not just relegated to that distinction. There exist hatreds between most ethnic, cultural, and “racial” groups.

The incident or my brush with the "anti-Rosa Parks":
Standing in a line at the bus stop at 5:45 am this morning (yeah, damn early I know), I was 5th in line. Ahead of me were two women and two men – 1 Asian-American man, 1 Senegalese man I’ve met before, and 2 African-American women. Anyway, two more people showed up a couple of minutes after me, an African-American woman and man (not together). The woman is directly behind me, ignores my ‘good morning’, but that’s not unusual. A few seconds later, she literally leans around me to complain to the Senegalese man about the long line while glaring at me and then asked him the time. He answers with his beautifully accented English and she gets this look on her face like he just spit on her shoes. She then proceeds to talk to the young African-American man behind her (loudly) about how Obama is going to change this country and once she gets him involved in the conversation once again switches to the long line. She expresses her disgust at so many whites and foreigners moving into the area and taking the bus. I’m shocked and look around at everyone, but everyone is looking away and down except for the young man who makes the briefest of noncommittal eye contact. The bus pulls up and it is a Russian emigre driving. This woman, after all her complaining, actually steps out of line to wait for the next bus!

I consider the actual incident more a symptom of a larger disease, instead I’m going to intellectualize an emotional (personally and writ large) topic.

We, humans, talk a lot about “race” and “racism” but many of us don’t even know the history of the terms. Here in the U.S., for example, a lot of people specify “racism” in particular as “white” discriminatory activities, etc… against “black” people and populaces. “Race” and “racism” are much broader than this and have a rather storied history, don’t worry I won’t go into great detail, but here are a few key points:

The modern meaning of “race” emerged in Western languages in the 1600’s and referred primarily to categorizing people by their physical differences. Since at the time travel was more difficult, people who shared similar physical properties were often lumped into categories based around geographical regions (i.e. African Race, Asian race, European race…). These geographical regions were determined by the predominant features of the inhabitants there, because, surprise, surprise a group of people who have been living together and intermarrying for generation upon generation start sharing similar physical characteristics over time. Anyway, over time “race” has also taken on some distinct cultural overtones that have lead to other racial groups- the Irish race, the Greek race – usual in reference to some “inferior” qualities that made them distinct from those doing the categorizing (Britain & France mainly). A discussion of Social Darwinism would fit nicely here, but just check out the link.

Anyway, despite this most people still equate race with physically distinct populations. There are two things I find darkly humorous about all of this:

1) It is pretty well-known fact now that the genetic difference between any two humans is less than 1 percent. A lesser known fact is that the few differences there are, even in the most widely scattered and isolated groups occur in only about 7% of our genes. That means in even the most divergent populations, humans are about 93% the same biologically.
2) Despite the fact that categorizing individuals into racial groups was developed in societies increasingly dependant on colonization as much to reinforce their society’s “right” to colonize and enslave other populations as to “benignly” categorize people, we all still play by the game. All of us.

We as groups are still defined by this 400 year old system and we scramble, scrap and scrape to move up this imaginary ladder of superiority. Why? Because power structures are set up in reflection of this classification. The thing is, as long as we acknowledge the power of the categories and its implied rankings we give the whole structure support. The only way to truly undermine inequality and racism is to refuse to play by its rules and to stigmatize those who continue to do so. The path to equality is to change the game.

Eric in a Word: colpocoquette

Book of the Day: Race: The History of an Idea in America

Song of the Day: A Message to You Rudy- Dandy Livingstone

Religious Figure of the Day: 'Aho'eitu

Sketch Medium: graphite, colored pencil, & coffee on canvas

Inspiring First Class

2009-01-21T19:19:00.003Z

An interesting thing happened this morning; someone I don’t know asked me if I was the Giles from the Giles Daily Sketch blog. Getting an answer in the affirmative, which at that time in the morning consisted of a grunt and nod, they preceded to ask why I hadn’t posted in a week. Receiving a muttered “scanner issues” and “time” response, they decided I needed a bit of encouragement – they were right – and let me know that my blog and I were an inspiration to them. I must say, I was taken aback by this, I’ve never thought of myself as an inspirational person. I have friends with the talent (Rosetta for instance), but I wouldn’t consider myself that way. I am way too cynical and have a natural penchant for finding the Camusian absurdity in life. That being said, I appreciated the compliment.

Anyway, I had one of those experiences last night where I wanted to be inspirational, but could only see the absurdity during and after the event. I am speaking about my first teaching experience at the College of Southern Maryland. Teaching at this level isn’t particularly new to me, but there is a bit of a difference between teaching Native American Religion or the History of Christianity and Drawing. There’s a certain inspirational element needed in a beginning drawing class, most of the students come in with a desire to learn how to draw and no confidence or they come in thinking they know how to draw and aren’t going to learn much. Two different types of inspiration are needed.

I’m not sure I succeeded in either last night – the oddness of talking about drawing when I have always considered drawing a kinetic activity had me in two places at once. I wanted them to have the experience of doing what we were talking about as we talked about it, but lacked the time. Drawing, in fact I’d argue most visual art, is a full-body activity. It is the empathic connection with your subject and materials and how your body moves in response that creates art. Just looking or imagining doesn’t create, it is translating of observation and imagination into the physical act of creation that completes the circle.

Eric in a Word: coomb

Book of the Day: Detection by Gaslight - Douglas G. Greene, ed.
Song of the Day: Run for the Hills - Iron Maiden
Religious Figure of the Day: Lemminkainen

Sketch Medium: charcoal wash, coffee, green tea, on scrap paper

RIP - Mr. Wyeth

2009-01-16T12:50:00.007Z

I don’t feel like writing much today. One of the few people I have ever idolized died today. Although Andrew Wyeth never received the critical praise, I think his work was once called colored drawings and a bunch of Styrofoam and saccharin, his work has always struck a chord with me. His drawing and tempera skills have always astounded me. He was truly a master, if one unrecognized by the “experts”. I met Mr. Wyeth twice in my teenage years, once at a Wawa (he was buying candy corn) and then again through an arranged meeting at the Brandywine River Museum- where he gave me some invaluable tips on composition and drawing in the few minutes we interacted. As silly as it may sound, they were both formative meetings in my own progress as an artist. I will miss him and the excitement that accompanied the viewing of any of his new work.

1917 - 2009

Eric in a Word: callipygian
Book of the Day: The Art of Responsive Drawing- Nathan Goldstein
Song of the Day: Catfish on the Bayou - Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown
God of the Day: Aguara
Sketch Medium: graphite on bristol board

*Content Removed

2009-01-15T14:18:00.003Z

***The written portion of today’s Daily Sketch has been removed due to the use of unwarranted expletives, grandiloquent hyperbole, and occasional incidents of verbal nudity. Eric would like to apologize for any unforeseen consequences related to the reading of the latest entry before its removal. He would like to issue a special apology to the following:

Mrs. J. Whittley of Montalba, Texas- I am sorry that your young daughter was driven to enter a nunnery at the tender age of 9 after reading the blog upon a whim.

US Border Patrol and Customs agents- I know your job is to monitor the influx of legal and illegal customs and people. The chaos resulting from the spontaneous exodus of legal US citizens and products to Canada and points south must have made your job more difficult than usual.

James Franco- What I said was just uncalled for and I apologize, although I still think you should work on the kinetic aspects of your acting, amongst other things.

The Citrus Industry- I know there have been no direct ties to yakuza crime syndicates proven as of yet and to imply anything, at this point, was irresponsible. All I ask is that you leave my family alone; the responsibility for what I said is mine.

And finally, the victims of the feminicidios of Cuidad Jaurez- The blog entry and I have nothing to do with this, but think it is a tragedy that the killers of almost 400 women have yet to be brought to justice. It is equally wrong that Cuidad Jaurez is consistently ranked as one of the best cities to do business in Latin America despite the drug cartels and feminicidios – unless of course the rankings are for drug cartels and homicidal maniacs.

Eric in a Word: empasm

Book of the Day: The House of the Dead - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Song of the Day: They Dance Alone- Sting w/ Peter Gabriel

God of the Day: Yen-Lo-Wang

Sketch Medium: felt tip pen and green tea on bristol board.

Change is what?

2009-01-14T12:34:00.004Z

Ok, so I am really crunched for time today, so forgive me if what I say next is dense, inelegant, or even incomprehensible. I have been thinking a lot about change lately. Obama’s successful use of the word, and concept, during his campaign and the time since has really made it a buzz word for everything. In fact, what got me thinking about it today was a giant advertisement on a bus today for IKEA with their newest campaign slogan “Change is good” – imagine if you will, stumbling off a commuter bus at 7:00am to be confronted by a large yellow bus textually screaming “CHANGE is good”. It was a bit unnerving, especially since I was approached by a homeless man less than a block away who repeated the slogan – he only got 35 cents today, all I had.

Anyway, everyone is saying things like this: “Change is good”, “ I can’t wait for the change”, I am the change” . But what do we mean by “change”? It seems we just talk about change without thinking about how or what. We just assume it will be good because we’re convinced that the present is not good. We never consider the fact that things are always changing, much of it is neither good nor bad, it just is.

Look, I have nothing against Obama (yet), in fact I voted for him and believe he will be better for this country than McCain could possibly have been. However, before you buy into “Change is good” I think we should ask fundamental questions about what is changing, who is changing, why it is changing, how it will change, and what that change will mean in the short, medium, and long terms. Someone once said that change is the egg of the phoenix, just remember that the phoenix is born of ashes and ends in flames.Whatever the hell that means..

Eric in a Word: expergefacient

Book of the Day: The Analects- Confucius (William Edward Soothill trans.)

Song of the Day: Spoonful - Cream

God of the Day: Heimdall

Sketch Medium: Graphite and felt tip pen on used manilla envelope

I am the Professor now...

2009-01-13T18:18:00.005Z

As of yesterday, I have accepted a position at the College of Southern Maryland as an adjunct faculty member in their Department of Fine Arts and Humanities. My first class will be a drawing class. I have been thinking a lot over the last 24 hours about this opportunity- beyond the syllabus, etc…. What is drawing and how do you teach it?

My belief is that drawing, as in most things, must start with the fundamentals, the bare bones basics. So what is drawing? At its essence, I think drawing is the ability to observe and then represent those observations.

In my opinion, learning how to draw is mostly learning how to observe. You need a firm understanding of how light and shadow play upon the surfaces of objects; you need to be able to abstract what you see in such a way that you can imagine complex objects as constructs of simpler forms; you need to have the ability to see the movement of things as gestures. I would estimate that 75% of drawing is training yourself to see things differently. The remaining 25% is the technical aspect of drawing. The capture….

The technical aspect of drawing is in reality training your brain and hand to capture what you have observed. Acquiring the technical expertise is a process, a matter of doing and checking what you have done with your observation and then redoing until you have captured the observation to your satisfaction. This is what most people think of as drawing. As you gain confidence and your muscles and brain become attuned to the process you are able to do more and express more.

Drawing, to me at least, is very similar to learning to speak a language, you learn best by immersion. To speak a language you must speak the language. It is only by trying and making mistakes that you learn new words, you correct your pronunciation, and you extend your vocabulary. In my opinion the most important physical tool for drawing is the eraser and the most important non-observational skill is the ability to use your eraser wisely and mercilessly. Approach every drawing knowing it will not be perfect. Every drawing is in essence a map of the process by which the drawer has tried to capture their observation.

Eric in a Word: haptic

Book of the Day: World War One British Poets

Song of the Day: Save Tonight- Eagle-Eye Cherry

Sketch Medium: graphite,sumi-e ink, and coffee on watercolor paper

Site-Specific

2009-01-09T03:06:00.004Z

I have been thinking a lot about site-specific art today. It is a visual art form in which I used to work extensively, in fact it is the form of work in which I have the longest experience and in which I am most comfortable. When I say site-specific art, most people of Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty, Richard Serra’s Tilted Arc, perhaps, Claes Oldenburg’s baseball bat in Chicago, or almost anything Andy Goldsworthy. The types of work that I used to perpetrate were more Andy Goldsworthy-like, taking the materials at hand in a natural setting and manipulate them creatively. I tended to use the natural materials in a different way, however. My work was aimed at using natural materials at hand in a specific site to rework the site itself to look like a site of archaeological significance- particularly ancient ritual space or battle fields. It was more about art making that doesn’t focuses on the object or product, but rather the process, but unlike many artists who work on site-specific projects who engage with social and political issues, I am much more interested in my, and through me human, relationship with a specific physical place. I never took a commission to do this work and aside from a series of photos Laura took of my roadside stone sculptures in Colorado I never documented them. That wasn’t the point; it was simply to do them, to immerse myself in the work, in the time, and in the space. There is purity to it that I love. It is the axis mundi of all my other work and I need to make a pilgrimage again soon.

Eric in a Word: engastrimyth
Book of the Day: All Quiet on the Western Front- Erich Maria Remarque
Song of the Day: Night of the Assassins - Les Rallizes Denudes
Sketch Medium: graphite and turkish coffee on paper

Perfection smerfection

2009-01-08T20:26:00.003Z

I have been really struggling with my artwork the last week or so, today’s banana drawing in all its unevenness, spills, mistakes and joy (see above) may actually be a break through for me- finally. I have fallen into a bad spell of perfectionism and it has frozen me creatively. This happens every once and a while, I get this great idea and instead of just doing it, I press to do it perfectly. Instead of just exploring the idea I drive and force a perfect expression of that idea. I think a lot of people fall into this trap and all you get out of it is frustration, procrastination, and a serious case of nihilistic “what’s the point”-ism. To save everyone, including me, the suspense, there is no such thing as perfect. In fact, if there were, it would be fucking boring.

My artistic mentor and guru Kirby once told me it is not the things we do perfectly in any piece of artwork that make it successful. And it is not the incidental and accidental “mistakes” in any piece of artwork that make it unsuccessful. It is the interplay of the accidental and the purposeful, the combined working of the subconscious, the conscious, and the over conscious in any piece that make it a unified expression, a piece of art that is more than the sum of its parts. Kirby was and is a wise man.

It is not just in the arts that this is relevant. It is this interchange and interplay, this chaotic mix of the circle and the square, the mess and the order that makes life what it is. The ability to appreciate it all at any given moment, in part and as a whole, is what creates a beautiful life experience. You can’t let the pursuit of perfection keep you from living, keep you from creating, keep you from trying, or keep you from loving.

Beauty without imperfection is not beauty at all.

Eric in a Word: conbobberation

Book of the Day: Outliers- Malcolm Gladwell

Song of the Day: Handel - Serse "Ombra mai fu" - Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson

Sketch Medium: graphite, ink, coffee, tea, highlighter, white out on watercolor paper

Existential musings on a grey day

2009-01-07T13:22:00.003Z

It’s a miserably grey day today. The world seems to be standing in a line to see the light, diluted glow. I sit on the 901 surrounded by the lethargic waiters, weighted by the time it takes to travel space. From slowly moving seat to encased chair. From a fiberglass frame to drywall demarcations. Who are these people? Do they do this to survive? To thrive? To make a difference? To make a buck? Their thick winter coats, black, embrace and protect their fragile physicality, but what protects them from the existential chill? Family? Hope? I know not. I, for one, am bolstered in my knowledge that the cup is always full. By my belief that the cup is also part of the whole, that I am in the cup, outside of the cup, and the cup. I believe in illusion and its fragility. What keeps you when the atmosphere presses on you like the moist palmed grey hand of fate?

Why is it so upsetting and shocking to us when politicians or those in positions of high power appear to go bad? That’s like being surprised your cheese has melted in the summer sun. There are really two things to keep in mind: one- leverage is the name of the game in politics, whether it comes through previous relationships, spin and insinuation, or… two- the messages the public receive has always been spun, either by political opponents, friends, or the inherent bias of the reporting agent. The thing is, they all do it in the belief that they are acting in everyone’s best interest. There is no “evil” agenda, just competing definitions of what is best. There are no impartial facts, information is always shaped and interpreted by humans, their comprehension and communication of events and statements always limited and informed by their own beliefs and experience.

We are afraid of our own mortality in this country. We spend way too much money and time trying to hide the physical signs of advancing years and we avoid thinking upon death until the very last moment. The fact is that we are fragile animals and many of us will not live past this very moment. Perhaps the fiction of immortality keeps some us of from the precipice of despair, but I would prefer to embrace the inevitable. I ask myself every morning, “If today were my last day would I be satisfied with my planned actions being my last ones?” If the answer is no for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something. Approaching every breath as my last, I experience the world around me with vividness. Your end which is endless is as a snowflake dissolving in the pure air - embrace it.

Does anyone else smell waffles?

Eric in a Word: pinguescence

Book of the Day: Moby Dick- Herman Melville (yeah, I know, but it's a long frickin' book)

Song of the Day: Can't Stop- Red Hot Chili Peppers

Sketch Medium: pencil, blue & black ink, coffee on found paper

Let the quest begin...

2009-01-06T17:15:00.006Z

Over the past few months I have experienced a renaissance, a rebirth, into a wholly new, or more accurately holistic person. The reason I bring this up, beyond this blog playing a vital role in the process, is that I have been unable to find a satisfactory way of marking and thus completing the transition. This situation begs for a ritual, but I have been unable to find any that fit. There is a paucity of powerful rituals of transformation out there. The ones we are either become watered down, laden with religious meaning and dogma, or somehow miss the mark. Creating a personal ritual that has meaning for me seems like the only option, but here I run a risk of not creating a fully effective one, primarily because of the highly individualistic nature of it and the possible lack of connection with anything outside of myself. So, I am on a quest, one that could take a while, but to settle for a half-ass marker of this powerful experience would be disingenuous and doing myself a disfavor.

Eric in a Word: anfractuosity

Book of the Day: Simmering Away: Songs from the Kanginshu

Song of the Day: Fireflies- Mofro

Sketch Medium: ink on green tea infused paper (2.5" x3.5")*

*All sketches from now on will conform to the 2.5" x3.5" format unless otherwise noted.

Commuting

2009-01-05T03:00:00.006Z

Today, for the first time since moving to the DC region, I took the commuter bus for the entirety of my 1.5 hour commute. It was quite an experience, enjoying the ride in the near dark with 50 plus people I live near but do not know. With the tinted windows, the fog and utterly silent, immovability of my fellow passengers I half-expected the bus driver to get on the speakers and in a voice like the step-child of Tom Waits and James Earl Jones announce, “We will arriving at the river soon, please have your obolus ready, Charon can be grouchy this early in the morning.”

I think what really struck me was the existential isolation that seems to be designed into each and every bus ride I have ever taken. There is a sense that while on the bus you should be quiet (presumably for your fellow passengers), never make eye contact or touch anyone if possible. What you get is four columns of individuals riding in silence in their own little bubbles of silent space. To step across that barrier is tantamount to breaking a minor social taboo of intimacy- like drunk dialing your ex-girlfriend on her birthday or accidentally groping your cousin while reaching for the biscuits at Thanksgiving.

On the other hand, driving into work, alone, is the ultimate act of commuter narcissism. You pick the music, you pick the route, you pick your nose, and you get to act like the most important person on the road. The pull toward lone commuting is strong. Feeling like you are in control of your own destiny, your own path, making the choices, being the Decider is heady stuff. We all like to feel this way in our lives, although it is rarely the case. The commuter bus is better metaphor for how most of us live our lives. We pick a route, a route similar to many other people, and we look for the appropriately prescribed next step where we exit this route and pick another. We have some say into where we are going, but more often than not, we follow the pre-established tracks. It is easier, more socially acceptable, and frankly cheaper.

I, am content being on the commuter bus, for now, but know it won’t last. There will come a day, as there so often has in the past, where I will open the emergency exit mid-route and exit at an irregular stop.

Eric In a Word: ullage
Book of the Day: Envisioning Information- Edward R. Tufte

Song of the Day: Kiss the Sky- Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra

Sketch Medium: grape juice & turkish coffee on faded construction paper (actual size 6" x 4.7")

The Deep End

2008-12-29T12:44:00.000Z

I am not feeling very loquacious today, but I have spent a lot of internal time mulling over the importance our society places on appearances often to the detriment of actuality. We always strive to maintain that public mask of financial wealth, physical health & beauty, and high libidity, especially when we feel these is not the case. Often when the maintenance of this social mask becomes impossible we are driven to extreme acts which we would never consider otherwise: acts to distract, acts to desperately maintain, acts to end the pain of maintaining. The thing about obsessing over the appearance of things is we rarely have time to enjoy what actually is, in fact often we are so caught up in the web of what we wish it was, think it should be, or think we deserve that we no longer have a clue as to how things actually are. I am not immune to this constant push and pull, but I have grown increasingly tired of missing my life for the illusion of a life dictated by what others think and feel is important. It is the difference between swimming in the shallow end of my neighbor’s pool instead of the deep end of my own ocean.

Eric in a Word: grok

Book of the Day: Nonzero- Robert Wright

Song of the Day: Skellig- Loreena McKennitt

Sketch Medium: graphite on paper (actual size 5.6" x 4.9")

Requisite Holiday Blog- Rebirth and Renewal

2008-12-23T12:38:00.001Z

First, I apologize for the excessive length of this entry, but I beg you to bear with me and read through.

I feel the need to put my 2-cents in about the holidays- seems like every other blogger in the US is. I personally don’t like the way we, in the US, deal with this holiday season. I view through the lens of ritualistic activity and feel that in an effort to be inclusive, to pander to our consumer driven ways, and simplify we have diluted the meaning out of this season full of so many great rituals- we’ve got Hanukkah, the winter solstice, Christmas, Kwansaa, New Years, and sometimes even Ramadan.

All of these rituals have a very similar objective (by objectives I mean how participants are affected by these events, how they are different on the other side of the ritual than before, etc…): renewal and rebirth. This includes renewing one’s bonds with family and community, renewing your spiritual relationship, renewing oneself and the world. In each tradition this is done through specific mechanisms- fasting, lighting of symbolic candles, gift giving, noise to frighten evil spirits and welcome the reborn year, etc…. In the US, we have developed the season into a more inclusive entity in the only way we seem to know how- we have secularized it. And our most powerful tool for secularization is through the highlighting of consumer compliant aspects of the experience- we have separated, or emphasized the giving of gifts (in memory of the Christmas story, in honor of the rebirth of the world, to reinforce community bonds) to such an extent that it has become the dominant trait of this time of year.

Now, before I get nailed with comments, I don’t mean to say that people cannot or do not have powerful ritual experiences during this time of year. Nor that people do not emerge feeling reborn, reattached to themselves and their community. I just want to point out, or more directly ask that we all dig a little deeper than presents during this special time when we have been given the space to do so- renew your community and family bonds through more than just cards or gifts, allow yourself to be reborn, say thank you to your friends and family and tell them you love them. With this in mind, I’ll take the first step:

Laura (my wife): You are incredible, I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you (fewer cats maybe, but not without you). Thank you so much for loving me and sticking with me through all the travails and tough times over the last few years.

Mom & Dad: Couldn’t have made it where I am without you. You and your relationship has served as a high standard that I am constantly struggling to uphold. Love you both.

Ken (my brother): You are a butthead, but I love you. You don’t give yourself enough credit, but someday you are going to actually see how smart, capable, and cool you are. By the way ladies, he is still single….

Grandma: There is no way you are going to read this, I know for a fact you don’t have time for this foolishness and I respect that. Either way, for everyone else out there, I love my grandma and respect her immensely.

Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, etc…: There are too many of you to list here, and I am sorry for that, but I love you all. If you want more details feel free to call me or email and I’ll tell you in detail.

Friends: I have been blessed with a lot of great friends. Again too many to list, but I want to give a quick “shout-out” to my closest 8 (by city so as not to embarrass anyone):

Arlington- you sir are a fucking goofball. You are the soul of being comfortable with one’s uniqueness and thriving in it. Thanks for being my friend, we love you down here in SoMD.

DC- you are my newest friend. That being said our thought patterns are soon in tune it is hard to imagine when you were not my friend. You are indeed a sister to me, thank you.

Monterey- You guys are hard core and it looks like you are raising a hard core kid. Laura and I both know you are going to make great parents, because everything you do is just like that. We miss you here, but know we always think of you.

Philadelphia- you guys are family to me. Although we only get to see each other once or twice a year, they are always some of my best memories when year end rolls around. Thanks for staying friends despite everything. Hopefully we can see you both soon, cause we love ya.

New Haven- Hey you big lug. I’d give you a hug everyday if I could, despite the resulting feeling of violation and unseemliness. You probably don’t know how much you mean to me, but I’d take a bullet, or a pair of sneakers, for you without hesitation. Love ya man.

New York- What can I say? Buffalo lives! You were my best man and still are. We don’t see or talk to each other enough, but that is probably in the best interests of the universe- repairing space-time tears is a bitch. Laura and I both love you and your lovely wife.

For the rest of you out there who didn't make the top 8, don't worry I love you all to.

Happy Holidays everyone!

Eric in a Word:skimble-skamble

Book of the Day:Artillery Through the Ages- Abert Manucy

Song of the Day:Missing Otha Turner a bit today so here's his successor: Sharde Thomas

Sketch Medium: graphite and ink on paper (actual size 2.25" x 1.5")

Musical Languages

2008-12-22T14:08:00.000Z

Well today I had two trains of thought going through my brain, one emotional and one more intellectual. So I have chosen to tackle the more intellectual this morning as I am just not up to writing about the other on a Monday.

This weekend, I began building a musical instrument for myself. Now this sounds much more impressive than it actually is, as I was constructing a diddley bow. For those who don’t know, a diddley bow is basically two screws, a metal wire, a plank of wood, a glass jar and a wood block. You play it with a bottle neck while plucking the wire. Anyway, while making the diddley bow I began thinking about music history and the general loss of traditional forms/ of musical language. Before I begin, forgive me if I use inappropriate terms, I am definitely no expert in this, merely a casual observer.

We have lost a lot of these languages mainly due to the dominance of the European developed variation forms (think particularly classical music – Bach, Handel, etc…). This particular means of composing/ playing allows a wide range of key changes and harmony combinations absent from earlier forms of music. It has actually become so dominant that many folk music styles have been subsumed or irrevocably changed by it- Romani music for instance was mutated dramatically by the introduction of the accordion, so much so it is hard to conceive of it without it. The only system that seems to retain some of the “purity” of its ancestry is traditional Chinese and Japanese music which operates on an entirely different system from more Western musics- more in line with Greek music of Pythagoras -based off natural sounds, i.e. individual notes/ keys set in square root of 2 proportions- than anything now prevalent in Europe.

Anyway, our auditory landscape has been simultaneously enriched by this historic trend as well as limited. We are able to pull off my complexity and harmonics, but at the same time we tend to not “hear” the atonal, alternative forms of music as music. I have become increasingly fascinated lately with the making of music with a limited sound palate- like the diddley bow and other instruments (ektara, musical saw, shakuhachi, etc…) provide. There is a purity there that sometimes is missing from more complex instruments.

Eric in a Word: attercop

Book of the Day: Heidegger- Jonathan Ree

Song of the Day:Please Don't Forget Me- Witchcraft

Sketch Medium: graphite on paper (actual size: 5.5" x 4.5")

Aesthetics on my mind

2008-12-19T12:40:00.000Z

In my opinion, all human work is founded upon philosophical (or religious) principles. Without, nothing can be accomplished, nothing created. We would be tether less and nobody would know what to make or what to do – all that would be created or done would be empty of meaning. Without basic principles of aesthetics we could not determine what is beautiful and what is not. Without an understanding of categories we cannot transcend the categories.

To an artist the subject and materials inform each other; tools and material inform the idea and shape the realized form, the idea helps choose the materials and tools. Yet underneath is this principle of the aesthetic, that of the artist informed by the culture in which they live and shaped by their experiences in their environment. But this begs the question of whether aesthetic properties are subjective, objective, etc….

Although the study of aesthetics goes back to at least ancient Greece, I don’t have the energy or time to start there, so I’m going to start with Kant. Kant’s theory of “pure beauty” laid out four primary characteristics: objectivity, spectator disinterest, freedom from concepts (purpose), the mandatory nature of its beauty. When no definite purpose, or concept, is involved- like in the random interplay of fall leaves- our cognitive powers are freed from restraint and it is when this interplay is harmonious that there is an experience of pure beauty.

There is a lot to be said for Kant’s ideas. To take it to the most basic of human interaction with beauty, sexual arousal, there have been many objective studies about how we perceive beauty in our fellow humans. Studies in the 19th century by a psychologist named Wilhelm Wundt showed that arousal follows a distinct bell curve based on the complexity of the stimulus involved. Too simple and we get bored, too complex and we get confused, but right in the center that is where beauty tends to lie. Also, we now know that facial beauty across cultures can usually be boiled down to two areas, uniqueness and symmetry.

Hume wrote about beauty not being so much a matter of something being good of its kind and so involving perfection of a concept but rather something having “good making” or “bad making” qualities. In this way, a work of art of art could be praised for having a good quality, like clarity of light, but this could be outbalanced by other qualities that would out balance it, creating a work that was overall not beautiful despite its one good quality.

More recently, Professor Joseph Margolis at Temple (check out What, After All is a Work of Art?) talked about “aptness,” “partiality,” and “non-cognitivism” characterizing art appreciation, rather than “truth,” “universality,” and “knowledge.” For him, works of art are “culturally emergent entities” and thus not directly available via the senses alone. On the other hand, Arnold Hauser prefers a non-relativistic point of view and even went so far as to provide a ranking of “taste”. So-called “high art” would outrank “low art” because of the greater creativity of its formal structure and the weight of its content. Another more modern view point is that of Robert Taylor, who set forth the idea of a level point of view based off the level of the viewer. In other words, Thomas Kinkaide and Michelangelo have equal value for their respective audiences.

Once again, I have gone off the deep end in my philosophical ramblings. In the end, I find it difficult to separate my own subjective sense of beauty from that of my own cultural milieu, whether it is in opposition to what is there or acceptance. I fill in my own gaps in beauty through access to other cultures, other environments. I personally tend to lean towards a more post –modern interpretation of beauty as resulting as much from context- viewer, space, moment in time, etc…. I think this may unnecessarily complexify (yeah, I made that up) the conversation, but then again, I have never been one for definitive answers….

Eric in a Word:apricate

Book of the Day: Egon Schiele- Jeanette Zwingenberger

Song of the Day: Ubuhle bakho- Ladysmith Black Mambazo

Sketch Medium: red chalk & vine charcoal on page from Abigail Adams biography (actual size: 6" x 9")

Fear and the Art of Truth

2008-12-18T12:35:00.000Z

I’ve been thinking a lot about fear today. Fear of embarrassment, fear of pain, fear of saying what you really mean, fear of death. We tend to let fear rule our actions and interactions with others. Most of the time this boils down to protecting oneself from pain (of rejection, etc…), or protecting others from pain. I don’t really have a point here, other than fear often only begets more fear, which in the long run is infinitely more painful than any discomfort that a shared truth can cause.

Related to this is the expression of truth in an effort to alleviate your own pain and feelings of guilt. Often this is just more beneficial to the expresser rather than the receiver. It is a transfer of pain, not a tackling of fear and a shared truth. I think the key to wisdom and a shared trust in relationships is being able to identify the differences and communicate openly about the truths that can be shared without merely transferring pain or fear. This is when you raise truth-telling from the expression of truth to the sharing of trust- from selfish interaction to true relationship.

Eric in a Word: portolan

Book of the Day: The Elegant Universe- Brian Greene (cont...)

Song of the Day: Prayer of Death- Entrance

Sketch Medium: ink on french dictionary page (actual size 5.25" x 4")

An Incident of Birth

2008-12-17T12:50:00.000Z

I was originally going to write my blog today on manual deformation modeling and the geodetic measuring, since I have been indulging in a bit of extracurricular reading in Volcano Cowboys and found some interesting correlations between the reliance on field observation in volcanology and the skills needed by visual artists, particularly those who do installation work. However, in honor of my rebirth in a new job here at the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies, I have decided to grace you with the true story of my birth (some of you may know it already):

Picture this, November 28, 1974 at 9am in Southern Virginia – Thanksgiving Day. Two men, scraggly and tired drive up a country road in a Maroon Buick Apollo, weaving slightly at 75 MPH, tires screeching around corners as they go hunting for wild turkey. They slam on the breaks outside of the country liquor store, a sign bringing them up short, “CLOSED”- Thanksgiving morning, no wild turkey to warm their bones with liquid fire.

Exasperation is evident on the passenger’s face, anger on the driver. He guns the engine, preparing to peel away from the blasphemy of a closed liquor store. Simultaneously, 20 feet behind the car, a giant bird - 5’ tall, black and gray striped, delicate red ring around her eyes- emerges from the forest: a real Wild Turkey!

The engine gunned, the tires squealed, the bird screamed leaning forward in its heightened panic. And from behind, with a pop like a cork from a bottle of shaken champagne, an egg flies forth at incredible speed. The air sizzles around it as friction tears apart air molecules and the fabric of space/time itself. In silence, the egg disappears.

November 17, mid afternoon, a pretty young woman and her husband sit upon a porch swing speaking quietly of the future and kids. All of a sudden there is a loud sound, as if the hands of a thousand gods clapped all at once. And from the other end of the porch, an egg- the color of Betelgeuse- appears, bounces once on the end of the porch, cracks, bounces again and separates into two large halves. Emerging from the shell, a small baby boy, who rolls once, hits the welcome mat, flips up and unto the lap of the woman, my mother.

Eric in a Word: tripudiate
Book of the Day: The Elegant Universe- Brian Greene
Song of the Day: Birds of Fire- Mahavishnu Orchestra
Sketch medium: graphite on paper (actual size 2" x 4.5")

Farewell But Not Goodbye

2008-12-15T20:31:00.000Z

Today is my last day at the Nonprofit Roundtable and I find myself reflecting on the nature of transitions. I have grown to think of those I have been working with over the last two years as my work family and this transition to a new position at an organization that has only tenuous relations with those I have been working with has proved more emotional than I anticipated. In my more intellectual facet, the place to which I retreat when faced with situations like this, I have been reminded of my studies in ritual.

In a few hours, I will be participating in the time honored ritual of job transition- the going away party. I will be inundated with well-wishers and congratulations. My role in this ritual is to accept these compliments with grace and sincerity. We will all make promises to keep in touch and mean them with all our hearts, while also knowing that inevitably most of us will drift apart as our lives move in their respective directions. But that my friends, that is not what the ritual is about. The ritual is about expressing joy and sorry, about reinsuring ourselves that change is good and that things will continue to the benefit of all parties. It is about cushioning the blow of change. It is about reinforcing relationships against change in a hope to maintain against the centripetal force of divergence.

I sincerely hope to maintain all the friends I have made over the last two years, but know the glass is always full- ½ with present friends and ½ with those who absence is framed by the container of my memories.

Eric in a Word: Natiform

Book of the Day: Only Companion: Japanese Poems of Love and Longing - Sam Hamill (trans)

Song of the Day: Whorehoppin Shit Goddamn I'm a Man- Eagles of Death Metal

Sketch Medium: Computer generated drawing

A Vacation for a Day

2008-12-12T13:15:00.000Z

I have been flexing my intellect a bit on this blog lately, but today I have no more intelligence to give. Instead, I shall let my images speak for themselves and finish packing up my desk here at the Roundtable as I prepare for my new job next week.

Eric in a Word: umquhile

Book of the Day:Being and Time - Martin Heidegger

Song of the Day:Pali Gap- Jimi Hendrix

Sketch medium: top- graphite on paper (actual size 6"x3")/ bottom- office pen, green, yellow, & pink highlighter (actual size 1" x 0.6")

Noosphere=Internet?

2008-12-11T13:38:00.000Z

A former professor (not related to the one below), now friend and brother in Red Sox Nation, brought up someone I had not thought of in at least five years - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.

What I found most interesting about this random interaction was its alignment with my own thoughts today. I have spent this morning mulling over the idea of the internet as a sort of collective consciousness, a developing hive mind. Chardin, as well as a Russian dude named Vernadsky, helped develop the idea of a “noosphere” , kind of like an atmosphere made up of reflective human thought. In opposition to the Herbert Spencer survival of the fittest clan, and the descartes crew of mind/body splits, Chardin posited this idea of the Law of Complexity and Consciousness where matter has a natural drive to arrange itself in increasingly complex structures towards increasingly higher levels of consciousness. Humans dwell in the noosphere where matter has reached the state of complexity where consciousness turns back on itself. To put it another way, it is like evolution on a universal level, the noosphere is that point where Earth has reached a interlinked system of consciousness and information, self awareness and instantaneous interaction.

What struck me was how this idea really illustrates my own thoughts on the development of the internet. As more and more people world wide gain access, and as more and more information is uploaded, and as speed increases, we are quickly gathering a reference repository of much that it means to be human. More and more we Google things, or check out the Wiktionary, or communicate via IM as our sources of interaction and information gathering. We are using the internet more and more as a collective brain, and more and more it is beginning to resemble the collective glories and faults of collective human knowledge….

Perhaps the mice are close to getting their question after all.

Eric in a Word: Ataraxy
Book of the Day: is a magazine- Art in America (International Review)
Song of the Day: Hound Dog- Big Mama Thornton featuring Buddy Guy
Sketch medium: graphite on paper (actual size 2" x1.5")

Embodied Values

2008-12-09T12:50:00.000Z

I began my “deathbed” conversations with someone who I have only recently met, but have developed a deep friendship with over that short period of time. When trying to shed the layers of socio-cultural baggage that prevents us from being totally open and honest with one another, I found that I was unable to do so (not that strange) in a very interesting way. I was physically unable to say certain things, my body would literally begin to shake and my faculty for speech deserted me until I rephrased the statement. The most unusual thing was that this occurred only on a semi-conscious level, almost instantaneous to the activity. It wasn’t until later, when a feeling of incompleteness came over me as I was reflecting on the interaction, did I realize what had happened and what I was trying to actual express. This has really got me thinking on a line of inquiry I haven’t tackled in a while, at least not systematically – the embodiment of cultural values.

A person’s internal motivations and understanding are reflection of both external values and socio-cultural ideas of what can and cannot be experienced. What we know is a process of reconciliation of our sensory experience of our environment – the initial input- and the process of interpretation by our conscious and unconscious mind. American culture is rooted in a dualistic philosophy of separation between the rational mind and the feeling body, the validity of a person’s unique experience is a socio-cultural construction of the physical body and the feelings associated with it supposedly expressed by the rational mind.

Our biological and experiential participation in social and cultural environments plays an active and intentional role of promoting the particular views of society and social relationships. Our American bodies reinforce the dichotomies that have historically defined existence – mind and body, individual and society, culture and biology. Within this definition of the body senses are taken as unique and individual experience of concrete external objects.
Through both passive and active engagement of the world, our senses are modified by experience, and a history of what is “really real” is internalized to align with our defined bodily relationship to conceptual reality. Since the senses interpret how these external realities are understood, the power structure of society are tied to morally permissible sensory experiences –perceptions both shape and define our reality.

The way in which knowledge about objects is obtained and processed is an internal understanding of what is and is not a culturally defined form of truth. Our visceral experience of recognition and interpretation is based on culturally defined assumptions of what is and is not significant. Our culture prioritizes certain bodily senses (visual and hearing) in the normal activity of everyday life and our bodies are thus conceived as regulated with respect to the external. Our bodies become agents of communication that perpetuate acceptable behaviors, are transformed by external influence and are also transforming authorities.

During the European Enlightenment, there was a prevailing pre-occupation with defining the rational, higher mind and the body’s animal nature (thanks Descartes). This dualistic divison was a direct expression of the social value placed upon rationality versus the body’s senses and emotive responses to them. Expressions of personal power and control revolved around a person’s ability to project a cultured persona in opposition to a savage persona. It was predominantly the moral values of religion, the more conservative Protestant ones in North America, that defined the first interactions with the non-Judeo-Christian body, and thus helped define a concept of the non-cultured “other”.

These Judeo-Christian, and particularly Protestant, interpretations of the body include notions of blackness and underprivileged as signs of divine disfavor. Their perceived inferiority coupled with a physical - and correspondingly, cultural – differences to the socio- cultural elite justified their position of slavery and indentured servitude. This manner of thought generated a political philosophy of moralizing and fetishizing those that were non-European. The same basic structuring mechanisms also applied to the divisions between man and woman, although this has a longer historical footprint (thank you Eve, or at least the male promulgators of Eve’s supposed role). We still deal with this baggage, and all the underlying ramifications of danger and attraction, in all our “interracial” and “gender” interactions.

I guess my main point in this long diatribe is that how we understand each other is a reflection our cultural interpretative tools set and sensory inputs. In America, we find the language and the categories of expression contained in religion, medicine, science, law, media, as well as other political and social groups who exert intense control over our minds and bodies in order to produce and maintain a cohesive social order. To recognize and then self select from these influences in a conscious manner is highly difficult and often impossible task. But then again, you never know what you’ll find unless you look.

Eric in a Word: Oxter

Book of the Day: On Computable Numbers, with an Application to the Entscheidungsproblem- A.M. Turing

Song of the Day: Moanin' - Charles Mingus

Ars Moriendi

2008-12-08T12:41:00.001Z

This is a special week for me, in more than one way. It is not only my last week at my current job (The Nonprofit Roundtable) it is also the first full week after Pearl Harbor Day. What does that mean? Well, for the last few years, I have used this week as a sort of memorial to my grandfather (Frank Giles) who fought in the Pacific theater during World War II. He died when I was quite young, but I remember a lot about our interactions, especially with trains (he was a train engineer) and his crazy stories (he had me completely convinced that there was a helicopter in their basement).

The way I have chosen to remember him is to take a week and meditate on my own mortality, my own transience in this physical realm. At first glance, this may sound morbid, but it is really more about acknowledging my own impermanence and enjoying every moment. I try and keep the idea that each breath is my last, each moment is the last I will see, each thought the last I will think…the process brings a vividness to each second and an attention to each detail that can be astounding.

The second part of this exercise is more public. In the spirit of contemplating my own existence, I have small “deathbed conversations” with select people over the week (7 people I have chosen beforehand). I choose one person a day and ask them if they would be willing to have a very brief, very intense conversation. A conversation where we strip away all of the external trappings (the shouldn’t say, couldn’t say) and speak openly and honestly about things. It is a closed conversation and one that is often kept secret afterwards. It is a “if this is the last thing I ever say, the last time I will ever see you” interactions. They are very intense. In fact, it is rare that all 7 people I have chosen agree to participate. More often than not, I have 1 or 2 conversations a year.

It is with this in mind, this transition, this shedding of baggage, this rebirth, that I enter this week.

Eric in a Word: Storiated

Book of the Day: Emotion, Depth, and Flesh- Sue L. Cataldi

Song of the Day: Ars Moriendi- Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson

Letter of Transishun...

2008-12-05T13:32:00.000Z

Dearest,

The Weather has grown Colder, yet the sun is high tho the shortness of days. I will inform you with Pleasure that I am Well at the Present & I hope that When this Reaches you that it may find you Well I Rec'd your letter of Feb. the 8th on the 2nd day of this month & I Have Delayed Answering it untill Which I Hope you will Excuse me for & I will Promise to do better in the future. I was verry glad to Hear from you & that you was Well.. We are Generaly Well I Believe at the Present I will Inform you that I leave on the 15th ofDec. & we Have Bin on the Boat Ever since. We was 6 days comeing miles through the a busy timefull ofTransishun, one of the Crookedest & narrest Channels that a Steam Boat Ever went Before But we Have got through with about most all together. We Have Some Work with us & we are now Penetrating into the verry Heart of it Since we Started we Have taken over one Hundred thousand Dollars worth of what Steps that we needed We Have See no Armed Rebels yet But we are Exspecting to be Fired at Every day By Media I know not where we are going for certain But think that we will Fight our way thru I Exspect that we will Have our Next fight after 15. Below the mouth of the River I Exspect Ere this Reaches you to be in a fight--But that you know is what we all come to nonprofits for We Have got to fight Before we Can come Home

We can not Exspect to help with out Fighting & I am in favor of Doing the Fighting as soon as Possible & then those of us that are Spared can Return to there Honnest Friends. Will is getting Pretty Stout again But I am told that comeing with this new Expedition might sadden me but concluded to stay though I Exspect that Period of Saddness to pass as Time.
If you see my Friends Please tell them where I am & that I know not How soon that I will see them Agin. I may not untill I see the End of our Transishun though tell them I will If Necessary at any time tell them that I await new Contact infomation. I Believe that I have written all of any Importance at the Present--I can't say how Soon they will Know

Please write Soon My love & Respects to all & Reserve a share for your self Please Excuse my Bad writting for I have little time.

Direct as before Verry Respectfully yours in Friend Ship love & truth

Eric in a Word: Humicubation

Book of the Day: The Body in the Text- Anne Cranny-Francis

Song of the Day: The Wind - Cat Stevens

Dec 4: Voices in My Head

2008-12-04T12:46:00.000Z

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I think lately. So far I have determined that I have at five distinct thoughts, or thought patterns, simultaneously happening at all times. These are not “voices” per se, but rather distinct yet interactive ideas or streams of consciousness. To be honest, this balancing act can be a bit jarring – especially when there are two or more contradictory and emphatic thoughts at the same time. In an effort to better describe and understand my own thought processes, I’ve started naming the patterns. They are, in order of usual proximity to the external world:

1) The Actor – the Actor is the external voice, the one I project to the outside world. It is simultaneously the mask and the stage. Rather than being distinct in and of itself it is more often than not the combination of one or more of the other voices and the surrounding environment.

2) The Idea Guy- the Idea guy is where I spend a good chunk of my time. It is a constant torrent of possibilities, diverse interconnections and ideas. This pattern at first appears to be a relatively logical chain of thoughts, but is more like a maze that leads to dead ends and absurdities. The Idea Guy works with The Poet constantly and is the main well from which the Actor draws:
“We ritualize all our spaces, creating stages upon which we act. We where the appropriate mask for the stage we attempt to set-up, but we want to be the directors at the same time, trying to use our masks and role to influence the masks and roles of those who enter our consecrated space. The thing is that everyone is doing this and the spaces interact. We’re waiting for Godot, but when he shows up he’s not who we expected. He’s Hamlet in Singing in the rain, he’s Tartuffe confessing his sins to facilitate future ones…”

3) The Professor- this is the voice I attacked yesterday. The critic, the know-it-all, the self-limiting voice of fear and unnecessary limitations. It is the choke chain for my behaviors and thoughts. This pattern doesn’t play well with others and is constantly undermining:
“You really shouldn’t be putting this in writing. People will think you’re nuts. Why would you share this anyway? What would your mother think? You are such an idiot. You’re embarrassing yourself and everyone else as well….”

4) The Poet – the Poet is my favorite voice and the place I like to spend my time. It is hard to put the thoughts of the Poet in words. They are impressions, expressions, metaphors, and raw emotion. The Poet is by far the most powerful of my thought patterns but unfocused and flighty – often as much a distraction to human interaction as help, but the core of all my artistic and creative work. The Poet only interacts with the Idea Guy regularly, but has the power and occasional want to overpower everything else:
“Wow! Feel the way the light just hit the fold in her shirt, like caressing a satin mountain, miniscule landscape body informed heated by human core. Whoa – feel that smell like gold and black on butter….”

5) The Analyst- the Analyst is always on. It is the dispassionate observer. The Analyst never interacts with the Actor directly. In fact the Analyst rarely interacts directly with any of the other voices, but rather asks questions of the actions and thoughts of the others:
“Why did you think that? Where did that come from? What can we learn from that? “

* The Anarchist - the anarchist is the force of chaos who makes frequent and random cameos into the mix above. There is no way to explain the Anarchist in words- it is beautifully subversive, yet decisively counterproductive and creative at the same time.

Eric in a Word: Unobtainium

Book of the Day:The Cheiko Poems - Takamura Kotaro

Song of the Day: Svefn-g-englar- Sigur Ros