Studio Photographs and Notes| Here are a few photographs of my work environments. On the work table in my studio space lie notes for my Inventing Landscapes with Color Pencil class, offered through Ivy Tech Community College. The last photograph is from the class room, when I did demonstration drawings for my drawing class in chalk. (I now use dry erase markers.) I have drawn countless drawings over the years for my drawing class, and as I do not own a smart phone, I do not have a practical camera for recording these undertakings. I have only this one image to my name, which is the one presented below. I can only compare these instructional drawings to a Buddhist sand painter, who erases his work.
Learning Curves: Autism is the lens through which I view not only my creative life but also the world. While most professional artists seek a style, a community, or a livelihood with their craft, my focus revolves around a hermetic thought process that first reverse engineers creative ventures that interest me, and then applies what I've learned to create original work.
Google Streetview: A couple of years ago, I was walking home from the coffee house (as usual) and Google Streetview drove up beside me and snapped a picture. I was heading uphill on 4th, almost to the gate entrance of Rosehill Cemetery, which, when I walk on foot, I always cut through. I never thought to look for myself until today, and there I was, with laptop in tow, in considerably warmer weather than is presently had. I find this apropos as I have numerous places of dark interest pinned on Google Earth, and here I am within a half-block of a cemetery: 39°09'56.07" N 86°32'35.13" W
1986 (The year I moved to Indiana.)
New Novel: My new novel is six-something years in the making, which is almost equal to the time it took me to reach the first draft stage of Icarus Transfigured. I slave daily on it, although my sluggish progress these past two and a half years is due to poor decisions about my health and managing my anxiety disorder. Resultantly, this book, as with the first, evolves with my life and understanding, and as many disruptive events have occurred during this time, they need to be processed. (Do not look to me completing this work any time soon.)
Roll-over artwork from failed website ventures: Banner from Death by Algorithm, with some of its original text below. (I wished I had held onto that dotcom name!) WARNING: Clicking on these unlinked images will only return you to the top of the page!
The Road to Nirvana is Paved with Karaoke: Schopenhauer said that every generation believes it is the salt and summit toward which humanity has striven. The case is always strong, but clearly wrong if the next generation does not concur. Where seizing the reins of power (as well as the modes of production), we have not so much liberated the best and brightest among us as have been swallowed up by manifold vanity projects of plebeians. The New World Order of culture is Karaoke Culture; and where culture is left to its consumer to invent, one gets exactly the culture one deserves.
Losing Getting Lost: One untold loss in the new algorithmic age is that of accidental discovery, where one happens upon unsought exciting things. Nowadays, overly helpful cookies and spyware keep track of your movements online, and you see only those advertisements of places you have visited. You are effectively denied access to random unknown places, unless you actively seek them out. Of course, if you knew where you wanted go, it would defeat the point of going.
Ghost World: When I started my website in 2002, slow Internet speeds dictated that economy in execution should be one’s guiding principle: If it took more than thirty seconds to download your website’s homepage, then you had a poor design. As Internet speeds have increased, this enertia has not been removed but, instead, scaled up. Many prominent websites bury their content, which may be generally regarded as slight (no more than a few paragraphs), under a plethora of banners, pop-up videos, and automated chatbots wishing to converse with you. These layers of subterfuge dance and dart around your scrolling finger like a swarm of sweat bees. Their sole purpose is to redirect your inquiry to an advertiser, if only by accident. This in turn convinces the advertiser that genuine traffic is being generated to their products.
My Internet visits usually do not extend to thirty seconds, and the time allowed depends on what I can glean of substance from the site on the fly, as well as the level of difficulty I confront in ascertaining it. I dare say I am not the only one annoyed by this sensory overload.
I cannot escape the analogy that the Internet is like Quantum Field Theory, where a subatomic particle, or charge, must be presumed to follow all possible paths in traveling between point A and point B. A particle’s position is determined by probability rather than something that is actually observed or known; and so must be the visitor of a website. A glance is as good as an hour visit, especially where each visitor is marked and followed out of the particle collider by advertisers.
As for the rest of those hits, they must be bombarding Russian bots, which compare to virtual particles in being immaterial but useful. They create the illusion of activity where there is no human intelligence, further propagating (falsely) the idea that Internet commerce, driven by algorithms, is not built on a pyramidal scheme, or inflationary bubble, or some notion other than ghost atoms. Regardless, and like quantum field theory, enough sales are made to justify belief in the system.
The point I wish to make is simply this: Destinations on the Internet are far fewer than you might imagine.
Too many eggs in different baskets: This banner was a favorite creation of mine, but, thinking clearly on it, it might not fly on a mobile phone preview.
Art versus its admirers: The arts divide naturally between creators and community. Most artists, being socially lacking, aspire to a monk-like existence—or at least default to a reliable sanctuary when they want to define themselves in opposition to everything else. The community, by contrast, is attracted to the idea of the creator, although, really, they have little true interest in his or her welfare. Let us not forget that the community of art exists principally to be a community. It is social, so intends, by its meetings and get-togethers, to plan other events that look suspiciously like more meetings and get-togethers. The community loves its own company, especially in settings where art serves as a backdrop, or as something to be discussed in lectures where the attendees can be seen attending.
Neon Boneyard: Original Blender Kitty home page animated gif.
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