Archive for the ‘Media’ Category


Living in lies by the railway line
Pushing the hair from my eyes
Elvis is English and climbs the hills
Can’t tell the bullshit from the lies

Screaming along in South London
Vicious but ready to learn
Sometimes I fear that the whole world is queer
Sometimes but always in vain

So I’ll wait until we’re sane
Wait until we’re blessed and all the same
Full of blood, loving life and all it’s got to give
Englishmen going insane

Down on my knees in Suburbia
Down on myself in every way

With great expectations I change all my clothes
Mustn’t grumble at silver and gold
Screaming above Central London
Never bored, so I’ll never get old

So I’ll wait until we’re sane
Wait until we’re blessed and all the same
Full of blood, loving life and all it’s got to give
Englishmen going insane

Down on my knees in suburbia
Down on myself in every way

Day after, day after day, day after
Zane, Zane, Zane, Ouvre le chien
Day after day, day after
Zane, Zane, Zane, Ouvre le chien
Day after

Songwriters
DAVID BOWIE

Published by
Lyrics © TINTORETTO MUSIC


We all of us cling to the truth as we construct it, and we resist alternatives that challenge the construction.”

Daniel Finklestein
Published in The Times 12.01am July 9 2014
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/opinion/columnists/article4142361.ece


My friend & neighbours jam caught the eye as bubbles give a sense of motion until frozen or jellied in a jam! The light & colour flashed in the eye.

My friend & neighbours jam caught the eye
as bubbles give a sense of motion until frozen or jellied in a jam! The light & colour flashed in the eye.


echoed images

echoed images

guessing, not googling or binging, after all theorising is more interesting than the expert where art is concerned. – that the images created upon the impaled ship’s planks or driftwood on the promenade of Weston-Super-Mare were suggested by an artist to point out, direct your gaze to, the islands in the Bristol Channel? Or perhaps they are ancient defence forts as in the Solent off Portsmouth. Almost saying, there, look, see? Literally laying down a marker more impressive than any big arrow or a g.p.s. voice.


Sometimes I wonder how much they really know? What is going on inside those tiny heads? You know, those little people who rush around with their skull deep between their shoulders staring at their feet with their thumbs jittering and chattering as if they spent a life picking tea leaves or getting the right bolt in the right hole before the thing, they don’t even know they are manufacturing, has moved down the line.

530Coolpix-00001

They bump into people, lampposts or post boxes, like little automatons, reminding me of a black and white documentary, so must have been a long time ago, of tiny little robots scuttling around so that scientists could convince themselves they were learning, the robots that is, that they were learning by rushing around like tiny spiders and colliding with walls or each other. The occasional object placed in their way to prove a heavily worked mathematical or statistical point. That through the experience of obstacles their tiny brains would learn at least some environmental behaviour.

Since silicone has become so expensive only the super-rich can afford any form of communications device which for years using simple laser surgery, have been placed within the ear, and even that is old fashioned as one company is actually growing comms into the shell of the ear itself. But who would have known that the repetitive behaviour of about ten decades would be so ingrained, the greys even step off walkways or pavements into traffic, are flattened by those lorries that carry about 20 containers, literally flattened, “pancaked” one old fella said. I must ask him what pancakes are? Cakes made in a pan perhaps? Anyhow, little grey people dying or badly injured, ghoulishly scuttling around, probably never even seeing the sky! And those nasty twitching digits. The old man said they all think they are playing a game, well, all I can say is I am glad I wasn’t born in a time when THAT was considered fun!

…flying to wuc

Posted: July 11, 2012 in Media, Photographs, Ramblings
Tags:

RedTrialsnet

…… and her surreal word imagery also pulling in strands of popular culture to anchor reality, so we have something to grasp if not on the same, dare I ? wave length? If you have not found her dream state yet, do listen to the pictures painted with widescreen aroma by the “wuc”.  I took this photograph for you wuc, to assist with the therapy I ruined, as am sorry, pleeease forgive me fellow blogger.


Something that the now wide open door of communication leaves embedded are small carbon diamonds of connection beyond the everyday, impromptu, binary silicon handshakes. Our synapse log information, wanted or not.

Friends are found through intertwined threads forming the net. A subjective passage through idealistic spaces, not requiring the normally necessary unselfish tolerance of human faults or habits – for one may simply pull the plug and as eddies of bathwater, hours of contact conversation and enrichment spiral, swirl and vanish.

Stay inside your avatar shell. After hours of appreciation, interest and giving of ones golden self from within this untouchable wire cage, unless you are of stainless steel and can put reality aside. But most attachments remain as stains or delightful dye, which is so difficult to untie.

One is intoxicated with invoked, incomparable instances of incredible imagery, instigated initially by interaction with the internet. This is not a mere peripheral sighting. The woven web envelopes and is inclusive for those with the luxury of the fourth dimension – Time.

So is the web in place of: the lion slaying gladiator, the field or court sportsperson, the entertainer, the modern freak show? Even the culture of personality created by the unreal reality show? Even the writing and theatre of dissent all to keep the mob busy and quiet?

Then all this interconnection backfired and booted up the disorder .ini(tiation) file, on the streets of London and assisted spring rebellions. “Why”? asked a reporter of a London teenage girl “because they can”, she replied.


“I have this new phone, will you help me with it, because you are so smart”.

Smart huh? Long time since I have been called that. The phone race has replaced the Space Race! I have a deep like of clever design which falls naturally out of the barrel of my education, but have never been sucked into Apple’s plan to take over the world. No iPlayer or iPhone-like appliances in MY possession. Their design objective in relation to marketing of product is "come up with something new", to create "gadget want" to leave our existence somehow wanting, you MUST keep up with the crowd, – “but darling the Jones’s have got one”!

I still have a flip-open Motorola Razr (a Star Trek reality) that sits comfortably in my jean back pocket. I just want a phone for emergencies with a calendar that plays a jazz tune when I should go to next appointment or post a birthday card. Texting is the only advantage the mobile phone brought, so I can send a kiss to my beloved every time United score. It’s currency converter says I pay  $11 or 7 quid aPrint month for it and its enough !

EVEN Motorola is chasing and sent me this link in an email recently despite asking them not to update me on products – grrrrr, Yeah but is it ME proof? They too must stay in the race despite the functional, hand-size, comfortable, communications interface still working perfectly they have already provided. Sometimes perfection in relation to function can peak out ! In the future I will not be able to replace my phone with an identical one because they will “not be making them any more”.

“pleeeease beam me up Scottie”

dwk


…..one of the most important tools of visualisation is drawing.

I am not concerned that nurseries are not introducing children to hand and finger manipulation to express themselves, or the knowledge and understanding of colours and the tactile media they are presented with. Most importantly, of course, their hand/mind co-ordination, necessary for the lightest or  firmest of grip to touch, hold and lift anything for the next potential sixty plus years. Rather the drawing skills among ten year olds onward are vanishing, technical drawings by hand almost unheard of. Even drawing to domestic screens with stylus is rare.

I am worried that the ability to imagine a three dimensional object stereoscopically in one’s minds eye then rotate it, take it to pieces, modulate it and even mutate it to a functional object mentally, is lost to most. Now the ‘creative’ child or teenager is becoming dependant on the machine visualising for them. The best ideas really were scribbled on napkins or envelopes. I am writing this now, on paper before transferring it through the keyboard, even that is rapidly being pursued by the audio command and dictation software writer.

At 11 years old, I started several years of technical drawing (T.D.) and art classes beside the basics. Performing tasks which are now instant at the touch of a key or stylus or more difficultly by a computer mouse. I was lucky desk top publishing software was on the market when I graduated as a Graphic Designer, so witnessed the process of change from both sides, the old and the new. The ability to visualise three dimensionally is a skill used by all, most importantly when driving, thinking about the length of your vehicle within a tight space particularly. I am most worried that the ability to draw and express oneself, even if it is only to stave off boredom, will be lost. I am assured, for instance, that cartoons and comics will never vanish, but already the uniformity of computer line drawing, filling in and the grading of colour and texture because of the way pixels interlace is producing a similarity that defeats individual talent and identity.

Getting hands on the control interface and the 2D screen is leaving pencils and pens redundant when not only the ability but the pleasure to realise a potential idea and note it for further use or even rush it to the drawing board or screen is being sapped away by the latter. I have a good mind to photograph this page for my blog!

I am stuck with the habit of writing in capital letters, because it is fast for me. It happened because I was taught and advised to write all printer’s instructions this way so there were no disputable misunderstandings. So that if 10,000 copies were printed in the wrong colour after client’s proofed work, a printer could forget about invoicing me. I have read recently of illegible handwriting by those leaving school with only keyboard skills.

This pen is slipping and sliding a little on this glossy paper because I am recycling an old book as a memo pad. It was a book design mock-up, which had to be a centimetre thick. Can you imagine a text instruction from a mobile phone to a professional printer defining the weight and texture of the paper to be used let alone the colour mark-ups, resulting in every poster in a country announcing the name of a famous company, misspelt and logotype in the wrong colour? That is the other potential of drawing or writing in these penstrokes (the spellcheck can’t find penstrokes incidentally)! My scrawl gives up its mistakes faster than something that is not in a database and therefore paradoxically hiding, beautifully displayed in a uniform tidy typeface but wrong. My hand writing is a form of drawing remember, and its personalised, unique.

Philosophers such as George Berkeley and David Hume, and early experimental psychologists such as Wilhelm Wundt and William James, understood ideas in general to be mental images, and today it is very widely believed that much imagery functions as mental representations (or mental models), playing an important role in memory and thinking. Some have gone so far as to suggest that images are best understood to be, by definition, a form of inner, mental or neural representation. In the case of hypnagogic and hypnapompic imagery, it is not representational at all. Others reject the view that the image experience may be identical with (or directly caused by) any such representation in the mind or the brain, but do not take account of the non-representational forms of imagery.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_image


sniff, jog, run, sprint, race, ….. dig dirt, throw it around, mark virgin walls, desperate for volume, but note how filth slides off that non-stick, anonymous glass. Then claim looking for gold, in the slurry, those tiny glints of truth pushed aside by the odd self-absorbing obsessions of the day. That 5 second blink of headline. ……… I look up from my ranting and there is the face ejected from some ‘house’ the night before, a 5 minute superstar for failing. I don’t want to know, in my mute button hammering desperation, I don’t want to know ! What this is or thinks. But I notice how carefully prepared, made over, made up for the studio oven. This dressed up plain person is the moment. Treated like a globe winning deserving non-success. Shortcomings now grab our sec-span attention? The soon throwaway, vanishing, disappearing to be sucked clean of any possible pixel glitter before deletion. A 2-dimensional nutrient for flabby imaginations, dumbed-down, quiet, controlled.

We can’t wait to smell the next pervasive stain.


 

As I am epileptic and a Graphic Designer and know all about MRI (magnetic resonance imaging)scans, believe me I have traveled 100’s of miles for the privilege to be inside one of these things so that someone could try and determine what was wrong with my grey matter. I had to blog this. I could not justifiably edit article, so here it is in full. The copyright of course belongs only to the Times Newspaper and Angela Palmer, if you can go to her exhibition please do and if not then please visit her website, its worth it, the link is below.
BRIDGING THE GAP BETWEEN ART AND REALITY
Angela Palmer’s first scientific inspiration came from viewing the Nobel prize-winner Dorothy Hodgkin’s model of penicillin at the History of Science Museum, in Oxford. Struck by how such a simple object – made from Perspex – could demonstrate such a complex subject, Palmer vowed to put a similar design principle to work in her art.
She was studying at the Ruskin School of Drawing and Fine Art in Oxford and soon had the chance to draw the corpses in the dissection rooms. Her interest in human anatomy led her to contact Stephen Golding, the head of radiology at the John Radcliffe Hospital, where she had a series of full-body MRI scans to look deeper at the human body.
Palmer layers images from MRI scans to produce a human “topography” of the body. The resulting ethereal etchings focus on the internal architecture of the body. “When you’re looking at a scan of me,” she says, “you could be looking at anybody and that’s what’s interesting. I didn’t want to distort my MRI portraits in any way. I wanted to be completely true to the scanner.”

head-226x300

 

Palmer, who was an award-winning journalist before she becoming a full-time artist, has a number of projects on the go, including one working with scientists and archaeologists to “uncover” an Egyptian child mummy through CT scans. Palmer, who completes her postgraduate degree at the Royal College of Art this year, says: “It enables us to recreate this child without disturbing him.”
Dr Chris Avery, an academic radiographer at John Radcliffe Hospital, worked with Palmer on the MRI sequences. He says: “This crossover between art and reality bridges the gap between science and art, making it more real to people.” He adds that it’s “rewarding to see your work transformed into another medium. It’s the finest accolade that your work is good enough to form the basis of something else”.
The MRI portraits will be at the Royal College of Medicine, London, from October 2007.
Go to Angela Palmer’s website 
http://angelaspalmer.com/