In the Bleak Midwinter
In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago.
...lotsa snow... Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 07, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Opportunity Lost/ Lost Opportunity
The first way sounds more poetic than the second.
Art musing: artists are supposed to have the soul of a poet. Hmmm. THE BOY STOOD ON THE BURNING DECK!!! Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled -
Posted by Philip Northover at 6:24 AM
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Monday, September 07, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Move Along, Nothing to See Here
There's something about insubstantial art that invites the viewer to fill in the blanks. In my case, I fill them in with, "Why am I trying to envision what the art is supposed to be?! Isn't that what the artist is supposed to be doing for me?!" Haha, yes, I've been had again. The other one is supplying Chopsticks instead of a piano concerto. So there's another part of the art riddle for you: art ... is in ... the arrangement!
(but, but, but, ... I like Chopsticks! Well, Liberace's arrangement of it anyway...)
Posted by Philip Northover at 10:30 AM
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Communing with the Spirits
Ambient music is good for that. Listening to the muses. Music. Amusing. The Muse. Spirits.
My favourite amusing lyrics from pop music:
"Nothing came easy, nothing came free, nothing came at all until they... came after me!" - hmmm, then something came alright.
"What I choose... is my choice!" - haha, for a moment there, I thought I was actually getting something - Oh, I dunno, a pearl of wisdom, or something like that.
In a sense, when you appreciate the work of artists and composers who have passed away, you are communing with their spirits.
(lyrics from Alice Cooper and, I think, Smashing Pumpkins respectively)
Posted by Philip Northover at 7:49 AM
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Robert Johnson went down to the crossroads to get the magic pick. Wally Wood wanted the magic pencil. I'd like the magic - uh, whatever it is that makes fractals... uh, formula? Yeah, the magic formula... that old black magic, has got me under its skin. Hey, that didn't come out right!
Posted by Philip Northover at 6:07 AM
Friday, May 22, 2009
I've often thought Religious Philosophy's "Problem of Evil" is just another way of saying "it's a fallen world", a point conceded very early on in most holy writings. We were kicked out of heaven. Are fractals heaven? In a way, yes. So what are fractals doing here?!
Posted by Philip Northover at 1:03 PM
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Workers of the world unite! I heard a story the other day of workers in a factory in France holding managers hostage who had come to tell them they were laid off. I think someone missed the point somewhere. I don't know how it was finally resolved.
Speaking of France, I believe "mayday!", the distress call, is derived from the french, "m'aider!", meaning "help me!"
I think May Day, the workers day, is actually May 1, so I should have posted this fractal then.
Posted by Philip Northover at 1:59 PM
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Was watching a special on the prohibition. The ladies of the Women's Christian Temperance Union did have a point. There were cases where the breadwinner would come home having drunk up the pay leaving nothing for the dependents, and then take it out on their hides.
Posted by Philip Northover at 12:22 PM
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Walking on the Beach
You know when you get the wet sand between your toes, yeah, and look out to the sky, think of the universe beyond, think of the world below the waves, sunken wrecks, sharks, then be so glad to feel the sun's warmth going right through ya...
Does anybody really know what time it is? Uh, 25 or 6 to four, man. As I was walking down the street, er, beach, one day...
Posted by Philip Northover at 11:16 AM
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday, March 02, 2009
Where the Truth Lies
A very fine Internet crank passed away the other day. John "Birdman" Bryant. His website has some pithy observations about truth in the abstract. However, when he applied them to certain subjects... watch out. Not for the easily offended. And yes, my ox got gored too upon occasion.
I was run over by the truth one day
Ever since the accident I've walked this way
- opening lines to Adrian Mitchell's poem, To Whom it May Concern. A counterculture classic from the counterculture decade. From time to time, YouTube has a clip of him reciting it in the Albert Hall. Very groovy, to borrow a phrase of the day. Adrian Mitchell passed away last December.
Posted by Philip Northover at 7:28 AM
Monday, February 23, 2009
Not Operation Desert Storm, just a desert storm. Was the first operation desert storm really almost 20 years ago? How time flies. Saddam has met his Allah. The rout of all that old Soviet supplied hardware contributed to the collapse of the USSR. The cold war met its end... in the desert, you could say. There's some irony for you. Hey, I should have saved this fracky for Remembrance Day. Whoops!
Posted by Philip Northover at 8:23 AM
Thursday, February 05, 2009
That? Yes, actually. "What is Art?" I don't believe there's a definition that can sum it up in one sentence. Rather, we have bits and pieces. Is a beautiful sunset art? Is craftsmanship art? Art is Italian for skill. Art is whatever an artist says it is. Which begs the question. Please, question, pretty please!
The tale is as old as the Eden Tree, and new as the new-cut tooth
For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows, he is master of Art and Truth;
And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart,
The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art ?"
- excerpt from The Conundrum of the Workshops, by Rudyard Kipling, 1890
I wont give away his punchline, but I'm sure you can use Google to find the poem and read it for yourself. If I didn't know better, I'd say Rudyard was being very sly. What do you think the title of the poem refers to?
Posted by Philip Northover at 10:09 AM