This work is neither, this work is both.

Creative disruptivness.

That what before was merely forbidden, is now utterly impossible.

Reasons to create are noticeable and obvious only because of their absence. A vocation

unquestionable but questioned often.

Have I tuned into an inappropriate muse? I have in mind to create a movie that can read

the audience’s lips. Lacking the media I am limited to silent pictures on walls.

-jahh / Minotaur - there is a shadow of a monster on the front porch  -pg 32

This is theater no one sees. I perform my task, coloring walls with a stream of sweat and consciousness. Or, a river of consciousness. Some days are green. All green. Monochromatic within the subtleness of every corner of that hue. The edges try to creep into blue or spread into  an olivey yellow smear. But I wrangle it, keeping it within the circle of my minds eye. It is a game I play with the chalk color. They have inherent needs to become something that I may not want, and I reserve the choice to let them rule my thumb or keep them under it.

-jahh / Minotaur - there is a shadow of a monster on the front porch  -pg 15

You have to learn the rules of the game.

And then you have to play better than anyone else.

-Albert Einstein

Daring ideas are like chessmen moved forward;

they may be beaten, but they may start a winning game.

-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The dogs are throwing themselves down on the bare floor, rolling their eyes + groaning Lurch-like. Yes, it’s moving time again.

  

Excuse me.

i just popped over from Theme Thursday. And it seems i’ve set a theme and not responded to it. 

Hoping this will suffice. 

Minotaur / plate #20
Seeing clouds as a fingery low moving mask of smoke racing through the deluge of watercourse is where images become the skeleton of a nightmare.

Yes, the water came down during the dark time. I hurried out at first light to check damage or if all had been spared. The lilt of the rain forgave some of the walls leaving them dry, soaking the facing walls and smearing chalk beyond recognition - yet, still interesting. Looking deliberate, softening the drawing into morphic shapes with more possibilities than the original  state. Is  this formed by another? A message shaping up from another pedigree force? Perhaps next rain will work through this smudge to expose an image sharp as arrows. 

Let  smudge be smudge -  just so, I’ll be satisfied with this question, waiting for the chance of an answer.

Drawing leaves behind evidence. 

Some times people like you more.

Some times people like you less.

When you have ghosts you see them everywhere.

Just because something walks behind you doesn't mean it has trouble keeping up.

detail from-
Minotaur: There is a Shadow of a Monster on the Front Porch

plate #27

Much too phobic to have a serene view of death.

in patient / out patience
impatience / out of patience

At some point certain things seem to be important but not interesting.

Identify the myth and eat the shadow.

Minotaur : There is a Shadow of a Monster on the Front Porch

Lunch with Minotaur - repeated here

plate #8

In the past, not having the emotional equipment
to deflect it / it ran through me.
The painted faces accuse and mock but no longer damage. In this particular illusion, the labyrinth turned ware house is set for a late night critique. Painted faces all around and torches everywhere. A nudging voice asks if I brought a sack lunch.
I got that it would be a very long trial.

There is no satisfaction. Only a glorious dissatisfaction. There is no final touch that makes a work perfect. It will always remain perfectly and clearly unfinished. It is that absolute motivation that keeps one moving on.

For the sake of shedding a bit of light on the numbered plates from
Minotaur: There is the Shadow of a Monster on the Front Porch

The Minotaur is used as the device in this work. Mythos’ son is mentally readying himself for the Athenian youths destined on their tribute trek into his home labyrinth to view his art work installation. We find him part victim, part inmate + part monster who will always cast a dark shadow on our psyche - but he is innocent of all these pre judgments. His dreams, hopes + experiments are self chronicled for his light amusement.

Since this is built as a graphic novel, in 37 plates, it stands as it is. This work will seem less random to some of you. It is stream of consciousness, yes, + some free-style association, but not haphazard when read strung along, as it should. Sequential can be a good thing.

Minotaur plate #11

Somewhere...There must be an exchange program for inmates.

How nice.

But I would much rather be a toll taker subject to transfer.

My marvelous pictures would be chalk drawings of Buonarroti masterpieces on the marble sidewalk for loose change. I would not scare the pedestrians. I would not look up.

Prison tattoos - I invented them.

As a pedigree that is obsolete, let me be quoted in saying that shape shifting can be learned if you are willing to chance it.

Make a picture + you expect a somewhat open interpretation. That's what i like in visual art. i like words direct + telescoped into pointed meaning. So the incantation is less questionable. But that rarely happens — unless everyone is using the same dictionary.

One image seen + identified says something so very different than a wordy description. there is a multitude of relationships w/ the visual world. Not trying to pigeon hole, just musing. Everything i just said could be turned on its head, + still sound true, too. Using those limited words i so falter with.

Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.  -Bob Dylan

Jerry often says that Slam Bradley was really the forerunner of Superman, because we turned it out with no restrictions, complete freedom to do what we wanted; the only problem was that we had a deadline.  -Joe Shuster

The ultimate inspiration is the deadline.  -Nolan Bushnell

Pulvis et umbra sumus

plate 6
Punishment is not a great enhancer.

While hibernating dream; I am slowly pacing toward home. It will be dark soon and the road will become obscure and un-navigable. So, I effortlessly ascend into flight as dusk covers the area. I can still make out my winged shadow on the ground far below. I am limited in the air - I ascend higher reckoning faster flight, but my back feathers scrape against the sky Elysian. Shadows blend with the dark in time lapse.

I see a suggestion of the stone entrance. I know it is time to descend.

I tip, dipping down smoothly and with grace hit the ground running. Vaguely, I make out the gate ahead is closed. Not having the velocity to vault it, I stumble, crash over the key stone, tumbling and crumpling into the dirt.

I curse my luck at not dropping one gate later.

-from the forthcoming- Minotaur; There is a Shadow of a Monster on the Front Porch.














If he thought at all, but I don’t believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought together near each other, would join like drops of water; and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that too failed. A shudder passed through Peter, and he sat down and cryed. -Sir J.M. Barrie

Not bragging or complaining, but there is a dissatisfied curse in the artist aesthetic.

Not ever being content w/ a healthy walk, or hearing a proper musical, we educe the snare of inspiration. Whatever the medium used, it’s all the up-constant + continuing retelling of the thing. The creative spirit keeps us going, questioning our steps, keeping us grounded in the dirt, trudging along.

Floating memory of walking past a pile of fish heads in the lower east side. Some how you knew if you gazed too long the image would burn into your psyche and resurface as a nightmare....

What might it become after it is internalized, digested and reinterpreted? Did it become the skeleton of that horrific bricolage of painted napkins, metal springs + severed doll hands? Did it become your to-do list? Did it become the color lipstick you picked out this morning? Does it have any resemblance to naturalistic form, or, jumped to stylized representation? Nay, transformed into the oblivion of pure abstraction? (Ha! What does art do?) Did it go in as the classical phase + come out Baroque?

What Mannerism do we go from Baroque? Enter the fall of Rome + the ensuing Phoenix.

....The most picayune memory will be carried through a lifetime to be relived in a flash as the unexpected reflection slaps us while we plant this years tomatoes.

If you can imagine yourself driving south while you’re driving north on the east coast, you’ll feel as though you’re driving south on the west. 

Rest on that.

If I knew what art was, I wouldn’t tell you.  -Picasso (figures)