2012

Here we are, 2009, talking about Hope and Change and the Future as a futuristic thing, while lurking in the wings of this performance are zombies and horsemen and police on every block---the four flying cars of the apocalypse, the fear that our race will never advance past fear based psychological cannibalism. that, for whatever reason, our breakneck speed of intellectual development will end before it has even begun----a blip on the screen---I minor irritation on the earths surface, shrugged off into the rapture of extinction.
And here is the question it begs, the part that has me worried, Who makes the future? Dreamers? Politicians? Bibles? Stars? No doubt shots are being called and intentions are plucking the strings on the web of our collective unconscious, but who is making the call? What future will win? Rocker-fellers? Nostradamus'? Huxley's? Mine?
If we pause for a moment and pretend that the present is actually the present and our history is relatively true, I think we can agree that not much has changed. Sure, there's faster communication and different styles of clothing, but there's always been some powerful, untouchable, leader that the rest of us are forced to work for and obey. there has always been patriarchy, always war, always always enslavement for as long as our basic education has provided us knowing. The repetition bores me in the same fashion television does, and I, for one, hesitate to call this progress. if our technology, in all it's glory, only manages to allow us to do the same unimaginative work we've been doing faster and with less leisure time, then it's hardly advancement. I suppose a zombie attack would be a nice change of pace, for the history books.
So, how much future do we have left, exactly? the Mayans, and Nostradamus, and the Hopi, and ancient Egypt, give us another 3 years. Funny we'd be so close to the end (providing this is the actual present and not a mere loop of quantum energy occurring simultaneously with other moments of "Past" and "future"), and we've only just discovered the technology to provide everyone with a house, and food, and everything we need to take a break from all this working. We could burn down the federal reserve today and have all the technology we need to have an abundance of gifts and goodies and great parties.
There's also Peter Joseph and other astronomers that take us back into the stars (the beginning of the beginning---the first day of creation) and tells us that rotations around the sun, combined with the chaotic weeble-wobble of our axis, eventually rights itself into astrological ages, and a new age is being born 2150, the Age of Aquarius, of which we are on the cusp with pisces. I don't know many pisces, but if they are anything like this age we are living in, I can see why I'm not attracted to the type. But then, Aquaria's, from what I've been told, are ultra feminine, very structured, and have the largest collection of underwear of any other sign. Im not sure if this is an improvement.
And then, of course, Armageddon, which I find the least plausible, yet has the backing of millions of believers and even skeptical christian raised non-believers imbuing the prophecy with life, like the Golem, it becomes something out of faith alone. Our dormant subconscious bubbling and brewing signals fueled by fear--a very powerful form of mind control---even stronger than television. And what's worse! its a destiny centuries in the making; the dying vision of all fundamentalists to be proven right, and all the faithful given that elusive sign, the proof, that generations of repression actually mean something.
But I, too, have a vision of the future, and I know I didn't come up with it on my own. Its a vision that keeps underground, afraid of being trampled by the clumsy clogs of cynicism, or poisoned by political pesticides. Its a vision as old as Jesus. As old as stories, and magic, and wisdom, and intention. A vision that we might, someday, realize that we are all one. that when one suffers, we all suffer. And also that of evolution. That intention physically opens doors. That closing your eyes and pointing has more perception than eyes wide open. We've been burning witches for so long now that this vision has to remain quiet until we are ready for it.
So, who writes the future? Which side will win? Who has the most legos? Or is destiny an even bigger concept we aren't smart enough to grasp? Perhaps we should make room for a gander species, like the dinosaurs did for us. The Gods shall vacation here and amuse themselves by animating our bones and inventing stories about history. Or will it be more and more of the same?
2012, it's the End Times based on stars and planets alone, telling stories of wars and famine and antichrists and the end of calendars and predictions. Is this destiny? 3 years is not a lot of time for a bucket list at 28, tho I can't say I'll miss the capitalism, or suburbs, or E! entertainment, or cubicles, or blood diamonds, or hollywood, or marketing, or concrete, or stock yards....
But I will miss not having my vision. Truly, I was looking forward to that.

Watercolor thoughts

The blue penetrates all colors. Just a light drop takes any puddle two shades darker. You have to be careful, because after the pthalo blue you'll never get that brilliance back.
I default on Yellow mostly, it's easy enough to change and light enough to forget. It's best if you are not sure about what color's to use but already have the shape, otherwise you can't see it, can't see the brushstrokes. Sometimes I let my hand move till I see a shape. Red is good for that. Like blood making a life form. Catch yourself early to not make a blood wash, but that first ribbon of watery red is like a cut into the canvas opening possibilities.
I don't use green so much, it doesn't strike me as a particularly dynamic color, unless it was a green girl, perhaps, those are pretty. She's prettiest when she's opposite the color she's supposed to be. Green fairy girls with perfect breasts and playful poses--but then, that's not art. It's art if she looks sad, kinda, or serious, even though she's green. But not too green, no, you would definitely need to add some blue. Some shadows. Or at least some absurdity, like a bird with human arms, or gears floating haphazardly around her. Something to emulate the absurdness of her strange, darkened, beauty.
I really like orange, I gotta say, that color never lets me down. When you don't want reds drama or yellows plainness. It builds and brightens all colors around it, giving life to even the most neutral settings without drawing attention to itself. You can make it brilliant as the sun, or dull as filth, or gentle as meadows, or aggressive as neon lights. When I think of one solid color that I could stare at for days, like a Bing cherry stain, I would never pick orange, but I've never made a painting I liked that didn't have orange as a main ingredient. Like garlic. Actually, garlic, onions, and butter, orange is all three makin my mouth water.
Purple I use the least. She's a very powerful color and she gets away from me. Too dark yet too bright. Too feminine. Too loud. Too playful. Like the green, she needs to be subdued, wrapped in cold blue and taken to the depths of the ocean or the infinite universe. Only small doses. Or let her be the center of attention, have everything in the piece be about that one purple something, but that opportunity doesn't seem to arrive very often. When it does I get excited. Maybe it's a girl thing, but it makes me happy when purple becomes a good idea. I use it less often than gold, of all colors. I use gold all the time, and it never really works, but I can't help myself, I love that shiny metallic possibility. I keep throwing it in hoping one day I'll hit the stylized mine that requires gold every time. I'm still looking. Maybe more blue. That's the best thing about blue, it drowns everything. Lost in that cold primary tone, the yin, the mystery, washing everything away. You have to be careful.