There are cooperative arts made by combinations of Marina Greeno-Mcneil, Matt Reynolds, Jesse Blount and myself, Jesse Black. The paper gets folded so that each artist does their bit without having seen the rest of the bits. Marina instigated this whole initiative. Keep it up!
Special thanks to Nikky (art-er) and Danielle (picture-er) Murray for this combination picture-art guest post. Remember: don’t.
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I try to understand her composition;
It’s as if her news came from a different station,
Where the miserable mistakes of man
Dissolve on tongues, like salty ocean air,
Until you spit them out onto the train station floor.
She knows that certain things are never palpable;
That the divinity is always in the search.
The mountains mumble in the evening glow;
The tide rolls in onto the sandy shore;
The sky can barely contain us;
It’s a miracle we ever make it home.
I still stand strong, my brothers,
I still stand here among you, though you have seen me
Fall, be dragged away and skinned alive,
My spirit still survives, the forest thrives,
Sprung forth again, from sorrow.
I still stand strong, my brothers,
Though you watched the donkeys heave,
The axles screech in turn, our wooden fingers burn,
The height at which our lives were earned, the axes cleaved—
We watched the bandits leave, and come again tomorrow.
Was once a tree, my brothers,
Both dignified and lignified, my sun-kissed stride
Reaching to the miracles of heaven.
But now I’m gone, my brothers,
My voice is shattered timber resonance
I still stand strong, my brothers,
In parts, in stranded shards, in hearts
Of living kin, in wincing grin.
I still stand strong, at least
Until they get the rest of us.
“The Sati” is my rendition of the practice of the willful or coerced self-immolation of widowed women in their husbands funeral pyre that used to take place in Hindu society. The practice of sati has been outlawed several times, and yet serves as a reminder of a harsh past for women in the context of a certain kind of Hinduism.
On a lighter note, here is a picture of a windowsill.
Here are three images I almost entirely forgot about until I rediscovered them yesterday night. These were all made on Texada Island, in the fantastic home of An, Oscar and Seneca. In one of the washrooms in this house—the quaint middle-floor one that gets lots of sun—there is a corner with a sketch pad and some art supplies; this ought to be a washroom standard. Allow me to explain why.
Halfway into July, I came down with a gastrointestinal ailment of undetermined origin; I suspect it had something to a dirty water bottle that had been sitting in the sun all day, and with my decision to drink from it after a long and exhausting horseback ride—a decision I will never make again.
In any case, as a result of my delirious state, I was blessed with three full days of nothing but uncomfortable sleep, and long trips to the washroom.
The following three pieces are a result of my washroom art-times, and are not for the faint of heart.
Drawing #1: What is it you hear?
Drawing #2: Untitled, with eyes and bow tie by Seneca :P
Drawing #3: Attempts at a horse
Note my artists’ signature on the last drawing… right next to the horse wearing glasses and a fake mustache.
Questions and concerns will be addressed in short order.
Throughout my time at Fleming college, I have contributed several articles to an independent magazine distributed at the campus. All of the articles are written by students for students. Ontop of contributed botanically inquisitive articles and poetry, I decided to leave a lasting impression on the very last issue to be published by designing a new logo for the cover.
Below is a link to the article that I wrote in the magazine. Since this is art-time and not story-time, I will leave it at your discretion if you would enjoy reading it. It is entitled Outside the Hops and explores the hops plant and it’s relationship with people, examining it’s significance as a medicinal herb, it’s taxonomy and it’s importance within the history of brewing. Page 1 Page 2
Dear members of ArtTimeCollective,
As many of you know, Christmas has never been a part of my family tradition. While I remain open to the concept and welcome holiday festivities, I don’t go out of my way to do anything Christmasy or festive around this time. This year, I find myself spending the evening of the 24th with my art supplies. In the true spirit of the season, I would like to share with you the result of such an evening.
Firstly, we have Skittles the Christmas Skunk. I acknowledge that he is extremely deformed, but implore you to refrain from commenting on his unsightliness. After all, Christmas is about forgiving. It is proof that I am loved, given that my partner went as far as to put it on her Christmas tree. Like all my other needle-felt creations, this distant cousin of Pepé le Pew is fashioned out of Peace Fleece roving wool.
Next, we have the collage-type art, a medium to which I should clearly stick. This particular piece is called Con Sequins, and deals with the repercussions of an advertisement-driven childhood.
Lastly, we have some hand-drawn documentation of the Anti-Santa. When interviewed, all he had to say was YoYoYo.
I wish you all the merriest of Christmases, and a wonderful start to the new year <3
“There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone circling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved” –Charles Darwin
Darwin sees evolution as a non-hierarchical explosion of multi-directional changes and adaptations. I tried to capture the essence of the great man, tending to his idea over the multiple decades he spent developing his theory. The artwork is based on (and incorporates) Darwin’s sketch of his proposed Tree of Life, which in a lot of ways continues to be much more accurate than the forward-facing, teleological depictions of evolution we see today. Darwin’s figure was developed by manipulating various images (a bust of Darwin, a suit, a pair of shoes and a watering can), and the tree (along with its foliage) was drawn on the computer. The top of the tree, wherein speciation is shown, is Darwin’s original image, as are the words “I think,” which I believe, in their scribbled-down context, to be the two most modest words ever written.
Accompanying this image is an essay I recently wrote for my History of Evolution course, which provided inspiration for the direction in which I decided to take this artwork.
Hope to hear your thoughts,