I have finally moved to my new place. School is about to start and my first day mainly consisted of errands. It is an odd feeling to be part of a new city, trying to create a home out of the new surrounding environment. None of my friends are around, so the days feel as if they run on forever.
I got my room set up the way I like it. There is a shelf full of books, CD’s, movies, and other things, placed against my far wall. My guitars and amplifier, completed with an electric drum set, so that I am still able to gain inspiration from playing music. I wish I could have brought my acoustic drum set, but it would be useless with the little spare room that I have, and the neighbour would probably get angry, since it is a duplex.
It’s been nice, having a week off of work before school starts to try and adjust. I went grocery shopping for myself yesterday, buying whatever I thought I’d need for the week while trying to maintain a budget. I’ve managed to save an alright amount for this coming school year, but I’m going to have to pinch and be careful to make finances work out.
My mind is in an odd place these days, trying to accept my new life away from home, depending only on myself. It’s nice, but some things I miss, like being able to eat anything I want from the cupboards that are always packed. This week is probably making things harder, because every day I am searching for ways to spend my time. I am excited to enter the campus life for another year and let the chaos begin.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Evolution of Art
Throughout history reflections of art have been produced, creating a unique expression of time and place. Art was created as a social expression, creating an artistic flow an authenticity of both the artist and the social situations involved in the creation. The aesthetic value of what is considered art is not valued as perfection, rather a social value that is added to the product. This social value is not applied materially, rather with authenticity of the presence and time it represents.
Early forms of art started with engravings in wood or stone, such as expressional carvings created by early Etruscans in catacombs or tombs. These engravings created an expression of the culture, the way of life, and the feelings associated with the culture. These creations are unique in their dating and authenticity as a product of time. These engravings could not be replicated and each engraving is one of a kind which creates a sense of authenticity.
Other examples are paintings that were created in cathedrals, which were only available to people only if they had the opportunity to enter the buildings where they were created. Early paintings represented the beliefs and attitudes as well as the artist’s expression which was one of a kind. Reproductions could not be created which added a sense value that could not be replicated anywhere else. Paintings and portraits only existed in the hands of the wealthy or on the walls of churches and it was thought to be a social status to obtain such items.
Today, the world of art has been taken over by reproducible objects and images with inventions such as photography. Photos and self portraits can be owned by nearly anyone of any social class due to the easy reproduction of photos and images. A painting can be copied, capturing every detail to perfection, so that it is no different from the original. The distribution of these images makes these images common, lowering the aesthetic value of the image and creating a unique cultural distribution of art.
Art is created and seen by nearly everyone, no matter what class they are part of. For example, the Mona Lisa painting has been redistributed nearly everywhere with duplications, internet images, and even t-shirt print screens. It is not just the wealthy that are privileged enough to witness the work.
The artist Michael Godard is a well known artist with his creation of life-like olive paintings. His paintings have been distributed and marketed all over the place with painting replications, web images, posters, and many other sources. Due to replication advances, anyone has the ability to witness these images, making the value decrease. Although each particular image is sold cheaply, the distribution and mass production creates new techniques for marketing of these objects.
Although these images can be seen nearly everywhere, there is still added value to authenticity that is exploited. While looking through the paintings at the mall, they had an entire store full of replicas of famous paintings. You could not tell the difference, other than the fact that each one would be worth allot more than it was priced if it was an original.
I asked the store owner if she had any originals, just out of curiosity and she showed me a painting by Michael Godard that he had painted in the store when he had made a guest appearance. The painting looked like a child’s finger painting with no talent to it. It was an olive with some splashed colours, but it was priced ten times higher than any other painting in the store. I studied it, trying to imagine who would actually buy it. Although it was the worst piece of art in the entire store, it was considered authentic because it was one of a kind.
Early forms of art started with engravings in wood or stone, such as expressional carvings created by early Etruscans in catacombs or tombs. These engravings created an expression of the culture, the way of life, and the feelings associated with the culture. These creations are unique in their dating and authenticity as a product of time. These engravings could not be replicated and each engraving is one of a kind which creates a sense of authenticity.
Other examples are paintings that were created in cathedrals, which were only available to people only if they had the opportunity to enter the buildings where they were created. Early paintings represented the beliefs and attitudes as well as the artist’s expression which was one of a kind. Reproductions could not be created which added a sense value that could not be replicated anywhere else. Paintings and portraits only existed in the hands of the wealthy or on the walls of churches and it was thought to be a social status to obtain such items.
Today, the world of art has been taken over by reproducible objects and images with inventions such as photography. Photos and self portraits can be owned by nearly anyone of any social class due to the easy reproduction of photos and images. A painting can be copied, capturing every detail to perfection, so that it is no different from the original. The distribution of these images makes these images common, lowering the aesthetic value of the image and creating a unique cultural distribution of art.
Art is created and seen by nearly everyone, no matter what class they are part of. For example, the Mona Lisa painting has been redistributed nearly everywhere with duplications, internet images, and even t-shirt print screens. It is not just the wealthy that are privileged enough to witness the work.
The artist Michael Godard is a well known artist with his creation of life-like olive paintings. His paintings have been distributed and marketed all over the place with painting replications, web images, posters, and many other sources. Due to replication advances, anyone has the ability to witness these images, making the value decrease. Although each particular image is sold cheaply, the distribution and mass production creates new techniques for marketing of these objects.
Although these images can be seen nearly everywhere, there is still added value to authenticity that is exploited. While looking through the paintings at the mall, they had an entire store full of replicas of famous paintings. You could not tell the difference, other than the fact that each one would be worth allot more than it was priced if it was an original.
I asked the store owner if she had any originals, just out of curiosity and she showed me a painting by Michael Godard that he had painted in the store when he had made a guest appearance. The painting looked like a child’s finger painting with no talent to it. It was an olive with some splashed colours, but it was priced ten times higher than any other painting in the store. I studied it, trying to imagine who would actually buy it. Although it was the worst piece of art in the entire store, it was considered authentic because it was one of a kind.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Daily Expressions
Looking around, I am constantly drowned by emotions with the art that exists in every bit of space. Taking in the constant evolution of humans and their need to express is what makes the world a beautiful place. I feel that being trapped in a human body leaves our expression limited. We are all searching for a means of expression and that is the reason that we all incorporate art into everything that we do. Art is all around us, in architecture, music, language, photography, and media; the list is endless.
While working a summer job mowing lawns for the Town of Sylvan Lake, I managed to turn my experience into a form of art. It became a process of strategy, technique, and intricate line work, while I tried to turn every piece of grass into something beautiful. Although it was just grass, I feel that it is within human nature to strive for expression in every task.
Starting with music, I turned the guitar into an expression of feeling, playing with bands, trying to communicate myself within the boundaries of my instrument. It has always been a passion, an obsession even, to search for the art forms that exist. Starting with the art of guitar, I was motivated by music, and the obsession of expression consumed me.
My journey took me to the University of Calgary where I am about to enter my third year of studies working towards a Bachelors Degree. Majoring in English, I hoped to be able to express myself to the world, giving people inspiration, emotion, and a sense of belonging.
After reading many books and being blown away and finding myself disappointed with the movies made from them, I’ve come to love the impact of the English language. It is not just speaking, words, or images of experiences; rather it is someone’s emotions, inspirations, life, and expressions being shared, in the form of word. It is almost as if their mind has pasted itself onto a piece of paper, sharing every bit of the experience down to the thoughts, desires, and emotions.
While working a summer job mowing lawns for the Town of Sylvan Lake, I managed to turn my experience into a form of art. It became a process of strategy, technique, and intricate line work, while I tried to turn every piece of grass into something beautiful. Although it was just grass, I feel that it is within human nature to strive for expression in every task.
Starting with music, I turned the guitar into an expression of feeling, playing with bands, trying to communicate myself within the boundaries of my instrument. It has always been a passion, an obsession even, to search for the art forms that exist. Starting with the art of guitar, I was motivated by music, and the obsession of expression consumed me.
My journey took me to the University of Calgary where I am about to enter my third year of studies working towards a Bachelors Degree. Majoring in English, I hoped to be able to express myself to the world, giving people inspiration, emotion, and a sense of belonging.
After reading many books and being blown away and finding myself disappointed with the movies made from them, I’ve come to love the impact of the English language. It is not just speaking, words, or images of experiences; rather it is someone’s emotions, inspirations, life, and expressions being shared, in the form of word. It is almost as if their mind has pasted itself onto a piece of paper, sharing every bit of the experience down to the thoughts, desires, and emotions.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday Adventure
Trying to find a good way to spend a Saturday night, my girlfriend and I got a case of beer to share. We attempted to find friends to come over for a fire and BBQ, but we waited too long to invite people and everyone was already busy. We sat at home and watched “Hot Tub Time Machine” and drank our beer.
The movie was great. By the time it was over, we were both pleasantly buzzed. Our next move was The Vat, which is only about three blocks away. We walked with a drink for the road and made it to the door. We made it just in time to watch a band play some Jimmy Hendrix covers with intense enthusiasm. It was hard to not enjoy the atmosphere of the pub, while the guitarist of the band played wildly, thrashing on his strings. He even ended his set by soloing with his teeth.
After watching the bands set, we decided to head back. On the way home we howled at the moon like wolves. We stumbled, holding each other, laughed, and made it home safely. It wasn’t the night we had planned, but it was excellent anyway.
The movie was great. By the time it was over, we were both pleasantly buzzed. Our next move was The Vat, which is only about three blocks away. We walked with a drink for the road and made it to the door. We made it just in time to watch a band play some Jimmy Hendrix covers with intense enthusiasm. It was hard to not enjoy the atmosphere of the pub, while the guitarist of the band played wildly, thrashing on his strings. He even ended his set by soloing with his teeth.
After watching the bands set, we decided to head back. On the way home we howled at the moon like wolves. We stumbled, holding each other, laughed, and made it home safely. It wasn’t the night we had planned, but it was excellent anyway.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
All is a Stage
Life is a stage and everybody knows it. In every situation things change, our way of acting adjusts to fit the social needs at the time. It is the people who cannot act within the boundaries of the groups they associate with that never end up with social skills.
People fascinate me. The way they act, speak, form groups, friends, make decisions, it all just seems so animalistic. We are animals trying to suppress our animal traits; we are holding back our true selves.
Every situation, it starts to feel exhausting, changing your image, acts, and way of speech, to try to make the situation as beneficial as it can be. It is like hiding behind a mask, but without acting, life would not run smooth. Trying to get by with grades, impressing teachers with topics you think they will enjoy, rather than giving them a full true expression. When it’s work time my image changes to a hard motivated worker. It gets me by in a workplace that has more drama than an episode of the OC.
What about friends? You don’t act like you would to your boss as you would towards your friends and it’s vice versa with your boss.
Trying to comprehend what must be going on in someone else’s head is useless, yet I always try. Judging actions, facial expressions, word choices, I give my full reading of what I think the person is all about. The fact of it all is that I will never come close to comprehension because this person’s knowledge, thought and consciousness are completely hidden from me, besides the expressions of the physical body. Just like me, this person is also an actor, hiding himself.
Lately I’ve felt lost in the art of acting. I feel that I am damn good at it and can use it most definitely to my advantage, but I need to express myself truly. It’s a weird thing to feel like you’re trapped in your own mind, unable to fully express yourself. With all the acting that we do in a day, how do any of us know who we really are?
People fascinate me. The way they act, speak, form groups, friends, make decisions, it all just seems so animalistic. We are animals trying to suppress our animal traits; we are holding back our true selves.
Every situation, it starts to feel exhausting, changing your image, acts, and way of speech, to try to make the situation as beneficial as it can be. It is like hiding behind a mask, but without acting, life would not run smooth. Trying to get by with grades, impressing teachers with topics you think they will enjoy, rather than giving them a full true expression. When it’s work time my image changes to a hard motivated worker. It gets me by in a workplace that has more drama than an episode of the OC.
What about friends? You don’t act like you would to your boss as you would towards your friends and it’s vice versa with your boss.
Trying to comprehend what must be going on in someone else’s head is useless, yet I always try. Judging actions, facial expressions, word choices, I give my full reading of what I think the person is all about. The fact of it all is that I will never come close to comprehension because this person’s knowledge, thought and consciousness are completely hidden from me, besides the expressions of the physical body. Just like me, this person is also an actor, hiding himself.
Lately I’ve felt lost in the art of acting. I feel that I am damn good at it and can use it most definitely to my advantage, but I need to express myself truly. It’s a weird thing to feel like you’re trapped in your own mind, unable to fully express yourself. With all the acting that we do in a day, how do any of us know who we really are?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
A Loss of Direction "Part 2"
The buzz of Jeff’s cell phone nearly shook me out of my skin. I looked him straight in the eyes at his hands, quick as a flash of lightning, reached to turn off his phone. His eye’s started tearing in fear while he trembled. It happened all so fast, but every little detail was almost slow motion with the intense rush of adrenaline that was rushing through my body. I peeked through the bushes to see if they heard anything when I realized that they had almost found us. I grabbed Jeff’s arms and pulled him up and gave him the look of death.
“Run” I whispered. It was then that he must have noticed the terror behind my eyes because he didn’t hesitate to take my lead.
We both ran as fast as we could through the woods not knowing if we would make it out alive. I don’t know how long we ran for, but neither of us stopped. We ran and ran, never looking back. I could feel my heartbeat pulsate throughout my entire body, pushing a rush of chemicals through my brainstem. Nothing seemed real, I couldn’t hear or think about anything accept running and trying to save my life.
Jeff didn’t slow down; he kept up to me the entire time. I looked back, still running and I remember Jeff staring ahead with wide eyes, but I can’t remember anything after that.
“Are you okay?” whispered Jeff while kneeling over top of me.
“What are you doing?” I asked feeling and sensation of uneasiness in my stomach. Everything was disorienting. The walls seemed as if they were pulsating and there was a sharp pain in my head. I looked around the room at plywood walls, some of the boards were rotting with holes and there were bugs everywhere. There was an old tin can lying on the floor beside me and garbage piled against every wall. The place smelled like a swamp. It almost looked like a shed made completely out of trash. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I just wake up in some shack and you have no idea where we are? Were we captured? Are they going to torture us?”
“Stop with all the questions. You ran head on into a tree while you were looking back. You were completely out cold. I had to carry your ass through the woods.”
“You carried me?”
“Yeah I did, thank me later and think about how we are going to get out of this.”
We both sat silent, looking at each other, our minds racing with thoughts.
“Jeff... Where are we?”
“I don’t know, I found this shack in the woods and decided to hide you here until you gained consciousness.”
Looking around at the place, I started to feel uneasy. We had no idea exactly where we were and we were hiding out in some random shack that was just set up in the middle of the woods.
“Jeff... What if this place belongs to them?”
“Run” I whispered. It was then that he must have noticed the terror behind my eyes because he didn’t hesitate to take my lead.
We both ran as fast as we could through the woods not knowing if we would make it out alive. I don’t know how long we ran for, but neither of us stopped. We ran and ran, never looking back. I could feel my heartbeat pulsate throughout my entire body, pushing a rush of chemicals through my brainstem. Nothing seemed real, I couldn’t hear or think about anything accept running and trying to save my life.
Jeff didn’t slow down; he kept up to me the entire time. I looked back, still running and I remember Jeff staring ahead with wide eyes, but I can’t remember anything after that.
“Are you okay?” whispered Jeff while kneeling over top of me.
“What are you doing?” I asked feeling and sensation of uneasiness in my stomach. Everything was disorienting. The walls seemed as if they were pulsating and there was a sharp pain in my head. I looked around the room at plywood walls, some of the boards were rotting with holes and there were bugs everywhere. There was an old tin can lying on the floor beside me and garbage piled against every wall. The place smelled like a swamp. It almost looked like a shed made completely out of trash. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I just wake up in some shack and you have no idea where we are? Were we captured? Are they going to torture us?”
“Stop with all the questions. You ran head on into a tree while you were looking back. You were completely out cold. I had to carry your ass through the woods.”
“You carried me?”
“Yeah I did, thank me later and think about how we are going to get out of this.”
We both sat silent, looking at each other, our minds racing with thoughts.
“Jeff... Where are we?”
“I don’t know, I found this shack in the woods and decided to hide you here until you gained consciousness.”
Looking around at the place, I started to feel uneasy. We had no idea exactly where we were and we were hiding out in some random shack that was just set up in the middle of the woods.
“Jeff... What if this place belongs to them?”
Monday, August 23, 2010
Rage Wonder?
Why does everybody like violence so much? I try to avoid fighting as much as I can, but sometimes it still seems to be unavoidable. It’s the worst when you are just trying to relax and have a good time when some roid raging monkey comes out of the bar looking for anyone smaller than him to fight. Of course I am one of the first ones that these people want; only being 135 pounds, an easy target. It pisses me off more than anything to be unwillingly pushed into a violent situation with someone that you don’t even know. But thanks to the best of friends who are always there to back me up, I’ve managed to escape nearly every situation.
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