Filed under: Blogging, Mysteries | Tags: art, homosexuality, love, octopi, octopus, peace, photos
When I paint I stop wondering who I am or who I think I need to be.
And Nicholas, if you still read this blog, I saw someone at wal-mart today while I was buying the board this is painted on who looked like you. I hope you’re well and happy.
-joshua
Filed under: Blogging | Tags: art, concept art, croissant, french food, irregular activity, journaling, photos, rain, summer, summer time, summertime, video games, weather
Due to the twisted nature of the mind of the sadist architect for built my house, my room is the hottest part of the whole structure. I have no idea why but it’s for this reason that I’ve spent the last ten minutes wondering around with my laptop trying to find a place that’s cool enough to sit and type in.
Unfortunately, the best rating I’ve given to any room is tolerable and that’s the kitchen table but only without a shirt.
Fortunately, no one is home to be blinded by my fleshy pale exterior.
So, I finally sit down to type out this little blog update and I find I have an e-mail from my bank about some “irregular activity” on my bank account. Turns out they always raise an eyebrow when people make random purchases from quasi-shady Canadian Third Party video game equipment distributors. Who knew?
Anyway, I was able to clear it up and assure them that it was “totally legit.”
This summer has been absolutely lovely. The fact that my creative juices have been flowing so freely and I get at least five hours of free time a day totally makes up for the lack of A/C in this house.
I’ve been working on a new project. It’s currant title is “Into Summer.” It’s a computer game love story about time travel. I’m hoping to use it as an exploration of mood and atmosphere but in a way that isn’t eyeball melting-ly boring the way all other games that are made with those goals in mind seem to be. Also, anyone who’s truly savvy will have noticed that the title is an reference to an old 1950’s sci-fi book called The Door Into Summer also about time travel, but very different to this project.
I’ve written some lengthy prose concerning the two main characters and their situation but I’m extremely hesitant to upload it to this blog or even deviant art. I’d rather keep them private, however proud of them I am.
Also, I haven’t forgotten my old project, the REALLY big one called “Eyes On Trial".” It’s really big and honestly the sort of thing that’s totally out of my league for the moment in terms of plausibility. But, it remains, in the background and eventually I will take it and I will organize it and streamline it and probably subtract some things in order to fully expand on the key elements. Blah blah blah, game designer talk.
I’m feeling that weird conflict between journaling here and journaling in my private, physical diary. The physical diary is obviously for more personal things that would be inappropriate for here (like the details of a recent phone call with my ex for instance.)
I feel bad writing so much but not adding a photo. Oh hell, here’s a picture of me without a shirt eating a croissant with crème fraîche.
-Joshua
p.s. just as a started adding the tags to think i heard thunder and now i’m looking out my window at the prettiest summer rain you could imagine. 🙂
Filed under: Blogging, Mysteries | Tags: art, canvas, flickr, glue, homosexuality. peace, hope, liberty, love, new art, paint, photos, poetry, yarn
The moon is a great apostle of liberty. Like the Marquis de LaFayette.
“No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again” -R.S.
This painting has personal meaning. I’m getting to the point where I see loneliness, and the languishing about such, as kind f immature. If I were to open my mouth up and complain about being lonely in life right now it would be as if I were walking along the great wall of China and complaining that my feet hurt from all the old stones.
Life, daily life especially, is an absolute bouquet of the most delicious sensations available to sentient life. I’m convinced of this: laughter is better than fucking, because it costs nothing.
This red moon is solumn joy raising over a familiar and not unhospitable landscape. The house is made of yarn, it is a construction that can be deconstructed and moved.
I find the activity of cutting and gluing various types of yarn to various types of objects weirdly soothing. I will pursue this form of leisure.
Also, hot pink and metallic silver paint markers please me^_^
That is all.
Filed under: Blogging, Mysteries | Tags: nes, new toy, nintendo, photos, snes, third party, video games
So I recently bought a machine.
It’s pretty sweet (unlike my camera. Sorry!)
It was about fifty bucks at Play & Trade at the Mall of Georgia.
I love that place. I know it’s a mall, but I LOVE it.
So anyway, this thing is great. It plays NES and SNES games. It’s got a slightly cheapish plasticy feel to it, but it works great so no complaints.
Also, it uses actual SNES controllers. Well, it came with some fake ones that weren’t as good as real Nintendo ones, but I got a real one so it’s ok.
Here’s a buncha photos of it:
So, these are the games I currantly have and I’m sort of on a quest to get several specific ones (can you say “ebay”?)
Included:
SNES – Super Metroid
SNES – Zelda: A Link to the Past
NES – Metal Storm
I’m sure there are more, there’s a ton of old SNES classics I have yet to think of. Maybe Mortal Kombat 3?
Filed under: Blogging | Tags: art, Blogging, diaries, diary, homosexuality, journaling, Leaves of Grass, love, painting, photos, romance, symbolism, triptych
Oh man. I really gotta try to keep up dudes…
So, school year’s runnin’ down and I’m BUSY BUSY BUSY. But with good things! Promise!
I’m currently flirting with a particular college here in Georgia. It likes me, I like it and hey, I know this particular university lives a little far away but I’m willing to travel if you know what I mean…
And what I mean is that I’m am literally willing to travel. To this college.
It’s hard really. To keep a blog and a journal. Because I have a journal. A real journal, with paper and ink and a book mark built into it.
Good advice I think... on the cover there.
Built in bookmark FTW
Sometimes blogging feel so ephemeral. Like, by writing something down in a book it really is saved forever. A real autobiography. I mean, over the course of my years I’ve filled up a good many journals.
from December 25, 2002 to April 23, 2009
My first journal entry ever was written in what I considered very fancy Middle Earth talk (which in my twelve year old mind meant using the words “recount” and “uncanny” a lot) about how awesome Metroid Fusion is.
My recent one was a very vague mentioning about my car wreck and my desire to do a triptych featuring kissing and lines from Romeo & Juliet. How not as exciting.
But, reading through my old journals from sixteen to seventeen to eighteen I realizee I was a very romantic boy, very disinterested in sex and very lonely. I saw the whole of gay society as being dominated by meaningless sex and superficial materialistic values. Which, it pretty much is, but now I know that there are a few others out there like me. Men who want what throbs in the ribs rather than what throbs in the pants, who want forehead kisses more than blow jobs. Men who don’t see the world and as a giant bus station who’s job it is to transport pleasure to them.
Still, there are few. But I’m proud to have self control and mastery over my desires. I value serenity and hard work over immediate, flimsy pleasure and empty materialism. I think I’m far more Buddist than I’ll ever be willing to admit.
That’s probably something that needs to get recorded into my real journal.
It’s funny. I sort of have this idea that in the future people will find my journals and try to put together who I was. Or maybe I’ll go through them and use them to write a memoir. Augustan Burroughs style.
Oh well, in Art News (which I know is pretty much all you people actually care about reading about) I’m working on a series of paintings/mixed media projects interpreting Leaves of Grass through mythical symbols or something like that. You’ve already seen one of these paintings. However not in its completed state.
More to come.
-Joshua
P.S. Hi everyone who’s come over from Letnaturebe! Rather surprised you’ve migrated (of course not really migrated, I couldn’t stop reading LNB if I wanted to!) but I’m glad you’re here! 🙂
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: art, dance, doodling on napkins, drip painting, essay, film, finger painting, graffiti, LED tagging, literature, oil painting, photos, poetry, screen printing, spraypaint, stencil, tatoos, theater
I took this picture. It's probably painted over by now...
I’m not doing much.
I have an Acrylic On Canvas I want to get framed. I have not painted it yet but I know it needs to get framed. It will be a recreation of the painting described in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, of the painting of the actual Dawn Treader. I hope that sentence made sense.
I’ve been thinking about graffiti more and more. About the concept at least. Going out, and, in the defiance of rules, creating art.
Anywhere a concrete structure is, it’s part of it’s environment. So, when a graffiti artist sprays a stencil or draws on concrete of=r any structure they are not simply adding art to something pre-existing. It’s not like hanging a canvas on the wall. The canvas can be moved, picked up. The canvas is it’s own object. Separate from the other. The canvas is unrelated to the wall.
But it’s different when a graffiti artist bombs a wall. Here the word bomb means “the act of writing a grafitti tag in a highly visible public place.” (urbandictionary.com). They are not just putting something onto something else, they are changing the object in question.
They create transformative art rather than additive (yes, here the word “create” can be argued against, as one does not (usually) build the structure one bombs). This is pro-active rather than passive and therefor a logical artistic extension of the city-dwelling attitute.
There is something else. If art is about saying something, then the real primal human beauty of graffiti is in it’s recklessness, because the artist has something to say and he or she refuses to acknowledge society’s laws and taboos. They want people to see and to read and too know. And this is, if nothing else in the world is, art.
I’m not comparing graffiti to any other art; and I’m am definitely not saying that it is more noble, or more true, or that one is better than another.
I’m merely choosing to celebrate this reckless abandonment and brutal public exposition. I want to learn from it. I want my own art to be more active, more forceful, more like whatever essence of harsh, messy expression that graffiti artists seem to possess.
In reality, all of the arts are vital; theater, dance, film, literature, poetry, doodling on napkins, oil painting, drip painting, finger painting, screen printing, LED tagging, tatoos and a trillion other things.
Little bits of human souls and feelings locked in images. It’s pretty and it says things and all that. But,in the end, it’s the only way we can really show ourselves to others.
“I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”
Walt Whitman
from Song of Myself
Filed under: Blogging | Tags: Appalachia, georgia, germany, helen, independance, photos, roadtrip
I was excied about the car. I left.
I went here:
I saw these things:
I love those wind chimes.
I full grocery store. Just smaller and without the eye dissolving florecent lights or the gigantic ads everywhere.
Coolest toy store ever. It's all wooden and handmade.
Pretty proud of this one actually.
Nothing says Germanic authenticity like tarantulas.
*Shrugg* "I don't know where your children are."
This is actually outside of town, but, whatever.
so that was ok. i eated funnel cake and bratwurst. yay.
ATTERCOP 