Tuesday, May 31, 2016

What is it written in?

The language is that of Ink. No, wait. Not in this or that shape. It could be...

This is borrowed is what it says. 

Ink is spilled in either form or gouts, which are unshaped.

The metaphors of horns. Thorns don’t hold all of it: ground up knuckles, soot. Oak cancer.

Do you still wonder that Ink speaks of death so much?

Thursday, May 12, 2016


Today it just seemed that way. And what exactly did that mean? There is always the conception that somehow, somewhere there is a power, a collective intelligence a demiurge that is making the world appear to be what it is. In other words the phenomenology of the world is generated outside, and is, unreal.

I sometimes like to believe that, especially on a sunny day. After all, the sunny day means that whatever power is creating this illusion of life, wants me to enjoy it a little. As if to say "hey, I know my work isn't all shits-and-giggles but here's something for the ladies."

It being a sunny day, I walked over to meet my illustrator for lunch. Since he was busy in a meeting I waited and occupied myself with window gazing. In looking out the view of his window, I quickly understood why David acts the way he does.

I was gazing out on it when he came up mumbling something about defeasance.

Defeasance itself is a legal term which simply means undo, via French and of course Latin. I was more interested in how this concept could be applied elsewhere. Can I defease the phenomenal world? David has his visually oriented side, so I asked him:

"Look on this vista. Here you have a perfect quaternity of existence in this world, all within a view. Up the hill there in the middle is what appears to be a Soviet Era housing project. To the left is the King County Gaol. The precarious parking garage for your building has a Matissean rip-off of a man committing suicide. Pity he wasn't caught in time so they could haul him up the hill to Harborview for a 72 hour observational vacation and concurrent medication.

"Can you simply defease this scene into planes of grey, sandstone and blue? Does the green of the trees suggest life or putrefaction? Could the abstraction, the decreation, actually liberate your soul from whatever is beyond? Of course you have a jailed and contained soul. Look outside your window. But that is only through context. How can I possibly assume that the noumenal world beneath this unthrilling architecture has the same effect on you? Are you even aware? Could this be a paradise if it's defeased and resurrected?

At this point he asked me if I was going to keep going on like this or if I was still hungry. Knowing my weakness for shrimp balls, and sesame cakes, David suggested dim sum in the International District. Lunch certainly defeased my hunger.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Best Practices

Babel took a lot longer to build than was previously considered, and in fact it is still under construction. The Biblical story of conflicting tongues should not be considered literally.
Breugel's Tower of Babel.* 
Rather, the builders, architects, project managers, branding consultants and visioning conveners were actually using the same language, but they found the work could be prolonged indefinitely if one could only apply modern language management techniques and remove semantic precision altogether.

The next great leap forward (or backward, but by now direction had become irrelevant) occurred when the graphic progress analysts and professional metricians began to make a scale visual management system model. Most of this consisted of pretty colors, with lots of numbers indicating quantifications of some kind. It is also a masterpiece under constant revision.

Breugel's painting of the "Little" Tower of Babel scale visual management model.**

*Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna
**Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam