<p>Scriffles: Asia Pacific Triennial at the Queensland Art Gallery is heaps of fun for kids & grown-ups to share. from Lisa Yallamas on Vimeo.</p>
I didn't make any New Year resolutions. I chose themes and colours. I chose Red for Harmony and Purple for Dreams. I've been sick ever since. Excuse me while I cough my lungs up ... it only happens at night.
January: coughing keeps me up nights and not just any coughing.
It's wake up with blocked windpipe, gagging, choking, I can't even breathe kind of coughing.
Been to the doctors twice and she says it's sinus and indigestion.
Can't think why it'd be indigestion. Never had problems with either. Today someone (who's not a doctor) tells me sinus and nasal passages is where you get anaerobic bacteria - no oxygen required.
Great they don't need oxygen but I do so they kill the host and die?? Just looked it up on Wikipedia: Some produce toxins highly noxious to HUMANS:
Eg: tetanus and botulinum.
Certainly feels like I'm being poisoned! I have suspects! º¡º That would be my luck!
Half the known world is injecting itself with Botox with no side effects.
I, on the other hand, think it's lunacy injecting Botulism into my face for vanity's sake!
What do I do? I find another way of catching it - IN AUSTRALIA !!! ?????
This internet self-diagnosis really puts your mind at rest - doesn't it? I'm in harmony with a bug.
And a one, and a two and a... cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, GAG, GAG; Gag, Gag! Perforation of the bowel?
Even better! Wait till I see that doctor again!
I wonder if it's PURPLE? Cause I certainly ain't dreaming at night.
So if you're cool today. Not likely you'll be cool in 30 years Sweetheart.
Been wondering whether branded entertainment is a good thing for ethical projects.
McDonalds is worried about the methane cows fart into the atmosphere ... http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/corporatesocialresponsibility
Now Pepsi want to fund worthy projects:
Is it the wolf in sheep's clothing?
Is it possible to use "evil" power for good?
I sat in a food hall at a huge shopping mall today and looked at the people swallowing it down without question.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
It may be the only way to reach these people.
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Old King Cole lives at the Gallery of Modern Art, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia.
From the borderlands (ankle-high scrubby garden), an urban reptile scopes the cement plains inhabited by giants. Splat.
"Watermelon!" He whips under the coffee table to suck the juicy morsel. But he blows his cover.
He snatches up his prize and scampers away - gotta be easier than catching flies.
Life's a nursery rhyme for the urban reptile.
In a war against dust and clutter I've chucked stuff out - including books.
Who needs books! Who reads books! Who reads poetry?
But that stupid high school poetry book - I stuck back on the shelf.
Not just one copy, no, I have TWO!
Must've rescued a copy that someone else in the family was going to chuck.
They tell me to throw it out - I keep it.
Why must I be so sentimental and emotional?
I have no choice in this matter but my clean-up was partly a rebellion against myself. Your point of view changes as you move through life.
At 17, or 24, or 30, lots of things are just things.
And they ARE just things.
Words are just things. Something turned up on Twitter made me think of a poem I adored in high school.
It spoke of a beauty free of space and time.
This quote inspired a decade of my working life - I inscribed it on diaries, address books, and a painting.
"Beauty free of space and time" - this was my life's goal when I started out.
Funny that! I called a painting I did once Beauty free of Space and Time.
I don't think anyone else saw in it what I saw.
I kept it.
Once I could gaze endless at it.
I saw this company of dazzling Russian dancers.
Painting a small photograph out of the programme let me hang onto that moment of joy.
But today it's just a ghostly thing.
I'd forgotten what I once passionately believed in.
What is beauty free of space and time?
Perceptions ... sights, sounds, touch, smell ...
lead to
Reactions, expressions, words, silences ...
....
...
.
English poet Clive Sansom talks about a grand design in this poem, The Spirit of the Cathedral.
Now, I've never believed that our lives are laid out by a grand design.
Perhaps I've even tried to prove this poem wrong.
By steadfastly pursuing something that truly is beyond me I've proved him right.
There is a grand design, an immaculate pattern, the repository of perfection.
Everything in its perfect place.
Artist he must grope, must mould
Within his mouldering hands a symbol
Of that perfection - loveliness dissolving
Even as it leaves his touch, but telling
For a space of time, of beauty free
Of space and time. And beholders know
The shadow's substance, the divine matrix
From which this image came." Even though I eventually forgot these words, the idea had taken root in my very being.
Maybe it was always there.
If you want to read the whole poem, here it is: The Spirit of the Cathedral
by Clive Sansom b 1912 England. Whatever is beautiful, whatever rouses
The heart from its complacent sleep, says
"Man, you are more than man, more
Than a repository of birth and death" - such beauty,
Before the creative chisel of the mind
Shaped it in stone or word, music
Or colour, lay in the Imagination's eye,
The retina of God. They know, who see it, that a world exists
Behind the world, where the thought, the Idea
Of beauty, independent of its earthly form,
Lives in perfection - an eternal realm
Which holds the immaculate pattern fast
The artist gropes to find. But being
Artist he must grope, must mould
Within his mouldering hands a symbol
Of that perfection - loveliness dissolving
Even as it leaves his touch, but telling
For a space of time, of beauty free
Of space and time. And beholders know
The shadow's substance, the divine matrix
From which this image came. So with the Cathedral. Before it laid
Its pressure on the clay, enclosed the moving
Air with arches, or threw its spire
Upon the mercy of the wind - already in that other
Kingdom stood the great archetype,
Supreme and perfect, waiting only
The man to see, the will to fashion
Its mortal replica. *** *** *** Now what amazes me most about this is that it informs all the work I've done for the past five years writing a children's book.
Almost 10,000 words about a grand design.
Never would even have found this connection unless Gary Tan hadn't blogged about building a cathedral.
And certainly wouldn't have connected the dots if I'd thrown this book out because I can't find it on the internet. *** *** ***
Sorry for the literals.
Didn't read it back.
Too busy with lining it up etc...
Took the eye off the editing ball.