The role of an artist

Yesterday was a good day as I joined two art classes in my role at a primary school

One of those was the "special education" class, which brings together neurodivergent students.

I had sketched my submarine when the girl next to me said "Wow, are you an artist?"

It was a question that I thought about briefly, before remembering to say "yes."

Maybe it was because my role at the time was "paraprofessional," which is vague and I mostly follow the teacher's directions in art classes.

At other times I've described myself as an evangelist for creativity, as I think more people need to recognise the diverse benefits from having a creative practise or three.

This morning I was pondering my reluctance to accept the title of "artist" yesterday, reminding myself that I've had exhibitions and won prizes.

It really is important to raise the profile of the arts and validate the activity for others, I think.

As the art lesson progressed this student shared that her mother was an artist who sometimes made collages and other assembled artworks.

Then, nearer the end of the lesson, she said quietly "I'm a bit of an artist" and it was the conversion that I realised one should be working toward.

As an artist it is my responsibility to help others see the artist in their activities.

This map shows my house

 

Stealing beauty

Looking through the card from a camera and realised this memory wasn't mine

After recognising the subject and setting, my mind ran through observations about the time of year based on the angle of light and then confirming the layers of clothing suggested it would be winter or early spring.

Then I wondered why it surprised me as much as it did?

There's an intimacy in a selfie and looking in on a scene, a kind of voyeurism that I don't think about enough to feel guilty for it.

The thing I liked most, I decided after sifting through a mess of emotions, is the lighting of the eye.

Jo's irises were one of the first things I remember about her and still give me a thrill to read their grey-blue intentions.

Some days it's like looking at the sea and seeing something leap from the sparkle.

An assault on assault rifles

Taking aim at bad deals

In 1990 Eugene Stoner (left, with his M16) met Mikhail Kalashnikov (right, with his AK-47). They traveled together and became friends. In many of the world’s wars since 1965, the two guns were on opposite sides.

The US-made M16 had a reputation through the Vietnam conflict for jamming, while the AK-47 had a cartridge so solid that it was used by soldiers as a hammer.

The M16 routinely left the rifleman defenseless. In May 1967, one Marine wrote to his family: "We left with 250 men in our company and came back with 107. We left with 72 men in our platoon and came back with 19. Believe it or not, you know what killed most of us? Our own rifle. We were all issued this new rifle, the M16. Practically every one of our dead was found with his rifle torn down next to him where he had been trying to fix it.”

If you’ve paid any attention to Australia’s purchase of F35 fighter jets, then you’ll likely recognise how the MI6 overcame technical shortcomings to flood the battlefield with such uselessness through marketing and tradeshows.

According to former US Marine officer C.J. Chivers, author of The Gun, “The M16’s journey was marked by salesmanship, sham science, cover-ups, chicanery, incompetence, and no small amount of dishonesty by a gun manufacturer and senior American military officers.” 

As the Trump government are reshaping the New World Order, it's a good time to reconsider Australia's desire to be a Deputy to the US' Sherriff.

Jonfun

Spotted a burner in the wild

Ear to eternity

Working with pastels in art class this week

The teacher was talking about Van Gogh and drifted from talking about him painting sunflowers as a gift to cutting off his ear, which I seem to remember was also gifted?

Co-becoming

In a tutorial we read this paper that listed the Country it was written about as an author

It's one of those ideas that's exciting to an academic (definition: scholarship), yet seems a bit academic to a broader audience (definition: not of practical relevance). 

I'm still collecting my thoughts, so at this point I'm probably simultaneously excited and not relevant. 

Another thing that was interesting about the tutorial was the Acknowledgment of Country was done in Irish and reflected on that connection with the landscape. 

It reminded me that the closest I feel to a sense of co-becoming is asking the Country if I can proceed. 

I imagine that is like my Celtic forebears reciting ancient words to stir yeast when cooking or brewing with the belief the bread or beer will be flat if I don't.

Hey Google

Google has started giving general feedback

Ducks in a row

Monday morning and I feel strangely refreshed

There’s been a lot of sleep over the weekend, as well as exercise and good meals.

It’s when I begin reflecting on watching a couple of films that I realise.

This weekend is the first this year that all of my children have been at home.

That weird sense of ease and everything being where it’s meant to be?

Yeah, totally.

As much as I love seeing my children becoming their own adults living on campus in Canberra, it really soothed an itch that I hadn’t identified by having them in their own bedrooms for a few nights.

I can see where the ideological lines became drawn like a generation gap, as well as the sense that they had in some ways left home before they moved out.

I also get to breathe in the culture they breathe in another place, by consuming the music and movies and ick as it sounds — breathing in their beautiful young biomes.

That sense of balance is an exchange and I am grateful for it.

Self-portrait

Art classes are one of my favourite parts of going back to school
 

Free Rothko

 

Meet Jo Roberts

Western Riverina Arts have a profile of my significant other 

Read it here

I like how the photo of her looking at the camera plays with John Berger's observations about the presentation of women in art.

Is this a test?

I've a flare for this sort of writing
 

Sometimes you've got to be a man

It seems like gender schema is getting stronger each day

When these signs appeared at my pool this season, I thought it would only be a matter of time before someone realised the letters peel off.

So far the GIRLS sign is largely intact. 

Yet the BOYS sign outside the female toilets and showers has clearly benefited from the stronger fingernails of the fairer sex. 

Judging by comments from mothers, this vandalism can be seen as a deliberate message for council.

Many women have observed that their six-year old boy would struggle to get out of swimmers on his own, or would take ages and necessitate the mother yelling instructions outside for the duration. 

And, while thinking about being a man, this gem reappeared in my Facebook Memories this week.

Thoughts and prayers

The phrase "thoughts and prayers" has become a punchline but increasingly I have faith in their potential

One of my favourite prayers resurfaced in my Facebook Memories today and I thought I'd publish it here with attribution, so that I don't lose track of it.

[Claimed to be] A Traditional Náhuatl Prayer.

"I release my parents from the feeling that they have failed with me.
I release my children from the need to make me proud, so that they can write their own ways, according to their hearts.
I release my partner from the obligation to make me feel complete. I lack nothing in myself.
I learn with all the beings that surround me through all time.
I thank my grandparents and ancestors who met so that today I breathe life. And I release them from the faults of the past and from the wishes they did not fulfill, aware that they did the best they could to resolve their situations, within the consciousness they had at that moment. I honor them, I love them, and I recognize their innocence.
I bare my soul before their eyes and that is why they know that I do not hide or owe anything, more than being faithful to myself and my own existence walking with the wisdom of the heart.
I am aware that I am fulfilling my life project, free of visible and invisible family loyalties that may disturb my peace and my happiness, which are my greatest responsibilities.
I renounce the role of savior, of being the one who unites or who fulfills the expectations of others. And learning through love, I bless my essence and my way of expressing, although there may be someone who cannot understand me.
I understand myself, because only I lived and experienced my story; because I know myself, I know who I am, what I feel, what I do and why I do it.
I respect and approve.
I honor the Divinity in me and in you... We are free.”

(This ancient blessing was created in the Náhuatl language in the central region of Mexico, which deals with forgiveness, affection, detachment and liberation.)

[note from Wild Open: we have not been able to verify of the claims about culture of origin are true.]

Photo by Miguel Bruna

 

Word is Bond

After years of enjoying Bond movies it looks like the brand has been undermined from within

That's the key news in the resolution of the squabble between the Broccoli family, whose production deal oversaw all those great films, and Amazon Prime, who thought they bought ownership of the franchise with the MGM catalogue.

It is sad to see that in real life the billionaires win, given that Amazon Prime is owned by an increasingly villainous-appearing member of the megarich who has undermined journalistic integrity and pointlessly flown rockets at great environmental cost.

I'm surprised more hasn't been made of this outcome, particularly after Bond was killed off in the last movie. 

The one thing that might persuade me otherwise is if they now develop a decent series that explores how Bond was recruited by MI6, possibly drawing on the long history of spies being drawn from elite British universities to reveal how blindsided that country is to recognising merit outside of socioeconomic demography.

Image by S4RK

Glimpse of a beta view

It's often interesting to see those placeholder websites that are like a glimpse into the backrooms of the internet