4.11.09

Un sueño no encontraba mas el [sin]sentido a su existencia
-pues ya todo repetia-
y dióse fin:
abrió sus ojos y se tiró a la realidad.

tx Haiku

i feel the full view | the grass growing from our soil
|& helios shines above

21.10.09

De Cómo El Sueño Desentierra el Inconsciente


Soy malo para recordar lo que sueño, pero por lo que alcanzo a rescatar, mis historias son complejas, a colores y con ciertos lugares comunes que aunque "físicamente" son distintos, en esencia provocan la misma sensación.

El de anoche fue un sueño así: una combinación de eventos, donde se entremezclaban situaciones similares a las de mi pasado con eventos salidos -supongo- de la televisión, y aderezados con la infaltable fantasía.

La historia fué simplona: yo me encontraba -por razón que no recuerdo- en la entrada de la casa de Fer [que era muy del tipo de las casas gringas clasemedieras, parecida a la de Erik -el flaco de That 70's Show-] en la madrugada; al entrar lo que parecia haber sido una reunión donde se veian ex-compañeros míos de la secundaria y familiares de Fer; y donde yo esperaba un ambiente de desmadre y peda, se respiraba en su lugar el denso aire de la tragedia: durante el evento habia muerto Tere Cárdenas, probablemente de un repentino y fulminante infarto.

Llegó una ambulancia [o erá carro funebre?] y se la llevó a un destino incierto.

Recuerdo que el sueño duró mucho mas, que interactué con Judith M. -a quien aún la asocio con una fuerte atracción sexual- y con algunos otros mas que eran de ese tiempo, y que en mi memoria parecían enterrados para siempre...

y desperté con ese nombre en la lengua, ¡Tere Cárdenas!, nombre que no venía a mi memoria por mas de ¡20 años!. Una compañera como cualquier otra; ni tan bella ni tan fea, ni tan simpática ni tan desagradable, ni tan golfa ni tan recatada, ni tan protagónica ni tan insulsa: una mujer tan promedio que es perfecta para ser olvidada.

Así, en una fría madrugada de Octubre, habiendo recorrido miles de rostros, millones de palabras y capas y capas de recuerdos, apareció ella, Tere -al menos como creo que era-, una Tere tiesa y serena, que con mas elocuencia que los vivos recordóme que nada se olvida para siempre.

29.8.09

[Spectre 01]


El grafógrafo

Escribo. Escribo que escribo. Mentalmente me veo escribir que escribo y también puedo verme que escribo. Me recuerdo escribiendo ya y también viéndome que escribía. Y me veo recordando que me veo escribir y me recuerdo viéndome recordar que escribía y escribo viéndome escribir que recuerdo haberme visto escribir que me veía escribir que recordaba haberme visto escribir que escribía y que escribía que escribo que escribía. También puedo imaginarme escribiendo que ya había escrito que me imaginaría escribiendo que había escrito que me imaginaba escribiendo que me veo escribir que escribo.
Salvador Elizondo

El grafógrafo

Escribo. Escribo que escribo. Mentalmente me veo escribir que escribo y también puedo verme que escribo. Me recuerdo escribiendo ya y también viéndome que escribía. Y me veo recordando que me veo escribir y me recuerdo viéndome recordar que escribía y escribo viéndome escribir que recuerdo haberme visto escribir que me veía escribir que recordaba haberme visto escribir que escribía y que escribía que escribo que escribía. También puedo imaginarme escribiendo que ya había escrito que me imaginaría escribiendo que había escrito que me imaginaba escribiendo que me veo escribir que escribo.

Salvador Elizondo

5.6.09

Giger's Rep advice

I'm an aspiring artist and a big fan of Mr. Giger's work, and was wondering if you could possibly give me some advice? Any help you could give me would be greatly appreciated, particularly if you could guide me as to what courses you feel would be of most benefit to me.


Dear Aspiring Artist:

Here is my advice. Think of it as a five-year plan:

Take whatever courses you find the most interesting.

Study closely the work of the Old Masters.

Stop making art that originates only from your own imagination.

Stay with one technique until you perfect it.

On any given day, always be in the middle of reading a book. When you finish one, start the next. Fiction, nonfiction, biographies, autobiographies, history, science, psychology, or how to build a kite. Anything but go easy on the comic books.

Buy and read the first 6 pages of newspaper every day and also the editorial commentaries. Skip the entertainment section. Su Doku is fine. Do the crossword puzzle.

Fill up a sketchbook every month with pen or pencil drawings of the world around you, not from your imagination.

Buy a book on figure drawing. It's the only art book you will ever need.

Until you can draw an accurate portrait of someone, you don’t know how to draw.

Stay away from the airbrush. You'll never master it, hardly anyone ever has.

Visit every museum in your city. Often, until you have seen everything in it. Every kind of museum. Not only the art museums but, of course, those as well.

Forget about contemporary art by living artists, at least for the next few years.

Stay away from most art galleries. Go to art auctions. That's where the real action is.

Learn to play chess.

Take a business course.

Talk to you mother or father at least once a week.

Stop going to the movies until you have rented and seen every film on this list. http://www.time.com/time/2005/100movies/the_complete_list.html

Do not watch television unless it’s the news or documentaries.

Do not use an Ipod.

No video games, either.

Learn a foreign language.

Learn to cook.

Spend 8 hours in a hospital emergency room.

Save up money so you can travel to a foreign country within the next five years.

Do not litter.

Avoid politically correct people.

Vote in every election or never dare to utter a political opinion. You are not entitled to one.

Buy a digital camera and take photos every day.
If you see nothing interesting to photograph, you will never be a good artist. Keep only one photo of every ten you take. Delete the rest. It will force you to learn how to edit the garbage from your life, to make choices, to recognize what has real value and what is superficial.

Visit an old age home.

Listen to classical music and jazz. If you are unable to appreciate it at least as much as contemporary music, you lack the sensitivity to develop into an artist of any real depth.

Go to the ballet. Classical or Modern, it doesn't matter. It will teach you to appreciate physical grace and the relationship between sound and movement.

Wake up every morning no later than 8 AM, regardless of what time you went to sleep.

Learn to play a musical instrument.

Learn to swim.

Keep your word.

Never explain your art. People who ask you to do so are idiots.

Never explain yourself. Better yet, never do anything that will, later, require you to explain yourself or to say you're sorry.

Always use spell check.

Stop aspiring and start doing.

This will keep you very busy but it can't be helped.
In my opinion, this is how you might, possibly, have a shot at becoming a good artist.

Hope this helps,

Les Barany


17.4.09

Penetration - The Nefilim

Seeing things in my whole life, images exploding. You have been chosen."

"We are free."

Endemion - magical son
Nothing here is real
Lasts forever
Shining like gods
New body, new blood
The fire that I feel
Armageddon
Vision

Penetrating me
Penetrating you
Penetrating deep

Look out

"What's happening is real. You can't stop them. What do you think, we just go on forever?"

Ziarahs are all burning ahead
Illuminating ways I've not dreamed before
Eternals are inviting me in
I see images of you burn forever
Can't contain

Penetrating deep - generating me
Penetrating you - let go

We must go back now
Make my entrance one way
And I can't look in
And I can't look back
We cannot stop, no
Black out
Listen

"Repeat: we have confirmed angel touchdown. The place is completely ablaze of fire. It's like hell down here. I think we're going straight for the fucking light."

Penetrating deep
Penetrating me
Penetrating you
Again

5.1.09

Johnny Cash - NIN's 'Hurt"


I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

[Nine Inch Nails]

The Dead Flag Blues