I was sitting at my desk at Headwrapping School's main office. Tired after a long day of shoe inventory I decided to watch a video that I especially like on youtube. By accident I typed in the wrong url and instead of T-Rex banging a gong I got:
Sure, I know the title of this post is a cliche. But life is full of cliches. I once actually had a person stare at one of my paintings and then shake his head and say, "It's Greek to me!" I guess it's happened more than once. And many is the time that I saw someone look at a painting of mine and then shake their head with that same look on their face, and I knew they were thinking the same.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJavelin Toss - 15x20in - markers and paint on foamboard - click to enlarge
Of course I don't say anything to them when I see that look. But if they took into consideration the fact that accidents can turn into inspirations for an artist, cliche though it and I may be, then they might understand --it's not Greek. It may contain some Italian but...
The question is: after an accident happens what do you do?
)Give up hope.
)Shake your head.
)Try to find a positive aspect to the changed and changing situation to focus on.
The following may come as a surprise. You may be a bit shocked. Well not really shocked and not exactly surprised but . . . right about at this point you may have a certain look on your face, it may be that you are bored, you would likely prefer some romantic fiction to a nuts and bolts discussion about creativity. Well, here at Headwrapping School you have to take the bolts with the nuts. Speaking of bolts, you'll observe a thunderbolt coming from a cloud and about to strike a UFO at an area designated '51' on the surface of the composition, just to the left of a buffalo head. The significance of such a juxtaposition is, well . . . just suppose that you are at a tournament and there is a javelin tosser and --you are the javelin. There is a terrible accident. You go out of your body from the wrenching in your gut. The javelin that is you has been tossed. It's as if lighting has struck. There is no going back. Even if the lightning has been created by the government seeding clouds in secret to conceal their testing of alien-engineered-technology powered crafts that silently roam our atmosphere --did you ever turn around suddenly and think you glimpsed something strange from the corner of your eye? It doesn't matter or even apply. You may even be paranoid or completely crazy. Or not. I don't know. But the juxtaposition of javelin and destiny is permanently etched into the bloggosphere. The damage has been recorded in the akashic record (the big blog in the sky) and there is nothing left but to grieve.
So sad and alone. And as you look down upon the tournament from your place above it all, you can't decide whether it's a blessing or a curse that there's not even anybody else aware enough of your fate to make you want to put a good face on your abandoned javelin-body. It may be at this crucial moment, between fantasy and reality, between past and future, between blogs surfed, between you and I, that dies will be cast, that javelins will be tossed, and that fate is sealed with a toss of the head and an ironic curled lipped kiss. Did you ever type in the wrong url only to find that your life changes forever? That's what can happen when 'supposing' is juxtaposed with 'tired fingers'. And so by supposing yourself a javelin tossed you have suspended disbelief, even if it's only make-believe, or make-disbelief. Whatever. And now you are one of us, one who has been tossed . . .
So you see my art is not just 'art for art's sake'... or whatever they say these days ... it's not merely an expression of existential angst. For from chaos comes order. And from de dark comes delight --the key that opens the wrapped head wide, never to be closed again. And so if you, yes you --if you are ever awake and also out of your body, or head, (same difference) due to the shock or the boredom of the situation, and perhaps you have that look upon your face, and then the hand of fate waves to you from across the universe and -- you realize that you are not really a javelin being tossed by someone else, you are you, watching youtube. An indelible accident has just happened, once again, somewhere on another continent in another time which inspires you to grieve and to want to do a painting about grief, well not exactly about grief, but you know --a painting that wails, a blues dirge for all the undeservedly damaged headshakers and misunderstood Greeks. So then let it be.
And then one doesn't feel so bad. A catharsis ritual and lamentation, yes, but it's alright, everything is alright, uptight, and clean outasight, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'...? Bang a gong, celebrate, get it on, cuz even the beautiful youth of Spring has to die and be broken apart like a seed --as the javalin of Summer comes steaming in.
And now it's hot. Oh gawd it's hot, oh baby, oh oh oh, don't come in so fast. That's English but if I said it in Greek you'd still understand. Which is to say that both Englishmen and Greeks have been known to shake their heads --but is it a cliche?
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