So
It seems the Cultural Legacy of the Olympics will be a gutted public funding system.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
pyre
I thought I was in the midst of a Pyric victory, but found there is no such word. What I had meant was Pyrrhic. A victory from an ancient war lost. But no, I hadn’t meant that either, as I had no soldiers to burn but myself on a pyre of my own making.
I am smoldering in the night.
I am smoldering in the night.
Pointless
...
Verses written when I’m drunk,
Attract no admiration when sung.
What I want to know is did Lu Tsun-i’ s dream at the end of Water Margin indicate an awareness, an acknowledgment, of the spiraling vortex of murder rape and general injustice that the 108 heroes of Liang Shan Po created and gloried in in their pursuit of survival, righteousness and harmony under heaven?
Or is it pointless to even wonder?
Ever.
Shi Naian, you old fucker you.
Verses written when I’m drunk,
Attract no admiration when sung.
What I want to know is did Lu Tsun-i’ s dream at the end of Water Margin indicate an awareness, an acknowledgment, of the spiraling vortex of murder rape and general injustice that the 108 heroes of Liang Shan Po created and gloried in in their pursuit of survival, righteousness and harmony under heaven?
Or is it pointless to even wonder?
Ever.
Shi Naian, you old fucker you.
Friday, December 26, 2008
PRESENTS
Once again..
Herodotus says that Darius, after chasing the Scythians around the lands north of the Black Sea for weeks to no effect, sent a message to Idanthyrus, the Scythian king.
‘ Why on earth, strange man,’ the message ran, ‘do you keep on running away? You have, surely, a choice of two alternatives: if you think yourself strong enough to oppose me, stand up and fight, instead of wandering all over the world in your efforts to escape me; or if you admit that you are too weak, what is the good, even so, of running away? You should rather send earth and water to your master as a sign of submission, and come to a conference.’
‘Persian,’ Idanthyrus replied, ‘I have never yet run away from any man in fear; and I am not doing so now from you. There is, for me nothing unusual in what I have been doing: it is precisely the sort of life I always lead, even in times of peace... I will send you no gifts of earth and water, but others more suitable..’
The Scythians continued to harass the Persian army at a distance, enticing them ever onwards but never fully engaging them in decisive action. ... a stratagem to keep them longer in the country and reduce them in the end to distress from lack of supplies.
...until at last Darius did not know where to turn, and the Scythians, seeing his acute embarrassment, sent him his promised presents - a bird, a mouse, a frog and five arrows. The Persians asked the man who brought these things what they signified, but got no reply. The man’s orders - so he said - were merely to deliver them, and to return home as quickly as he could: the Persians themselves, if they were clever, could find out what the presents meant. Thereupon the Persians put their heads together, and Darius expressed the view that the Scythians were giving him earth and water and intended to surrender: mice, he reasoned, live on the ground and eat the same food as men; frogs live in water; birds are much like horses; and the arrows symbolised the Scythian power, which they were giving into his hands. Gobryas, however (one of the seven conspirators who put down the Magus), by no means agreed with him, but interpreted the gifts as saying: ‘Unless you Persians turn into birds and fly up in the air, or into mice and burrow under ground, or into frogs and jump into lakes, you will never get home again, but stay here in this country, only to be shot by the Scythian arrows.'
While the Persians were thus interpreting the gifts...-the Scythians were cutting off their escape and trying to persuade the Greek navy, Persia’s allies at the time, to leave the Danube, taking their bridge with them. Darius eventually figured out this much and was able to escape by the skin of his teeth. Thereafter, he left the Scythians well enough alone.
a bird, a mouse, a frog and five arrows.
the Persians themselves, if they were clever, could find out what the presents meant.
Art is a gift that fucks with your head.
Herodotus says that Darius, after chasing the Scythians around the lands north of the Black Sea for weeks to no effect, sent a message to Idanthyrus, the Scythian king.
‘ Why on earth, strange man,’ the message ran, ‘do you keep on running away? You have, surely, a choice of two alternatives: if you think yourself strong enough to oppose me, stand up and fight, instead of wandering all over the world in your efforts to escape me; or if you admit that you are too weak, what is the good, even so, of running away? You should rather send earth and water to your master as a sign of submission, and come to a conference.’
‘Persian,’ Idanthyrus replied, ‘I have never yet run away from any man in fear; and I am not doing so now from you. There is, for me nothing unusual in what I have been doing: it is precisely the sort of life I always lead, even in times of peace... I will send you no gifts of earth and water, but others more suitable..’
The Scythians continued to harass the Persian army at a distance, enticing them ever onwards but never fully engaging them in decisive action. ... a stratagem to keep them longer in the country and reduce them in the end to distress from lack of supplies.
...until at last Darius did not know where to turn, and the Scythians, seeing his acute embarrassment, sent him his promised presents - a bird, a mouse, a frog and five arrows. The Persians asked the man who brought these things what they signified, but got no reply. The man’s orders - so he said - were merely to deliver them, and to return home as quickly as he could: the Persians themselves, if they were clever, could find out what the presents meant. Thereupon the Persians put their heads together, and Darius expressed the view that the Scythians were giving him earth and water and intended to surrender: mice, he reasoned, live on the ground and eat the same food as men; frogs live in water; birds are much like horses; and the arrows symbolised the Scythian power, which they were giving into his hands. Gobryas, however (one of the seven conspirators who put down the Magus), by no means agreed with him, but interpreted the gifts as saying: ‘Unless you Persians turn into birds and fly up in the air, or into mice and burrow under ground, or into frogs and jump into lakes, you will never get home again, but stay here in this country, only to be shot by the Scythian arrows.'
While the Persians were thus interpreting the gifts...-the Scythians were cutting off their escape and trying to persuade the Greek navy, Persia’s allies at the time, to leave the Danube, taking their bridge with them. Darius eventually figured out this much and was able to escape by the skin of his teeth. Thereafter, he left the Scythians well enough alone.
a bird, a mouse, a frog and five arrows.
the Persians themselves, if they were clever, could find out what the presents meant.
Art is a gift that fucks with your head.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Decision Making
Hey fuckers,
I was reading some Herodotus and was struck by his report of decision making as practiced by the "Persians".
H says,
"If an important decision is to be made, they discuss the question when they are drunk, and the following day the master of the house where the discussion was held submits their decision for reconsideration when they are sober. If they still approve it, it is adopted; if not, it is abandoned. Conversely, any decision they make when they are sober, is reconsidered afterwards when they are drunk."
Whether or not this was true, I think it' sounds like a fabulous process.
I propose that we should adapt all our juries and think tank exercises to include the above mechanisation! The results could not be any more compromised than they already are, all that sober silence, shrewd ass coverage and friendly empty banter.
Uncork the wine and let the libidinous conversation flow!
... then we can reconsider later...
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Now I am an administrator
Over here at the office, there have been a few changes. I have moved myself from one column to another
and Now I am an administrator.
I used to think there were not enough arts administrators
then I thought there were far too many,
“There is far too much management in the arts - seriously”, I said,
but now that I am an administrator,
my very own personal Sherrie Johnson clone,
I fear I may be too much for myself.
Will I be two times as desperate for validation from an uncaring world?
Will I hate myself for making difficult to explain, hard to sell art?
Things that my mother hates?
Will I start talking about legacies so that I can justify ‘what I do’ with tawdry half-assed structures instead of working under the loathed corpse of the artist who is supposed to be inhabiting my imagined future with Outstanding Extraordinary Excellence?
Let him fuck himself! He is obviously unworthy of my supportive efforts so let’s forget the art and turn our attentions to legacies and the community. Community. You know? The clique. Then I think, “fuck that shit, creativity is it’s own legacy!”.
If I fired the artist, I’d be out of a sector and a job. If the sector vanished, that little fucker artist would still keep making shit.
Now I am an administrator
It’s hard to sleep with myself.
On the street outside the office a group of architects were looking at the architectural panel screens that are being erected on the exterior of the new Woodwards high rise. They are rust red metal and have identical lacy, organic-ish, designs. Like scabs.
I said, “It looks like your building has a sexually transmitted disease.”
It must have picked it up at the olympic corporate cluster fuck.
Hey Everybody! Invite me to your arts administrator/managers meetings!
I’m a barrel of laughs.
I’m changing the office motto to "Do What You Want To Do" .
It may seem less worldly than "BE PATIENT,THE WORLD IS STUPID" (motto#1), or "TAKE RISKS,THE WORLD IS CHANGING" (motto#2)- but it feels right for me, for now.
Over here at the office, there have been a few changes. I have moved myself from one column to another
and Now I am an administrator.
I used to think there were not enough arts administrators
then I thought there were far too many,
“There is far too much management in the arts - seriously”, I said,
but now that I am an administrator,
my very own personal Sherrie Johnson clone,
I fear I may be too much for myself.
Will I be two times as desperate for validation from an uncaring world?
Will I hate myself for making difficult to explain, hard to sell art?
Things that my mother hates?
Will I start talking about legacies so that I can justify ‘what I do’ with tawdry half-assed structures instead of working under the loathed corpse of the artist who is supposed to be inhabiting my imagined future with Outstanding Extraordinary Excellence?
Let him fuck himself! He is obviously unworthy of my supportive efforts so let’s forget the art and turn our attentions to legacies and the community. Community. You know? The clique. Then I think, “fuck that shit, creativity is it’s own legacy!”.
If I fired the artist, I’d be out of a sector and a job. If the sector vanished, that little fucker artist would still keep making shit.
Now I am an administrator
It’s hard to sleep with myself.
On the street outside the office a group of architects were looking at the architectural panel screens that are being erected on the exterior of the new Woodwards high rise. They are rust red metal and have identical lacy, organic-ish, designs. Like scabs.
I said, “It looks like your building has a sexually transmitted disease.”
It must have picked it up at the olympic corporate cluster fuck.
Hey Everybody! Invite me to your arts administrator/managers meetings!
I’m a barrel of laughs.
I’m changing the office motto to "Do What You Want To Do" .
It may seem less worldly than "BE PATIENT,THE WORLD IS STUPID" (motto#1), or "TAKE RISKS,THE WORLD IS CHANGING" (motto#2)- but it feels right for me, for now.
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