Whenever a particular architectural feature catches my fancy, I make note of it, just in case I'd like to put it to use if ever in a situation to build my own abode (which likely means the thing will end up looking like an eclectic nightmare). In this particular case, it is the glass brick floor sections in a single screenshot from a new Gerard Depardieu film that Warren Ellis made note of on his blog for completely other reasons.
I run the image through my Rollo Wireless, a thermal label printer (I typically use for shipping labels) which automagically gives it the kind of stark black and white treatment I wish my drawing looked like, and stick it in my journal (no glue necessary, the label is already a sticker).
Inbox and feed-catcher both at zero. A cool breeze gently huffs through the office window on this bright sunny morning and a red jay announces its arrival at the birdfeeder outside. On the docket today are two TSG pages worth of inking, a couple emails, and beet kofta to cook later in the afternoon. Must also remember to step away for a little exercise in addition to a quick stop by my chiropractor, who is a short 10 minute bike ride away.
Already at the drawing table with cappuccino in hand and generic “coffee & jazz” instrumentals playing the background. It's that kinda day.
Since posting about my “journaling” practice (it's not actually journaling, not in the traditional sense), many have wrote to tell me how they'd love to take a peek through some of my journals (sick voyeurs). I am but here to please; here's a look at my journal from November 2017 to 2019:
“And the strangest thing about the nightmare street was that none of the millions of things for sale were made there. They were only sold there. Where were the workshops, the factories, where were the farmers, the craftsmen, the miners, the weavers, the chemists, the carvers, the dyers, the designers, the machinists, where were the hands, the people who made? Out of sight, somewhere else. Behind walls. All the people in all the shops were either buyers or sellers. They had no relation to the things but that of possession.”
As much as I enjoy seeing Ursula K. Le Guin rip Capitalism to shreds, her prose has failed to captivate me. At least as far as THE DISPOSSESSED is concerned. 139 pages in so far, and I care not for a single character or any of the events that might transpire, which is a good reminder that ethos alone—however important it may be—is never enough to fully carry a narrative.
Still, there are a great many nuggets sprinkled throughout:
“To make a thief, make an owner; to create crime, create laws.”
Rome, September last year if I recall. Laura Mega conceived and curated this project in collaboration with Maurita Cardone and Chiara Mannarino. They called it DREAMERS and it included the work of over 40 artists in projections set up at multiple locations around the world.
Only now just got around to uploading a couple pics to Ganzeer.com, because I've been graphic-noveling and thus braincells are switching off too many too soon.
“Sabul had ceased to be a functioning physicist years ago; his high reputation was built on expropriations from other minds. Shevek was to do the thinking, and Sabul would take the credit.”
And then later:
“Shevek's career, like the existence of his society, depended on the continuance of a fundamental unadmitted profit contract.”
There's a high concept nugget of a story there. An analogy for the rebellious independence of a small nation state from the tentacles of colonialism told through the microcosm of a post-graduate “rebellion” within a university setting.
Le Guin's story isn't that, but that would be a story worth telling, as it is my understanding that much of how universities operate is in need of complete reimagining.
I wouldn't be the one to tell it though. This would require the expertise of someone neck deep in university life and that ain't me.
After a few days of thick impenetrable air, the skies have finally opened up this morning and the sun shines through. Though I am inside with two TSG pages worth of inks on the docket for today.
I am however resolved to step outside with a book at some point, and maybe even fit in some exercise and a visit to my chiropractor (it's been a couple weeks, not cool).
I need to get into the habit of treating my day the way I would a physical space. Like say, a closet or piece of luggage. It has a very particular capacity. Stuff it too much, and it just won't work.
Mystery Spring Packs packed and out to the post office. It is just after 4:00pm here, a little dead as a result of starting my day at 7:00am despite ending last “night” at 3:00am.
I've been graphic-noveling.
Prison Chart (a method I only recently picked up from Dave Gibbons' WATCHING THE WATCHMEN) tells me I am 7 pages away from wrapping up inks on this chapter.
But then there's scanning, lettering, and even coloring in some parts.
But after that I will only be 3 chapters away from finishing THE SOLAR GRID for good.
