Art Diary Dies!

It might have a shit name, but the pleased replacement 'Be Year 3' is available for abduction. Learn more by shoving your browser toward these co-ords:

http://beyear3.blogspot.com/.

Enjoy your weekend, [who/what/where/when/how]ever you are.

We are all alone in the Cultureverse.

Blogging was a nice phase.

Tusedae.

I wandered lonely as a clod, then *** came here and we went to town and had a food and then came back and went in the car and reached C_y and went to the Roman Museum and had a food and then left there and here I am now.

My love is so empty, look at what it has become:



I suppose that we all want a life like that.

Phrohm Wickypaedophile.

Nihilism, Self-consistency, and Paradox

Nihilism is often described as a belief in the nonexistence of truth. In its more extreme forms, such a belief is difficult to justify, because it contains a variation on the liar paradox: if it is true that truth does not exist, the statement "truth does not exist" is itself a truth, therefore showing itself to be inconsistent. A formally identical criticism has been leveled against relativism and the verifiability theory of meaning of logical positivism.

A more sophisticated interpretation of the claim might be that while truth may exist, it is inaccessible in practice, but this leaves open the problem of how the nihilist has accessed it. It may be a reasonable reply that the nihilist has not accessed truth directly, but has come to the conclusion, based on past experience, that truth is ultimately unattainable within the confines of human circumstance. Thus, since nihilists believe they have learned that truth cannot be attained in this life, they look upon the activities of those rigorously seeking truth as futile. However, this interpretation is open to the same criticism as above, since, barring mystical revelation, the only way the "truth" of nihilism can have been learned is from within the confines of human experience. An attempt at reconciliation may be made in the following way: I have logically deduced that I cannot obtain absolute truth (as opposed to logical truth) with logic. Thus, from the confines of human experience, I am convinced (by logical reasoning) that I cannot obtain absolute truth. The nihilist, then, cannot profess to know something absolute, but he can say that, in terms of the human method of problem solving (logical reasoning), absolute truth cannot be obtained by human logic.

Yes, man makes anything into anything. I will not be having a career in art because it simply lacks the depth that a 'depressing' job could bring. This stark view of the working world is a result of wanting to see millions of people hang for watching Big Brother instead giving their attention to global somethingismness.

Art history deserves big satire but satire is stupid crap stupid, even if 'genius' Peter 'miserable pissed to death smart-arse' Cook make lots of it. He was very funny and died. None of this matters, remember, none of us matter, remember, none of what we say matters, remember, we can have so much fun, remember. I think that I shall do something new later this week.

Smug, smug, wealthy cock, smug. Niiyaht.

Crunching mints and spitting the bits on a new carpet.

I have been spending pieces of my 'conscious existence' [really...aren't all estimations pretentious? Psycho-anything is certified moneybollocks] on the cyberinterweb, reading about things that did happen during the 1980 decade into the 1990 decade. One of those things, which in itself is proof that I care far more about personal politics [computer games] than any of that unreal celebrity power cack [all news is shite made for arsehole purposes] and also a direct portal to happy times in any time [meaning that my mental age is frozen at around twelve]. Perhaps I have developed into a keyboard aesthete, that would account for my fractured dress sense.

Without further self-everything marksmanship, this is the road to Theo's Grotto...

Do you not wish that you were as lucky as I am? Life is sky-size brilliant for giving me human life at a time when I can access this material. I wish that I was immortal, with infinite lives and a death option. I'd probably hang around the apocalypse ['our' fault - only united when we fuck up eh?] and piss on some dickheads then hold my breath and float, via space, to loads of other places and then die by swimming into the sun and speaking the death code. Remember that if everyone else in the world was dead, you would have no competition and you would be the best and the worst at everything. This is how I live my life, because nobody else is alive because another person's life is irrelevant. You only live yours, no matter what those dozy twats tell you at house parties. In fact, next time I am wrongfully jargoned by a spaced-up shithair I will do my best to cause a gentle mental collapse in them that results in several shrugs at the shrink house and one very long spell down the well.

Fuck all of those twits. They are almost as boring as that gallery was.

"Fite tha Mundayne".

Went Whitting. Saw ***. Came home. Ate a lovely dinner, thank you ***. I must confess that before any of this business I was working on something which was not strictly related to ART [it was music].

No dissertation efforts but lots of thoughts - doesn't everyone? Hahaha! *** and I will be involved in a shortened film hyperpathetically named Miracle Bay. It may not be romantic but it WILL be complete!

PS: Fuck conceptual art, this image shows enough about my tastes...you can ignore the character sprite if you prefer.



And yes, everything we think about is conceptual. Ergo fuck everything*.

* What a title for something that I will never make.

All about Chorlton.

Chorlton-cum-Hardy or Chorlton is a suburb of Manchester. It is situated about three miles south west of the city centre, on the crossroads of two main roads - A6010 Wilbraham Road & B5218 Barlow Moor Road. Chorlton was originally a separate village outside of the City but, along with Hardy Farm, became a part of the Manchester conurbation due to urban sprawl.

It is a separate area which should not be confused with Chorlton-on-Medlock, a different area in the centre of Manchester.

Chorlton likely derives from 'tún' (meaning farm, settlement or homestead) and 'ceorl' (meaning a freeman of the lowest class), giving us a full title similar to 'settlement of the peasants'. Hardy was an adjoining farm area probably meaning 'hard island' in Old English. These two parishes were brought together in 1555 with the Latin word cum (meaning with) used to seal the union.

Chorlton Green is a conservation area in a tranquil part of Chorlton, and is the last remaining vestige of the original village. Bull-baiting was introduced into Britain around the year 1209, and it remained active in Chorlton Green until it was made illegal in 1835. Now on hot summer days locals congregate and relax on the Green with refreshments from the adjacent pub, the Horse and Jockey.

The area is well-populated with creative people, with many artists, writers and actors based locally. Also, the Bee Gees spent their early childhood living on 51, Keppel Road, Chorlton, and the artist/musician Badly Drawn Boy currently lives in Chorlton. The Stone Roses were another Chorlton band, with guitarist John Squire living and working for Cosgrove Hall in the suburb. Mike Pickering, the M of M people lived on Ryebank Road. Another famous and long term resident of Chorlton-Cum-Hardy was the actress Doris Speed who lived in Sibson Rd. For over twenty years she played Annie Walker - the posh talking landlady of the Rovers Return in the ITV soap opera Coronation St.

Until the 1990s, Chorlton was largely a working class area. Whilst this is still true in many regards, the area has seen much gentrification and urban development, particularly around the Beech Road area. This was perhaps brought about by an influx of outsiders, such as students from the Manchester universities, many of whom chose to live in the area whilst studying and chose to stay in the area after graduation.

Chorlton is also known for Cosgrove Hall animation studios where Chorlton and the Wheelies (which get their name from the area) and Dangermouse were both created, amongst many other series.

Every year, Chorlton has a summer festival called the Beech Road festival, at the end of June, centred around the "Rec" (the recreational area just off Beech Road), Chorlton Green, Beech Road, the Horse and Jockey, and the Beech pub. A traditional tug-of-war game is played between teams from the all the older pubs around the area and stalls are set up the whole length of Beech Road.

Chorlton neighbours Stretford, Didsbury, Old Trafford, Fallowfield, Withington, and Whalley Range.

Chorlton ward is represented by three Labour councillors - Angela Gallagher, Sheila Newman, and Val Stevens.

We went to Kit's Coty House:



[This picture was from another person's camera]

I am going to this:



I live a life of variety. It is spicy.

Semantics after Eno.

I read this:

Semantics (Greek semantikos, giving signs, significant, symptomatic, from sema, sign) refers to the aspects of meaning that are expressed in a language, code, or other form of representation. Semantics is contrasted with two other aspects of meaningful expression, namely, syntax, the construction of complex signs from simpler signs, and pragmatics, the practical use of signs by agents or communities of interpretation in particular circumstances and contexts. By the usual convention that calls a study or a theory by the name of its subject matter, semantics may also denote the theoretical study of meaning in systems of signs.

Though terminology varies, writers on the subject of meaning generally recognize two sorts of meaning that a significant expression may have: (1) the relation that a sign has to objects and objective situations, actual or possible, and (2) the relation that a sign has to other signs, most especially the sorts of mental signs that are conceived of as concepts.

Most theorists refer to the relation between a sign and its objects, as always including any manner of objective reference, as its denotation. Some theorists refer to the relation between a sign and the signs that serve in its practical interpretation as its connotation, but there are many more differences of opinion and distinctions of theory that are made in this case. Many theorists, especially in the formal semantic, pragmatic, and semiotic traditions, restrict the application of semantics to the denotative aspect, using other terms or altogether ignoring the connotative aspect.

And remembered some of this:

BRIAN ENO lyrics - "King's Lead Hat"

Dark alley (dark alley) black star
Four turkeys in a big black car
The road is shiny (bright shine) the wheels slide
Four turkeys going for a dangerous ride
The lacquer crackles (black tar) the engines roar
A ship was turning broadside to the shore
Splish splash, I was raking in the cash
The biology of purpose keeps my nose above the surface (Ooh)
King's lead hat put the innocence inside her
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come.

In New Delhi (smelly Delhi) and Hong Kong
They all know that it won't be long
I count my fingers (digit counter) as night falls
And draw bananas on the bathroom walls
The killer cycles (humdrum), the killer hurts
The passage of my life is measured out in shirts
Time and motion (motion carried) time and tide
All I know and all I have is time
And time and tide is on my side
King's lead hat put the poker in the fire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come.

The weapon's ready (ready Freddy) the guns purr
The satellite distorts his voice to a slur
He gives orders (finger pie) which no-one hears
The king's hat fits over their ears
He takes his mannequin (tram line) cold turpentine
He tries to dial out 999999999
He dials reception (moving finger): he's all alone
He's just a figment on the telephone!
King's lead hat made the Amazon much wider
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was the poker in the fire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat put the innocence inside her
It will come, it will come, it will surely come.

I know now that all I care about is the pleasing exterior of the thing. All this theory is making me...oh goodnight.

Baudie and Benji.

Who the hell cares what either of these two clowns had to say?





In fact, Chucky Baudelaire and Walt Benjamin [represented in a reversed order] are famed for their thinking, writing and cleverness.

Charles Pierre Baudelaire(April 9, 1821 – August 31, 1867) was one of the most influential French poets of the nineteenth century. He was also an important critic and translator.

Walter Benjamin (July 15, 1892 – September 27, 1940) was a German Marxist literary critic and philosopher. He was at times associated with the Frankfurt School of critical theory, and was also greatly inspired by the Marxism of Bertolt Brecht and the Jewish mysticism of Gershom Scholem.

As you can see, they are both rather dead as of August 2006. An extra large cry of who cares? spills across the keyboard and mouse. I care. I care because these two verbally special human males gave us lots of ideas about people who walk around being pretensiously busy, in a way that I enjoy pretending to be myself. And should we, you and I, have reached a situation in which you are in a state of suspicion as to the verity of my claims, stick this up your fucking eyes:

"Flâneur" is a French word. A flâneur is a detached pedestrian observer of a metropolis, a 'gentleman stroller of city streets', first identified by Charles Baudelaire. The word has no exact equivalent in English. The concept of the flâneur is important in the work of Walter Benjamin, is important in academic discussions of the phenomenon of modernity, and has become meaningful in architecture and urban planning.

Around 1850, Baudelaire began asserting that traditional art was inadequate for the new dynamic complications of modern life. Social and economic changes brought by industrialization demanded that the artist immerse himself in the metropolis and become, in Baudelaire's phrase, 'a botanist of the sidewalk', an analytical connoisseur of the urban fabric. Because he coined the word about Parisians, the 'flâneur' (the one who strolls) and the 'flânerie' (the stroll) are associated with Paris and the kind of pedestrian environment which accommodates leisurely exploration.The Flâneur is typically well aware of his slow, leisurely behaviour and had been known to exemplify this state of being by walking turtles on leashes down the streets of Paris.

Walter Benjamin adopted this concept of the urban observer both as an analytical tool and as a lifestyle. From his Marxist standpoint Benjamin describes the flâneur as a product of modern life and the Industrial Revolution, unprecedented in history and definitely of a certain social class, parallel to the advent of the tourist. His flâneur is an uninvolved but highly perceptive bourgeois dilettante. Benjamin became his own prime example, gathering his social and aesthetic observations from long walks through Paris. Even the title of his unfinished Arcades Project comes from his affection for covered shopping streets.

In the context of current architecture and urban planning, designing for flâneurs is one way to approach issues of the psychological aspects of the built environment. Architect Jon Jerde, for instance, designed his Horton Plaza and Universal CityWalk projects around the idea of providing surprises, distractions, and sequences of events for pedestrians.

I will be buried in Wikipedia.

It's all fucking wank.

With image.

A bulge of hedgehog gut off the grubby pavement:



The diagrams shall live and the text shall die. Except for the titles.

A whole load of crap words part 100000.

From a flurry of A6 notelets:

extremes/contradictions/paradoxes/extensions/exaggerations/enhancements/embellishments/decoration

what is the purpose of academia?
what is the purpose of art?

what is not valid?

can anybody really own anything?

prove connections...
intelligent argument...
clear and concise...

'behaviour' in 'environment'

how are people different from each other?
from the quantifier/beholder/opinioneer/subjectifier?

universal metasubstance? debugging an argument? mass dissertation?

individual responsibility?
[name/reputation/experience/perspectives]
identity: limits and a basis?
[necessary in language?]
intellectual property laws

idea-theft-share: conscious/unconscious [honesty/truth/oblivion/denial/accident]

mass memory - who remembers the source?

head world, body world - are there exact divides?

entertaining/stimulating...

[I] enjoyed [it]
person product
consumer show
punter service
audience process
member
individual etc
viewer etc

Logic/formula
Opinion/perspective

Mass fact

eye/brain/product [what of other senses?]

To walk in...city [love constant change]

Identity in town [English town]
Identity in city [Cant/Manc]

Describing the experience of being [x] in [place].
Describing the experience of being [label] in [collective term].

How to stand out.
How to belong.
How to receive criticism.
How to treat anything with humour.

Subcultures etc. Tourists. Photographers. Visitors. Locals. Shoppers. Workers.

Observers aren't involved. Why? Everyone is involved. We're all here moving, join us, we're all strangers, judge us, make a scale.

In city media, the categoric descriptions are far more advanced than outside. Everyone belongs [this gibberish demands rational editing - read what you write or at least think about it first], semi-anonymous, there is so much mystery and room for imagination - faster by the day. You accept that you too exist among others. You are not isolated and tend not to be scrutinised, at least, not for long. You can carry your dreams and your self image solid. You are seen is snap shots. Through the middle, fast, out of the way. The feeling of 'safe' city centre suits me perfectly.

The scale of people - the things we love to see and be seen by - there is a comfortable maximum. That amount of time for which each person is visible - what is the optimum? Vanity and stories - what in a look cannot lie - these strangers with 'backgrounds', look into their eyes and allow unlimited assumptions. You can discard, edit and waste no paper in the process. There is a lot to be glad about in the centre of a city. You are definitely there, truely alive.

Whoops.

Walking? Who cares about that?

I am thinking about a wider set of words now - searching, that hunt for inspiration, the ability to steal, the mess of intellectual property and all such grey-area laws, sampling culture, digital equality of files, accessability magic. But that stuff is dull as fuck and has been looked at in all ways. Besides, I am not being asked to present a journalistic article about iLife. This is a DISSERTATION:

A thesis (literally: 'position' from the Greek θέσις) is an intellectual proposition. ----In academia, a thesis or dissertation is a document that presents the author's research and findings and is submitted in support of candidature for a degree or professional qualification.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissertation

How dare I pretend to give three boiled shits about this field of hypothetical pumpkin bollocks? The idea of bookish geniuses has melted my lust for ideas long enough. Yet more extreme imagination, a unwarrented prejudice that I created and revived for silly and lazy paranoid underdog purposes. It's good to have invisible enemies because you will never meet them and be proved wrong. Keep an exception at both ends. What about art searching though?

Back to my yesterday idea about everyone searching for something, what am I searching for? Identity? Truth? Something lasting and definite? I still find it hard to accept academic pursuits because words can never be facts and all the pedantry in the world still hinges upon artificial things that don't tend make me laugh or dance. Back to my yesterday idea. Art searches go all over the place, from the tiny walls of popular culture references to grown-up, black and white history books. It's all complete bollocks. Wouldn't you rather be having sex? But we are not just sex animals - we have big brains and a need for deep stimulus. Snigger.

So, sex and food are not enough and we are sophisticated beings capable of making ourselves seem far greater than mere catfish. We make clever art and invent logical theories that give society a golden shadow. What a bottomless crock. I can't be bothered wasting my life on complicating things until they become utterly lifeless any longer. I want to play table football in a thunderstorm and smoke Lucky Strikes on a plane. I want to walk into a club and get a nod from the manager. I want to be happy and far away from the deadly torture that I am told is adulthood. Fuck this.

Another Sack Of Sin.

Collecting, gathering, finding, seeking, discovering, wondering, wandering, meeting...why is this done? Because the only fact is that it is done, everything else is speculation, no matter how qualified. It is my reasoning that will get or lose me those vital points [academia is no better than a gameshow], it I will assume that this activity is a compulsion for some ['compulsion' could be another word, and words are ideas, and essays are made of both so you can see my philosophical dilemma at having to believe/believe in any of this, even though I could choose to] and as natural as breaking wind after a healthy feast. Let's say that we do it to use time in a way that we prefer and invent any old 'deep reason'. It all relates to how the individual feels about toys during infancy, were they replaceable...no it fucking doesn't.

Or does it?

Really, it is time for breakfast.

Beachcombing.

I threw the word 'beachcomber' into a online thesaurus's mouth and deposited some of the results below. Widening your definition can only be educationally gladdening.

Main Entry: loafer
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: idler
Synonyms: angishore, beach bum, beachcomber, bum, deadbeat, do-nothing, drugstore cowboy, goldbrick, good-for-nothing*, goof off, idler, indolent, lazybones*, lizard, lollygagger, lounger, malingerer, ne'er-do-well*, shirker, slacker, slouch, slug, slugabed, sluggard, wanderer, waster, wastrel
Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.3.1)
Copyright © 2006 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.
* = informal or slang

Main Entry: vagabond
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: wanderer
Synonyms: beachcomber, beggar, bum, deadbeat, derelict, down-and-out*, drifter, floater, gypsy, hobo, idler, itinerant, loafer, migrant, nomad, outcast, piker, ragbag, rascal, road agent, rogue, rolling stone, rover, stiff, stray, stumblebum, tramp, transient, traveler, vagrant, wayfarer
Antonyms: inhabitant
Notes: a vagabond refers to a person who leads a carefree, roaming existence; a vagrant ekes out a living by begging and is often considered a nuisance
Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.3.1)
Copyright © 2006 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.
* = informal or slang

Main Entry: wanderer
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: drifter
Synonyms: adventurer, beachcomber, bum, drifter, explorer, floater, gad*, gadabout, gallivanter, globe-trotter, gypsy, itinerant, meanderer, nomad, pilgrim, rambler, ranger, roamer, rolling stone*, rover, saddle tramp, straggler, stray, stroller, traveler, vagabond, vagrant, voyager
Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.3.1)
Copyright © 2006 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.
* = informal or slang

Main Entry: wave
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: sea surf
Synonyms: beachcomber, bending, billow, breaker, coil, comber, convolution, corkscrew, crest, crush, curl, curlicue, current, drift, flood, foam, ground swell, gush, heave, influx, loop, movement, outbreak, rash, ridge, ripple, rippling, rocking, roll, roller, rush, scroll, sign, signal, stream, surge, sweep, swell, tendency, tide, tube, twirl, twist, undulation, unevenness, uprising, upsurge, whitecap, winding
Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.3.1)
Copyright © 2006 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.

After all that hard work I think I need a day to recover. "Breakfast time" scream the teaspoons.

Don't they focus on the negatives, the filthy capitalist fools?