Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Trade Them in Daily

Cherie in the Stairwell looking out Window at Parking Garage.

As I look over the old images I realize that they must become new images. The images, though digitized, are still maleable. Only now the ink is no longer like ink, it has become like charcoal, only my fingers do not get dirty. I have never liked getting my fingers dirty with pastel or charcoal.

This old image became new. Soon I will forget what the old image ever looked like. The image should undergo an evolution like this, until it has been deemed correct by the creator or alterer. Of course, correct is a completely subjective term. But so is the Plaza of the Mind.

It is my mind. It is subjective. It can be no other way.

I have created thousands of images. They are in a large file setup waiting to be corrected and displayed. Soon all of the images will be corrected. They will come closer and closer to the image that was originally in my mind's eye. When the image transcends print space and enters into the tactile I will know that I was successful.

This image is almost there but it may need more work.

I will not stop until I can no longer continue.

That is my promise to you, and more importantly, to myself.

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From the Outer Channel Mission Statement:

This is the important and the trivial - a distinction that seems to get more and more blurred with every breath I take. I hope you enjoy seeing what interests, inspires and entertains me.

It may also interest those at the Plaza of the Mind to see what gets stopped at the gate and what gets pushed through [albeit usually in a different form].

Kurt Weller

The Outer Channel

Coming Soon!

Graffiti of Kurt Weller Hip Hop Experiment

-Scratch-

+Stab+

+Stab+

Scratch

Breakdown

Rhyme

Girl got curves like Miss Della Reese
I'll be walking down your street like Mister Gary Sinese

Paul's Case

Willa Cather had something with this story.

Paul steals some money and runs off to the big city to enjoy the arts until he is discovered and he then kills himself.

I used to be a janitor at a large auditorium at the college. I would stand on the stage and look out at all of the seats and imagine putting on some sort of show.

I had seen a girl perform with her cello on that stage a few years earlier.

There is something to be said for the romance of the talentless Paul, who only wants to surround himself with sensitive artisans, running away from his father though he knows there is no way he will be able to maintain this lifestyle.


That sort of describes University - without the suicide of course, but basically hopeless, romantic and unable to sustain itself.


I feel as though I am peering out of my eyes from deep within a snowy cave.

I interact and everything the same as usual but I think that if anyone were to look carefully they would see that something strange has developed.

More on this later.