Archive for February, 2012
Friday, February 24th, 2012
People are printing good pictures to put in albums of instant gratification on the internet. Biographies of ivy-treated youth promise opening of understanding about travels and upending moments over greatest pictures are those you keep in your wallet because they can be old bins for long ago memories of others and yourself. Isn’t it odd that using photos as understanding nicer moments in your life eventually places you more in your past? Holding it keeps youthfulness in your present. Kodak moments live on as people print their photos so let’s bring back the Polaroid.
Issued a Polaroid camera when I was younger, I learned to shoot pictures of people looking at my lens with perplexed, poorly oriented towards the, directly in-the-person’s face flash, expression. I wanted the person’s face to open up to the camera in a pleasantly surprised way, occupying the space of the image, painting our perceptions of the person’s characteristics in a solely positioned to imprint on memory way. Now the rituals of neatly, easily pulling out a print from the camera have been replaced, not with a quicker process but only with one with more steps involving computers, little memory sticks, and lots of wasted paper. Printing my photos takes time now and learning to place them in my paintings, lopping off positions on the canvas to display them, is copping a plea to artistic originality. Yes, taking the steps of pushing the technology cart tidies the process of making art but isn’t a slew of messy materials the link to making masterpieces.
Thursday, February 9th, 2012
Pal Tracy and I paper the internet with our oven-roasted, party-punched words of wisdom about people with disabilities and picking up cues in their potential to communicate through the supported use of keyboards and voice output machines like the iPad. Getting interested in our words opens the door to looking at movie stars inspiring people to see more the soul of actors rather than their ordered, slickly hair and clothes.
When people like, prattling on like an out of control parrot, Mitt Romney, appearing popstar-like, paper the news with their positions on poorer people, get rallies of tea partiers going, and insinuate that loss of prosperity is a character flaw, they leave the station of understanding and move to a platform of intolerance I thought only existed out of the slavery era. Outrage very quickly builds into a loud roar of opposition in my, proud to need government services, person with, looking like newsworthy leader in the disability world of nifty advocacy, Tracy on board with me.
Look, I am probably not your best perpetrator of political commentary but easily, I am nothing short of being Walter Conkritesque compared to Rush Limbaugh.
Friday, February 3rd, 2012
Topping our own movie appearance standards last week was the showing of our film last week at the Big Picture Theater in Waitsfield, Vermont. Needing mouthwatering burgers to go with our movie popcorn, we ate kind of early dinner in the theater restaurant and later, after the movie, looked like movie star leading men taking questions from the, practically buying beers for us on the spot, audience. It might not be a warm place to walk around in but possibly Vermonters, in the winter, clap the loudest for wretches-in-arms, Tracy and Larry.
I am past Pascal’s paying me to pose for your staring at movie star pleasure. The bigger issue is noted Tracy’s leading man, posturing to look like another version of Michael Jackson in listed as best work, party music, all classic soul dance number, Thriller. The noteworthiness of owning picture of Tracy is that he makes opportunities to communicate ideas with him a movement towards looking at learning to advocate for oneself as a greater vocation than cleaning parquet floors and doing dishes in a restaurant.
Others would say that he owns property on island of presumption of competence in Syracuse University because of his looking at mental capacity as a function of the natives of the speech world accepting immigrants from the non-speech world into, knotty with mostly negative beliefs, normal society.