No, translating it doesn't help it make sense [unless you actually know some crispy grannies from Germany]. An excess of research into the work of Max Ernst in a search for an online image of Nature at Daybreak has left me in a decidedly Dadaist/Surrealist frame of mind.
Which is good, actually; as the wheel of the year turns [to use a much-overused Neopagan metaphor] toward autumn and winter, my artistic constipation is clearing. I've done a little work on a new piece involving the use of leaves as printing elements; I paint the leaf with acrylics, put it facedown on the watercolour paper, and hand-rub it to transfer the paint, removing the leaf quickly so the paint doesn't have time to dry and actually stick the leaf down. [Watercolours wouldn't stick like that, but Nature decided leaves should be water-repellent, so w/c simply beads up on them.] The same leaf can be used over and over again, and you can print multiple layers of colour onto the same spot if you're careful and can line up the leaf with the previous print. The leaf can also be used as a mask for sprayed-on washes, or later as a collage element. The uniqueness of each leaf's shape adds an organic element to the work, and the repetition of the shape enhances the unity of the piece. It's still in the very early stages, and I haven't worked much with w/c and acrylic in the same piece, so it will be exciting to see how it turns out.
Other various occurrences:
~It was an incredibly muggy night last night. The windows of the cafe downstairs, and the panes of my downstairs door's window, neither of which have ever fogged up to my knowledge, were running with moisture. The vending machine at work was full of condensation. Paper soaked up so much moisture that it was limp, and you could barely write on it. It was so misty that the sidewalks and streets were slick without any discernible rainfall.
I mention this because conditions like these are ideal for the appearance of spirits. The supervisor said he'd seen some kind of human figure, dressed all in black, leave the back room where the material is kept, and close the door behind it. The mold tech verified that the door had been open. One of the operators also said that he kept getting the impression that the supervisor was standing behind him, but he would turn and nobody would be there.
I didn't see or sense anything unusual last night, but I have on many occasions heard footsteps or thought I'd seen somebody out of the corner of my eye, only to find nobody there. Some of the footsteps are, I'm sure, due to the acoustics of the building; but I don't imagine there's a whole lot of room for echoes in a place that's stacked all over with randomly staggered rows of cardboard boxes of differing heights and widths. The staging area near my office makes excellent sound cover. There aren't many, if any, places that a sound could bounce off of without being broken up. And when I'm very tired, I do occasionally see "bugs" out of the corner of my eye [I'm sure it's not a symptom of a psychosis; my conscious mind has been active too long, its settings are wonky, and it just needs a shutdown, a rest and a reboot]. But the "bugs" are a known signal that my brain is tired; thinking I see a person out of the corner of my eye isn't the same hallucination at all, if indeed it is a hallucination. I've suspected for a while that the place is haunted, either by a spirit or simply by all the residual energies of the people who have worked there...or maybe by both. In any case, spirits have a much easier time manifesting when there is moisture in the air, and when the temperature is warmer, both of which conditions were present. And does the veil between the Seen and the Unseen become more permeable at Samhain? If so, could weather conditions be part of it?
~Speaking of the dead, I was in the checkout line at the store looking at the covers of some of the tabloids. Now, these publications aren't famous for having an excess of shame, but Christopher Reeve is barely in the goddamn ground. Do they really have to print stories about his wife's supposed affair [because, you know, women just NEED it, can't LIVE without it, and if hubby is paralysed, wifey simply must go elsewhere to scratch her itch--blecch] and the theory that his death was a suicide? I mean, stories about trailer-park queens in Nebraska being healed by Batboy and giving birth to his lovechild or whatever are funny. Stories about people seeing the BVM in their bowl of cream of tomato soup are funny. This...this just turns my stomach. This isn't entertaining. It's just loathsome and malignant. I don't know what nauseates me more: that they think that's going to sell papers, or that it probably will sell papers.
~Amp over at Alas, A Blog has asked fellow bloggers to link to this post about the upcoming vote in Oregon about Measure 36, an anti-gay-marriage amendment. The spin surrounding the measure seems to have come down to a claim that telling schoolchildren the definition of homosexuality is the same thing as teaching gay sex in schools, as though explaining the definition of the word is equivalent to handing out copies of "Fisting for Dummies"; and that, for that reason, gay marriage should be banned. Which is a] untrue and b] completely brain-damaged. So that's my small part in helping get the word out about the asinine histrionics of the anti-gay-marriage people in Oregon.
~I will not sleep decently until this election is over. If the unthinkable happens, I might not sleep well for a while. Earlier this week, I literally had a nightmare that Bush won. But the suspense is driving me batshit, even over the usual level of Shrub botheration, and the campaign flyers aren't helping. I hope the Republicans know the only reason their damn flyers are going in the recycle is that they're too stiff to wipe my ass with or flush decently. You mark my words: As soon as that bungling snatchburglar is out of office, whenever that happens, my blood pressure will go down by about 15 points. [Unless, of course, he leaves office in the middle of his term and Cheney steps in. Then you can expect an increase of the same amount.] I bet my damn acid reflux will go away too.
~Tomorrow is the last swim class before winter. I won't be signing up for another class until probably April, when everything's melted [unless global warming really gets a move on and we just don't have a winter here]. I found a Speedo brand swim cap that actually fits without restricting the blood flow to my brain and popping halfway off when I move my head. I'll give 'er a go. If it should come off and my hair get chlorine in it again...well, hopefully the vitamin E treatment will work as well as it did last time.
~Halloween cookies are yummy. mmmmmm...
Enough blathering...
same bitch time, same bitch channel...
Quote for the day: "What the fuck would I want to be in charge of my Social Security for? That's not my job. I don't know how to do that shit! And in case Bush is wondering, I don't want to have to deliver my own mail, either."--That one guy from Get Your War On [p. 40]
Posted by Frida Peeple at October 29, 2004 01:57 PM