What is it about product or service that makes it different? In fifteen words or less.

The ability to not fit into any particular category and yet freely communicate with all.

I am an incongruous bastard. Skirting the peripheries and hearing all the juicy bits.

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What would you say?

We all have a wise person in our lives who said, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say then do not say anything at all”.  Let us expand on this very sound piece of advice to read, “If you haven’t got any thing of value to say then do not say anything at all”.  I will venture that it is nigh on impossible to get any two people to arrive at a consensus and agree what is of value. Of value to whom?
Can we say, for simplicity’s sake, that any random words set forth will eventually settle in a place wherein someone would find value in them. So to follow this logic means that whatever we say has some value, correct? Then let us throw open the shutters and stand before an open window shouting whatever we please. Oh wait, silly me, that’s what Facebook is for.  Facebook and the plethora of other platforms the world wide web gives us.

 

I would like you to come with me, here take my hand. We shall stroll over yonder, it’s not far, and we shall find a stage.  Step through these curtains, OK yes you may peek first if it pleases you. But please verify that there is no audience.  That’s right you have the entire stage to yourself.  Go forth and take your place front and centre, sans spotlight (this thing is already dramatic enough).

What is it that you would like to say? You may say or do whatever you please, go ahead, the acoustics are wonderful. You have the floor, uncontested but no audience.

What would you say if you knew no one was listening?

 

Writing for an audience

A puppy.

When I first started this blog I had no ambitions for it other than trying to sort through a stack of old notes collected from several dusty corners and crumpled under the seat in my car.  That I was using a public platform on which others i.e the public, who could read whatever I wrote was something I was not fully aware of. (Yes I do seem to have my head stuck up my arse at times) I was even less aware that it would dictate what I wrote about, as this was “my” blog, written for shits and giggles. Or was it?

In the space of a few weeks I have gone from punching out posts on whatever came to hand or mind to spending a lot of time thinking of what people may like to read about, is it topical and does any of make sense to anybody else save me? Anyone who visits this blog will know by the volumes of replies, followers and likes that it is widely read. Well perhaps not but that is entirely beside the point. The point is to provide something worthwhile to you my esteemed reader.

Super Cal, an esteemed reader. How many dudes you know go like this? Flow like this? Not many if any.

So I started to think I should write about topics with universal appeal.  But didn’t someone say once that you can’t please all the people all the time and by using such a broad brush I’d by liable to get paint everywhere and end up with nothing but mess.  Oh yeah I should find my niche, that’s what the how to guides say.  Find your niche. Find your Niche FiND YouR NICHE FIND YOUR NICHE. Aren’t niches supposed to be carved as opposed to being found? For if you find a niche that is already carved out you have to retrofit your ideas to make them fit neatly whereas by carving you have a chance to customise during construction.

 Niches carved not found.

So what’s my niche? No idea. Hence the category of “Assorted Ramblings”.  Anyway to sum up. I’ll just keep on digging (some posts will be good others like this one not so, but it’s got a picture of a puppy) and if you would like me to expand on something I’ve written about just let me know.

As always,

Your humble and obedient servant,

Dave.

 

 

 

The communication of woe. Are we just going round in circles?

Can we think our way out of the mess we are in? Are we really in such a mess? Is the world really going to hell in a hand basket or are we just better at communicating our woes? I seem to be devoting a significant amount of energy to these questions and so I shall try and put some meat on their bones.

Can we think our way out of the mess we are in?

Yes. This is something I really want to believe in. Even Vanilla Ice is trying to do his bit “If there’s a problem YO! I’ll solve it, check out this hook while my DJ revolves it.” But seriously, we humans a ridiculously smart. Far too smart some may say. Whatever challenges we are faced with somebody somewhere will come up with a solution. Then, not long after this others will expand on it thinking up more and more elegant solutions, simplified processes and on and on spawning new generations of answers. Then some of us will head down those back alleys and side streets of thought processes that I hold so dear and find all manner of related answers and questions for us to solve.

Are we really in such a mess?

I am going to thrust a flag into the top of this rampart and say no. NO. We are not sliding down a slope slippery, nor plunging headlong into the fiery abyss.  I can only remember back within my own lifetime and then not even the entire time but I can listen. Listen to our elders and the voices left by our forebears. Factories closing, investment down, crime up, living costs through the roof, predators lurking on every corner. Watch out! Arm thyself and be staunch, watch thy neighbor with suspicion and contempt.  Has there ever been a time when the shit was not about to hit or was in fact hitting the fan? We are so fearful, we, yes your humble narrator included. Scared of the future, the present, ourselves. It is constantly pumped into us. But there is hope. A very dear friend of mine once told me that he and his partner had chosen not to live in fear, and they don’t. Inspiring. They both are. Not going to succumb to the fear mongering.  I am yet to master that. Although of late my sword has stayed in its scabbard more often than not lately so I am making progress.

The communication of woe.

This idea will need to be fleshed out later, the reo is calling, work beckons. Can somebody continue this post for me?

Some people call me the space cowboy

Dodecahedron in bronze. Suspended over a mica/shellac composite light-box. One of my all time favorite pieces. 3rd year at uni, circa 2005.

In the background are some early explorations into using gunpowder as a medium. Was both shattered and blown away when I found Cai Guo-Qiang about a month after I began the experiments.  I actually wrote him fan mail, and asked if I could hang out with him if I was ever in New York. His staff wrote back and said I was more than welcome.

Haven’t got there yet. One day.

Be careful what you wish for.

While studying at university (Visual Arts) we used to have these things called group reviews. I think they were about once a month. Where the whole year level (about 15-20 students, not a big uni, no) would take turns presenting their work and receiving critique, comments and questions from the group and lecturers.  I was the common feeling that these were days to dread. But not I. Being the incongruous bastard that I am, I loved and looked forward to them.

Who would like to go first?  Group would recede pressing themselves into their seats. I would jump out of my seat, as happy as Larry and full of beans. It wasn’t displaying my work that got me all excited (I do tend to get excited like a child, hey it’s fun) it was what came next. The critique. A chance to verbally spar with my peers, be challenged, picked apart it was intellectual battle. It was why I went to university, and that is an rant all of its own.

I quickly learnt after a couple of these group reviews that this was not to be. Everybody was quick with the platitudes, scathing critique, no were to be seen. Everyone was so nice and lovely and there were fluffy bunny’s that hopped about through fresh green grass spotted with rainbows and candy canes.  It was not war but a love fest.

So I changed tack, that’s right readers, I displayed some fucking adaptability. (If you missed an earlier post that’s my favorite quote from my favorite book so I do like to use it) I decided to go last and all day long would ask most awkward questions(this spun off into an entire semesters work and yes I am bracket crazy today)I could think of.  Challenging my peers in hope that by the end of the day they would collectively think “stuff this bloke, let’s hammer him”. But no, nothing, narda, nix.

When I queried my mentoring lecturer about this, I received a question in response. Why are all your ideas wrapped up so tight and why are you in such a hurry? BAM!!!!! Knocked me flat on my arse. I didn’t have an answer to this. I had nothing, narda, nix.  I staged a tactical retreat and nursed my wounds, thinking and thinking and thinking. Stumped. Was for years.

Until the other day.

Ideas wrapped up so tight?

I spend a great deal of time preparing my work and my thoughts about it. Researching and doing my homework. Stepping outside myself to probe my own work for holes and gain an objective view. All this results in ideas that are well formed and considered. Ideas being wrapped up tight seems to have a negative connotation. This was an excellent question.

Why am I in such a hurry?

Because the clock is ticking, the world is spinning and time waits for no man (or woman). I don’t have all the time in the world, could have yes, but may be dead tomorrow. So if I piss today up the wall maybe I don’t get tomorrow.  Yes yes, by all means make time to smell the roses, stop and ponder things and enjoy the beauty of a sunrise, but get moving again and keep the ball rolling.

 

Poor little confused and bewildered me.

It’s Stuff not art. Can I call this art? I feel much happier calling it stuff. The more and more I see art, talk to people about it and read about it, the more I am confused.  Seriously, what the hell are you on about? Please come around and un-confuse me. Would love to see you.

I’m cringing as I write this, seems I’ve been having this dilemma forever.

The constant battle between slow full stops and 80’s cock rock.

Pretty bad haircuts and worse facial hair.

My tongue stuck firmly in my cheek. Stuck in so, so deep.

 

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Hope you enjoyed this collection of stuff. Stuff. Art. Stuff. Art. Stuff. Art. Stuff. Art.