[de] scriptions

Words, at once, consist of both truth and falsehood. Words on their own, have meaning and truth. As soon as they are strung together in language, they become a network of lies, things that mean other things, and are not as they first appear. Words can reveal many things which are not there, just as they can obscure things which are there. Lines too consist of Truth and falshood. They can describe things that exist as well as things imagined. They can reveal patterns and structure just as they can cover up the truth of a thing. What are things if they are not described by either lines or words. How can we know something exists if we cannot desceibe it in some way? Can anything truely exist without its description? Conversely, does anything truely exist if it can be described, since any description contains some falshood.

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For the Coming Season

I’m not normally one for holiday spirit, but I very much enjoy the changing seasons. I love waking up early on a morning when it has been snowing all night. When the air is still, and big snowflakes are falling silently to the ground, there is a pronounced peaceful quality in the air, and I cant help but smile to myself and think about how wonderful this season is.

Christmascard

Depressing Lunch

And on the few breaks between classes and homework, he ate his depressing lunch, It wasn’t really a lunch at all, it was more of a series of increasingly more painful exercises of abusive nutrition. Not that there was and real danger of nourishment, not of the body at least. It was the oppressive lack of any good taste whatsoever. To make matters worse, in an act of self deprecation, he ate it in order from most interesting to least, saving the worst, cold, dry, gluten-free stuffing with no gravy, for last. It was the icing, or lack thereof on the proverbial dry, crumbly, unsweetened, cake.

Half-Cities

The city of Sophronia is made up of two half-cities. In one there is the great roller coaster with its steep humps, the carousel with its chain spokes, the Ferris wheel of spinning cages, the death ride with its crouched motorcyclists, the big top with the clump of trapezes hanging in the middle. The other half city is of stone and marble and cement, with the bank, the factories, the places, the slaughterhouse, the school, and all the rest. One of the half-cities is permanent, the other is temporary, and when the period of its sojourn is over, they uproot it, dismantle it, and take it off, transplanting it to the vacant lots of another half-city.

And so every year the day comes when the workmen remove the marble pediments, lower the stone walls, the cement pylons, take down the ministry, the monument, the docks, the petroleum refinery, the hospital, load them on trailers, to follow from stand to stand their annual itinerary. Here remains the half-Sophronia of the shooting galleries and the carousels, the shout suspended from the cart of the headlong roller coaster, and it begins to count the months, the days it must wait before the caravan returns and a complete life can begin again.

– Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Representations of thought

Consider this: the written word

Realize the power of thoughts captured on paper

Ideas described, memories recorded, feelings reflected

The written word is heavier than the paper

The written word seems more real than the thought itself

 

Consider this: the moving picture

Compositions of moving light and color

Capturing a moment, but taking the place of one of the senses

Telling stories, images of the past

 

Consider this: the painted portrait

Capturing more than just reality, capturing the soul

Every stroke records a detail, never to be seen in a photograph

Captures something more real than reality

 

Consider this: the written note

Melody written without words

Vibrations of air, recorded as marks on paper

Simple and elegant, but dense and full of information

Meaningless without an instrument

Elegant symmetry

I recently had the privilege of studying some of Andrea Palladio’s seminal work in Vicenza. The father of the neoclassical style, Palladio mastered the art of symmetry and classical orders, simple proportions, and elegant design that was functional and very pleasing to the eye. 

Lines on a Page

Sometimes one reaches a point when experiences are far too much to process and express, in those cases, it is often best to execute a “memory dump” either writing or drawing (or whatever one’s preferred method of self expression) whatever random things are cluttering the mind, essentially clearing space for the experiences to be thoroughly processed. To some it may seem like gibberish, but it is an important step in the process, and for those who are looking, it can hold some secrete beauty.