Passion vs. Practicality

If someone were to ask me, what do you love doing?
   I would probably answer, "Art and science."
Well those aren't things to DO, they are subjects. What do you love doing?
  "Right now, I love wood burning. It's the art of using wood, and drawing on it with a really hot pen. I also enjoy teaching science at the high school level."
So what do you want to do with the rest of your life? 
   "I want to have a good job."
Doing what?
    "Something I enjoy. Teaching seems like the most practical."

But in all honesty, I really like art. I forgot how much I liked it while I slogged through a four year degree in Science. At one point during high school I remember sitting myself down to course selection, and scrapping my crafts class for a more practical physics class. Do I regret that? Not really.

Because it's not practical.

There are few jobs available to the artist. Who, in an economic downfall, wants to pay one hundred dollars for something to simply decorate the wall? In the world where pop art and prints are available at Dollarstores and Walmarts all over the country, and photos are merely a click away online, why do you need an artist?

I didn't want to go to school for it, I didn't want to ruin my passion with lectures, theory, art history, and the bureaucracy of post secondary education. Plus, it's not practical. Spend 4 years in an arts major just to end up with maybe a job? I wonder what percentage of art school graduates actually end up with a studio somewhere with rich patrons casually strolling through sipping wine?

Art is my sanctuary from my work. I can't really make it into a business that I need to produce something to put food on my table because then it would become work! I wonder if I would start writing papers and reading essays to distract me from my art then?

Doubt it.

Now you've read my rant, check out my tumblr. 

You can also follow me on twitter if you want updates whenever I post a new pic to the tumblr.

To Russia, with love

I recently realized... there's someone in Russia that has visited my blog.
Actually, hits from Russia make up 3.4% of my overall page view history.

I have to wonder if it's an accident, but 96 page views can't just be an accident, right?
So to my Russian viewers, I say

Добро пожаловать!  как ты меня нашел??

I honestly don't know much about Russia aside from the matryoshka dolls, the beautiful buildings in Moscow, and the stereotypical alcoholic beverage of choice. 

I'd like to hear back from my readers, but perhaps you don't have an account and can't leave comments. But by now, everyone has Facebook, right?

Click here to like the Facebook page if you haven't already!

Leave comments, criticism, or suggestions!

Unsurprisingly the majority of views comes from Canada and the US. Actually most of these views are likely just from my close friends. But thank you to everyone who does check my blog, it'll never be as famous as Hyperbole and a Half, but it's still fun to write!

Thanks!

Graffiti, Turtles, and Good Advice

Continuing my tales of exploring London... to read the first edition of this, click here.

I left the farmhouse and continued bicycling around the city. I came across an abandoned building with an open door swaying in the breeze. The glass had been smashed out and lay on the stoop in a pile of geometric fragments. 

I went inside to see what I could find. It was a roughly round building with a cone shaped roof. A small rectangular back room extended to the west side, but it was dark and smelled of decay so I dared not to tread too deep. In the tiny room that served as a bathroom, the only remaining feature was an oval mirror. It smiled back at me as I took it off the hook it hung on. The abandoned office sported a collapsing ceiling and a mouldering armchair.
I thought this might be the napping place of a passing-through wanderer, so I left him a cheery greeting.
One eye of the smiling face had dripped, and it seemed to me that it might be crying as well.

In the main room, I could see that someone had read the Dark Tower by Stephen King. This is a series of very long novels and a personal favorite. Written in what appeared to be lipstick, or nail polish was "Oh discordia" and a common tagline found in the book, "Bangoskank was here".

I'm glad I'm not the only one who appreciates those books.











I rummaged around a while longer. I had determined it had been a gardening shop. A sticker that held together some shards of broken glass from the window proclaimed that they had been a member of some Ontario landscaping association. I also found a red hexagonal sticker clinging to it's own glass. It proclaimed, "STOP! Contents marked for quick identification by polica break, enter and theft. Maximum penalty life imprisionment"

I find it humorous that I found this while I was exiting the building, and suddenly felt like I should leave.

Back on the road, I had to swerve suddenly to avoid a carcass of an unfortunate roadkill victim. And then another. And another! I found nine dead painted turtles, there they are standing in a row. Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head. (Okay maybe not that big).
They all lay at the edge of the busy roadway in various states of decomposition. Now I will have it stated, that this species of turtle has been designated as a "Specially Protected Reptile" under the Ontario Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act which offers protection to individuals but not their habitat.

As if to illustrate this, I turned around to see where these poor unfortunate souls had come from, and a large sign proclaimed "PRIME LAND FOR DEVELOPMENT". I didn't know whether to throw up, or cry.
London seems to be a city that is growing up and over a rich natural land. I said once to a friend that my first impression is London is a mutant hybrid of city, suburbia, countryside, and landfill (sorry to say it, but there is a lot of litter).

As if to prove my point,while I climbed a small mountain of grey earth behind a shopping plaza, I found a discarded backpack with it's contents strewn about and caked with dry mud. It looked like the remains some thief had left behind after rummaging out all of the "good stuff". The one item that caught my eye was a small stone square with a leather cord. A piece of white paper listed, what seemed to me as the 10 commandments. However, upon closer inspection, I think they are really just pieces of good advice. What I could make out is:
6.
7. ........................................ on Sundays.
8. You shall respect your peers their suggestions
9. You shall not cheat on your spouse
10. You shall respect the environment that you live

Last but not least, a throwback to my Sweeny Todd reference... I passed by an interesting barber shop. Even If I had a beard to shave, I don't think I would be a patron there.

 

There's no place like London

 I have sailed the world,
beheld its wonders
from the Dardanelles,
to the mountains of Peru,
But there's no place like London!

 No, there's no place like London...

For those of you who enjoy musicals, those are the lines from the first song in the movie Sweeny Todd. The song continues to really bash the city of London, England.

Personally I have recently been stationed to London, Ontario. It has been an interesting first week! I have done some exploring, bicycling around the city and looking for...well... something to find. My favourite things to find are the forgotten places. I suppose that fits well with the title of my blog.

While traveling along a major road, I noticed a dirt road that led to this lovely old bridge that spanned over the railroad tracks.
Note: if I had taken this photo from a higher vantage you would be able to see a multitude of siamese-twin roofs that are the hallmark of suburbia

Ignoring the signs warning about the dangers of crossing, I walked across the ancient bridge and saw the dirt road led to an old house that had been boarded up. Across the driveway was the remains of a barn that had been burned to the ground. Only one wall remained standing and behind this was a cacophony of old hay and blackened wooden struts. This wall was white, and adorned with sharpie quotations left by some rogue poet.

 

I climbed down into the jumble of burnt lumber and litter and looked around.

Perhaps most people would see trash, but I always find treasure. On a lid from a large metal drum I noticed a burned book. Upon closer inspection, I found it was Holy Bible.

At random, I chose one page and pocketed it. I read it later, when I was less creeped out, and some interesting quotes jumped out at me. I am not a religious person, but I you will never hear me say that there is no benefit to theology.

        24 Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go:

        25 Lest thou learn his ways, and get a snare to thy soul. 

       12 Apply thine heart unto instruction, and thine ears to the words of knowledge.

However, I will draw the line when it comes to quotes like this following one, it just gives me the creeps.

        17 Let not thine heart envy sinners:but be thou in the fear of the LORD all the day long.

(When I Googled these quotes I found that they come from the King James version,

and that these are proverbs, if you care to know.)

I also found some smashed crystal-ware, and I photographed it because I loved the contrast of fine crafted beauty smashed against the rocks.

My favourite item to be found near this husk of a barn was a very rusted treasure chest. Or a trunk? Whichever you want to call it, depending on your imagination. At the bottom of the chest was a dark blue crushed velvet dress, thrown in a heap of disarray.



It had a fine fake silver clasp below the breasts and the neckline was adorned with silver beadwork, which was haphazard now and tearing apart. It looked more like moth-eaten, cheap costume apparel than a lady's dress.  I dropped it back to it's hiding place when a small spider crept onto my hand. (Bleck!)

Still shaking my hand, I left the property and bicycled back over the bridge. As I went over it, a train with many cars and tankers sped below me. Once they had passed, I couldn't resist the temptation to go check out the tracks, and also to snap a cliche photo of myself. 

More to come! I have some more photos and I plan to continue exploring

London's secret places in hiding over the next few months. Cheerio!

Shameless Self Promotion

I haven't posted in a long time!

I've been busy making things in real life instead of online. You can check out my projects at my
tumblr page.




 
One of my projects has been working with Travis Cranmer. You can check out his website at earthdesign.ca


My addition to his awesome birdhouses has been wood burning! I have finished ~15 houses, each with a unique design AND the latin name of the organism on the bottom. I have only posted photos of the plants so far, but will post pictures of the bird designs that I have recently done soon.

If you are really interested in purchasing such a work of art (shameless self promotion), contact Travis through his website. We can likely work in a custom design of your favourite native Canadian plant or animal.

I'm moving tomorrow, but once I get settled in my new place I will likely be able to write again, and more regularly. Wish me luck! I will be starting teacher's college in a few weeks!

The Lover's Crucifixion

He stood only feet from her.
She would not or could not look his way.
Fine fabrics with ornate gold trim embraced her,
Delicate chains of gold and silver glittered against her skin.
He tried his best to catch her eye, feeling like a foolish cock romancing a peacock.
As she slowly turned toward him, his heart soared to the sky.
Her steps were measured as she walked his way.
He could barely contain his racing heart.
After all of this time, this is IT.
She paused momentarily a few feet away.
He took a deep breath, and felt like he was under water.
He would drown in this moment if she did not take a few more steps into his open arms.
Her eyelids fluttered, and gracefully lifted a dainty hand
To her red full lips. His heart might break.
Will she will call the to guards?
The fat lazy men employed to carry spears.
They had not seen him slip through the servant's door but
Would they see this dangerously public display of affection for their employer's daughter?
He had been holding his arms open to embrace her for hours.
He recalled a tale of crucifixion and thought,
This is how the man Jesus died.
No. He had only been frozen a few seconds.
She parted her lips slightly, moving them to form a silent word.
Hidden from her father by her raised hand, gloved in a pale pink fabric that could be silk.
His arms dropped limply so his sides, and she turned to the crowd.
His eyes darted around the room, searching.
What he needed now was a clock.
Embarrassed by his foolishness, he fidgeted. 
Of course she couldn't run to him, and expose their  love to Them.
She wouldn't ruin the elaborate Debutante Ball her father held in her honor. Not until "Midnight"

Animated!

Hope you enjoyed my gifs, I'm loking at making a bit of a cartoon at some point!