Filed under: Art, Comics, Humor, Marketing, Science Fiction, Society, Space, UFO
. . . the Masons, Greys, Studebaker, Coast to Coast, Bigfoot, and Evil Tofu have in common?
From his merchandise page:
Studebaker had contracts to make aircraft engines during the second world war as well as making the weasel and a duce and a half truck. So , Studebaker was already part of the military-industrial complex that President Eisenhower talked about. When the UFO crashed in Roswell in 1947, Eisenhower signed the treaty with the aliens 1954, who better to use back engineered technology to produce UFOs than a struggling automobile company who had a record of government contracts going back to the Civil War and was already in the “inside”? Besides that, the design of Studes were much more aerodynamic than any other marquee and UFOs should be “slippery” when traveling through the air shouldn’t they? So once again, Studebakers come to the front of the line. A logical progression?
Indeed. I came across this web comic a week or so ago, and shared it with a few friends. But I wanted to wait until I had a chance to get through all the current strips (about 160) before I posted something about it. It’s quite good, very funny and well drawn (no surprise since the artist/author has a solid resume of work as an animator/director). Bugsport is done in a classic style, drawing heavily on adverising motifs and pop culture (there’s all kinds of visual and textual references – more than I am probably catching). You can probably just dive right in with the latest strip, but then you’d be missing all the wonderful stuff that he has already done.
Give it a try. And someone please put up a Wikipedia article about Bastien and/or Bugsport, OK? I mean, seriously, if I have one this guy certainly deserves one.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Fireworks, Humor, Music, N. Am. Welsh Choir, Patagonia, Society, Travel
As you might recall, I’m joining my wife for the North American Welsh Choir tour of Patagonia the second half of next month. Part of that trip will include several days in Beunos Areas. So, seeing this news item this morning caught my attention:
Angry Argentine commuters torch train in rush hour
BUENOS AIRES (Reuters) – Furious rail commuters in Argentina set fire to a train on Thursday in anger over delays during the morning rush hour.
Television images showed black smoke and flames engulfing the train at the station of Merlo, in the western suburbs of the capital, Buenos Aires. At nearby Castelar, passengers hurled stones at the ticket office and blocked the rails.
“We understand that people get angry when the service is delayed or canceled, but they absolutely can’t attack a public service in this way,” Gustavo Gago, a spokesman for rail company TBA, told local television.
Now, I’m a bit of a pyromaniac. Always have been – perhaps it goes with being born of the Fourth of July. But setting fire to a train? Youza. Out of my league.
Maybe they’ll stage such an event for us tourists next month, to welcome the Choir? I’ll have to ask my wife what would be the appropriate song for them to perfom on such an occasion…
Jim Downey
Filed under: Artificial Intelligence, Babylon 5, General Musings, Humor, J. Michael Straczynski, JMS, Predictions, Science Fiction, Society, tech
As noted previously, I’m a big fan of the SF television series Babylon 5. One of the things which exists in the reality of the series is the ability to erase the memories and personality of someone, and then install a new template personality. This is called a “mindwipe” or “the death of personality.” It’s an old science fiction idea, and used in some intelligent ways in the series, even if the process isn’t explained fully (or used consistently).
Well, I’m about to mindwipe my old friend, the computer here next to this one. It’s served me faithfully for over seven years, with minimal problems. But old age was starting to take a real toll – I could no longer run current software effectively, and web-standard tech such as modern flash applications caused it a great deal of difficulty. The CD player no longer worked, and the monitor was dark, bloated. One side of the speaker system had quit some time back. My phone has more memory, I think – certainly my MP3 player does.
So, about six weeks ago I got a new computer, one capable of handling all the tasks I could throw at it. It allowed me to start video editing, and was perfectly happy to digest my old files and give them new vigor. The monitor is flat, thin, and quite attractive. It plays movies better, and will allow me to archive material on CD/DVDs once again. The laser mouse is faster and more accurate, and I’ll never have to clean its ball. Both sides of the sound system actually work. There’s more memory than I can possibly ever use . . . well, for at least a couple of years, anyway.
And today I finished migrating over the last of my software and data files. I’d been delaying doing this, taking my time, finding other things I needed to double check. But now the time has come. There is no longer a reason for me to keep my old system around. In a few moments I will wipe its memory, cleaning off what little personal data is on there. And in doing so, I will murder an old friend. A friend who saw me through writing Communion of Dreams, who was there as I created a lyric fantasy, who kept track of all my finances during the hard years of owning an art gallery. A friend who gave me solace through the long hours of being a care provider. A friend who allowed me to keep contact with people around the world, who brought me some measure of infamy, who would happily play games anytime I wanted (even if it wouldn’t always let me win).
So, goodbye, my old friend. I will mindwipe you, then give you away to someone else who needs you, who will gladly give you a home for at least a while longer, who will appreciate your abilities as I no longer can.
Farewell.
Jim Downey
Here’s a fun little thing I thought I would pass along: the visual recreation of Washington, D.C. in the spring of 1814. Using a combination of historical documents, paintings, maps, geological surveys, mixed with state-of-the-art imaging technology, they’ve created a short digital reconstruction. Nice use of technology and solid scholarship.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Book Conservation, General Musings, Health, Sleep, Weather
I’m afraid that Hillary will need to continue to cope with chaos here on the homefront. This morning we did have the people from the auction company come and haul away the better part of a truckload of furniture and boxes – boxes which we’d been working the last couple of days to fill with various kitchen items, dishes, silverware, china and glass. The place is a lot less piled high with boxes, but now we need to move into the next phase of rearranging furniture into its more-or-less final configuration.
Gods, I am so ready to be done with this. Between moving my wife’s office here home and getting things ready for the auction, I’ve not accomplished any conservation work in too long. And I’ve tapped into my reserves too much – now I am feeling tired, worn out. It shows in my uninspired writing, too. In spite of the desire to just get things done, I may well take a long nap today. With the remnants of Gustav rolling through here for the next couple of days, it feels like a good time to nap.
So, more, later. Hopefully stuff more interesting than reports on how chaotic my life is.
Jim Downey
These stupid monkeys! Why can’t they leave well enough alone? Sheesh, every time I come down from a nap, I find that they’re once again playing with space. Moving furniture here, only to move it back there a couple of days later. Boxes – lovely, empty, mysterious boxes, perfect for playing in – all filled up with pointless glasses and dishes, then stacked high in the front room so that I can’t even get to sharpen my claws on the back of that ugly old couch. And every time I go to supervise their work, sitting quietly in the middle of the floor so that I can properly observe what they’re doing, they shoo me away (if I’m lucky – if not, one of the big oafs will attempt to step on my tail or something). Even the idiot, drooling dog has the good sense to hide when they get going.
Sheesh. Well, maybe in all the moving and changing space, they’ll turn up a nice mouse for me to play with . . .
Hillary
As mentioned in my previous post, we were gone for the weekend. Went to Chicago, for a rehearsal of the North American Welsh Choir prior to our Patagonia trip in about 6 weeks. No, I wasn’t singing – I leave that to my wife. If you heard me sing, you’d understand why.
Anyway, since she was going to be busy all day Saturday with the rehearsal, I decided to pop out and spend a bit of time in Chicago. That’s always easy for me to do, since Chicago is one of the great cities of the world and I know it reasonably well. This time I opted to take the public transportation down to the Museum of Science & Industry, which I haven’t visited in at least 30 years.
The choice of taking public transport was probably not the most efficient one, in terms of maximizing my time at the museum. But I did so for a fairly simple reason: I had never done so in Chicago, and I wanted to exercise my skill at navigating an unknown system “cold”, so to speak, prior to going to Argentina next month. I’m usually pretty good at using such systems, but it has been a couple of years since I had to do so, and I thought a brief refresher would be a good idea. It went fine.
So I eventually got to the Museum, waited in line for my ticket, went in to the exhibits. There’s a lot to see there, and I may write about a couple of things in the next few days. But the one exhibit I particularly enjoyed seeing up close was their reproduction of the Wright Flyer.
No doubt you know the story of this small biplane, and the history that Orville and Wilbur Wright made with the original 105 years ago. You may have even seen the original or one of the reproductions on TV or on display somewhere. But have you ever been up close to it? It’s fascinating to see how simple it is in construction and design. Wandering around, looking at it on my own (the display was basically ignored by the mass of kids with parents in tow, who were more interested in the more ‘high tech’ displays in the museum), for the first time it sunk in that if I wanted to, I could build such a thing. Oh, I would probably outsource the engine (as did the Wrights), but all the rest of it I could easily make. It would just take some time, some space, and a bit of money to do so.
Think about that. You, in all likelihood, could build one too, if you have some basic mechanical skills and wanted to take the time. It wouldn’t meet current safety standards, of course, but it would be flyable.
This is in no way meant to belittle the breakthroughs of the Wright brothers, or, for that matter, the accomplishments of the AIAA Wright Flyer Project. But I think that it is important for us to not lose sight of the fact that there was no magic involved, just a lot of good hard work, testing, and innovation, by real people using simple materials and tools. I think we forget that, sometimes.
Jim Downey
Quick update to this post: I did finally get payment for the conservation work, and on Wednesday we finished getting my wife moved out of her office. By next Wednesday the bulk of the estate stuff will be gone for the auction, so things will eventually settle out here at home. This is good.
And my wife and I are getting ready to leave for the weekend. All weekend. Just going. Sure, we’ve made arrangements for someone to check in on the pets regularly, but that is all the arrangements we needed to make in order to be gone. Which is rather a substantial change from how my life had been the last five or six years. Wow.
Have a good weekend.
Jim Downey
Shawna Johnson was my manager, my assistant, my friend during a large portion of the time I owned and operated Legacy Art here in Columbia. A very talented artist in her own right, I also found her an invaluable resource at the gallery. We’ve maintained a close connection over the last several years, since she moved to New York to fight the good fight there.
Last night she sent me this meditation. After reading it, I asked if she’d allow me to post it here, since she talks about things I have referenced several times, and echoes many of my own thoughts. With her permission, here it is.
Jim Downey
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legacy became a legacy on May 31, 2004. The doors were closed and locked. Nothing was left but the dregs of a half-keg of stout from Flatbranch Pub and some empty plastic cups scattered around. The gallery space of 4000 square feet looked bigger than it ever had before. Each nail hole in the wall seemed to stare out at me, silently accusing. The ceiling fans clicked and their flat sound just reverberated in the dead space. Every inch of that space seemed to be waiting for something.
The only artwork that remained was the floor sculpture of Jim Kasper. It was a jester head. It stared out into the vast emptiness with a similarly blank expression, and said nothing. Just like the jester, everyone was putting on masks that day. Not out of deceitful urges, but because they just did not know what to feel. There really were just too many options. Memories crowded around, butting into conversations, demanding to be recognized. Maybe they were afraid of becoming legacies too.
Most artists came in rather subdued. For some, it appeared to be similar to going to a funeral. They spoke softly, as if out of respect for the dead or mourning. Or maybe they just didn’t like the way the mammoth space amplified their voices. One voice stood out over all. Jim Downey’s forced boisterousness comforted many and gave them the direction they needed. His laugh was heard booming overhead quite often, as if to retaliate against the despair, or to say something noble and profound about the unconquerable art spirit. Many left that day inspired by him to keep fighting the good fight. Few of us knew the fight that was going on inside of Jim. Even fewer knew that the laugh and the effort behind it were both forced. I was grateful for his effort, for it gave me the courage to do the same. As his assistant, it was crucial that I stay in synch with the tone he set. He projected the spirit of undaunted hope and continually repeated the list of victories, insisting that everyone focus on what had been accomplished in eight years of trying. I found myself saying the same things, as if we had rehearsed beforehand. We hadn’t. I just trusted his leadership and followed the tone he set. It may just be the only thing that got me through that day. Or through the next two years. That litany of good deeds running through my mind helped me to ignore the sounds of defeat.
Now, four years later, I am finally listening to some other sounds from the past. Each day a remembered voice penetrates my mental filter, or the image of an artist’s face. Scrolling through my phone’s list of stored numbers, a name jogs a memory. Often I have hurried on, refusing to accommodate the memory. But they keep coming back. Lately I have begun to allow myself to linger for a moment, here and there. Was Jim’s method the best for dealing with the loss we all experienced? I don’t know about right, wrong, or best, but it certainly enabled us all to survive and to put that day behind us. Now I have begun to bring it back, piece by piece, in manageable portions, to process and evaluate. To cleanse myself and let the wound heal.
My position at Legacy enabled me to see a lot of things. I saw how, for many people, art is simply decoration, a background for what they see as real life. It is not a necessary commodity, but a luxury of sorts. Most considered their art purchases as some kind of treat, and bought only on special occasions. People constantly needed to be reassured of the validity of their purchase. Very few felt confident as consumers to decide for themselves which paintings were better, and seemed to think there was some hidden magic code that they were not privy to.
I, on the other hand, felt quite confidant in my role. I knew what I believed about art. I knew what was good or successful art based on formal qualities and my own definition of art. I easily shared these things with patrons, offered them guidance, and encouraged their own confidence. People often left the gallery feeling bolstered by my input, whether they chose to buy that day or not. I felt that because of this, we were making progress. I believed it was possible for one little gallery to change the face of consumerism in that college town. I was convinced that if people were simply educated, they would come to see what I saw and value art as I did. Once that happened, the money would follow.
We had a wide range of price brackets. Anyone could afford something in our shop. In fact, when Jim ran the numbers that spring, he determined that if all of the members of our mailing list had spent ten dollars a month, we would have more than doubled our net income. (Ten bucks seems like nothing to me, living here in New York.) There were five hospitals in our town of 100,000 residents. We were home to the state university and two other private colleges. It seemed logical to deduce that there were plenty of intelligent, cultured people who could afford $100 annual investment in the arts. If only we could educate them and provide a safe, secure environment for them to ask questions and grow confident in their ability to choose which painting to buy. That was my theory.
So, what went wrong?
The subject perplexes me. It has to be a combination of factors…I’m just not sure which ones were most prevalent. Every time I examine the question, I come away with a different answer. How do you keep from repeating the past when you can’t understand it? At one time I thought it possible to change the way Americans view art. Now I am quite shaky on what I think. I see increasing evidence that the ones responsible for America’s view of art compose quite a stockpile list. All arts professionals have an influence: curators, gallery directors, teachers, grant-writers, critics, the media, and even artists themselves. Perhaps artists are the most responsible.
I would like to know why we failed and if there is any chance of redirecting this avalanche that is swallowing up my hope. Is it possible to change the system? I don’t want to grow old wondering, “What if…?” And I also don’t want to end up an old, bitter, jaded person who tried to change it but eventually accepted that resistance was futile. Can I live with myself if I don’t try? Can I live with the world if it doesn’t turn out to be what I want it to be? These two questions present an essential crossroad in life which I am trying not to view as a roadblock. In my efforts, I constantly fall back on Jim’s method of remembering old victories. I also think it’s O.K. if I let the engine idle here a while as I let myself refuel.
Shawna Johnson
Filed under: Feedback, Marketing, Predictions, Publishing, Science Fiction, Writing stuff
A couple of quick items . . .
We’re now over 11,400 downloads of Communion of Dreams – that’s about 400 in the last month.
Sometime overnight we passed 25,000 hits to this blog. I mentioned a few months back that Welcome to the Hobbit House was far and away the most popular post I’ve written. It still is, by a factor of 10x. It seems to pop up fairly high when people search for “hobbit”, “hobbit house” and variations thereof. Not my most thought-provoking or literary post, but there you go.
Oh, yeah, this is post 461. Given my usual rate of posting, I should cross 500 sometime in October. I’ll try to make note of it. Since my posts tend to average 400 – 500 words, that means we’re somewhere in the neighborhood of 200,000 words, or half again the number of words in Communion. But while I do try and put a little thought into most of the things I post here, that is nothing like the amount of work required to write a book-length work of fiction.
So, thanks to one and all who stop by here (particularly those who comment), and who have downloaded Communion and told friends/forums about the book. Sometime in the next few weeks I’ll have a small bit of news about the novel (no, I have not been contacted by a publisher or anything).
Maybe more later today.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 