Starry Nite 2007
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This image is from the end of that last video. I fooled around with it a bit in photoshop. I call it "MOLD STARS" because it was made by taking still images of mold growing on my bathroom ceiling. I like how it is random-looking but follows a kind of hidden organic pattern. Fractalesque. Anyway, to get this pixel effect it's best to trick photoshop by changing the image size and resampling using "nearest neighbor" rather than using the pixellate filter, which produces a more boring effect. The strange thing is that stars in a galaxy also follow a fractal pattern. (It's worth enlarging because otherwise you can't see it - but if yu want to complain about compression, I can do that all day.)
You can also see this image in the following video, which was an early precursor to the "Perceival" project. Isn't the song creepy?
The thing is - I'm not an idiot. I know that most of you care not a shit about using photoshop or what I did today or anything. If we met in real life I would understand when you were bored. I would know when to shut up. I just thought you should know that. Plus I don't really care about anything, least of all whether my blog thrills you or not. The blog writes itself. I am trying to deal with things the best way I know how.
3 comments:
What are you talking about? Do you think i want you to stop talking?
No. I think it was me who wanted me to stop talking.
The question "What were you talking about" is silly. I wasn't talking about anything. What I was doing was tyoing, and what is left is words.
Whatever I was thinking at the time is as lost as whatever I was thinking when I was taking a shower, mowing the lawn, riding the train, staring at a record cover. I mean, maybe there's some faint relationship between what I was thinking and what I was writing, but it's all lost. I mean, there are a trillion incomplete thoughts hanging onto to wherever you're at. By the time you get to the end of a sentence you've already died and come back to life at least three times. You'd be lucky to get a whole clause in your life. That's why Gertrude Stein really understood writing. Did you ever read "How to Write?" That is one of the only books that makes sense to me. Most books seem like they were written by aliens to me.
So it was just the nerves in my fingers being tickled by nerves in my mind. Most of these signals also sent a sister signal through the workspace area of my mind that creates this crazy fake play that I'm... anything. But it's all just zap zap zap.
Writing is just the most detailed printout of these zaps. Sometimes you can get an individual zap, but mostly it's an interweaving in which you might be able to make out the individual strands. Sometimes drawing can do the same thing, but most more elaborate projects that I've been doing are just kind of a zap average. A statistical poll that creates a much less specific but more far-reaching 3d holographic printout.
I don't know why I was being so aggressive. It's easy to lash out at empty space, but exhausting.
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