Images and words are processed by, respectively, the rear and right, and left and front lobes of the human CPU. Those in this series are processed by the fan. A cool processing unit reboots all the lobes and makes your brain laugh.
We don’t laugh because we’re happy – we’re happy because we laugh.
Created in the gaze of a starry lion in the August sky, this series explores how imagination is to nature as words and images are to the work of creation.
I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.
Back when TVs and phones sprouted rotary dials and hearses grew tail fins, Marshall McLuhan observed: We look at the present through a rear-view mirror, march backwards into the future. What kind of future are we backing into at present? For answers, a great jovialist consults a prophet of doom.
“For a long time, I have been making many predictions, far in advance of events since come to pass, naming the particular locality. I acknowledge all to have been accomplished through divine power and inspiration.”
Following our previous post, “True Tile Tales,” we picked these tales up off the cutting-room floor, and the tiles came with them. A little bird told us they wouldn’t lie. So, truth be told…
Our myths glow, as tiles made of clay and compassion, with the fire of gods.
“The artist must create a spark before he can make a fire and before art is born, the artist must be ready to be consumed by the fire of his own creation.” —Auguste Rodin
“Waiting for a gift from the sea” is a metaphor of practicing patience as its own reward, as virtue must be, for goodness’ sake. If inner strength and endurance are among all good things that come to those who wait, well, a gift from the sea is worth waiting for.
Have patience with all things, But, first of all with yourself.
When there’s nothing else he’d rather do, a writer on a raft, idles on the tide. This series of picture poetry is an artist’s impressions of words which emerge from idling well.
To welcome this spring’s new beginning of time for every purpose under the sun, the task of the arts, like that of the sciences, is to say something about Nature.
It is wrong to think that the task of physics is to find out how Nature is. Physics concerns what we say about Nature.
What’s the sound a name makes when it’s dropped? —Anonymous
The quotations in this post may be attributed to immortal names. But on the Johns Hopkins University site and others from which they are sourced, they are unattributed. This tribute, by a nicknamed artist and a pen-named poet, gives all authors of immortal wit and wisdom, truth and beauty, by whatever other names they may also be lauded, a name the world of arts and letters never forgets.
If a dog jumps into your lap, it is because he is fond of you; but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer. —Alfred North Whitehead