Ink People

Just for some visual silliness to go with the usual verbal kind, here's my latest painting. It's called "Very Small Ink People Playing in a Field of Colours", and it shows, well, very small ink people playing in a field of colours. Watercolours, to be precise. The whole thing is about 5x7", and was just splashed about this morning.

In case you're wondering, this is, of course, High Art. With a capital A. The kind you're supposed to study carefully, and then you nod wisely and make some erudite comments about composition and complementary colours. Not a lot of chiaroscuro to be had, I'm afraid; you'll have to find some other fancy words to throw around to impress the unwary. (Incidentally, I used to pronounce that word chiaro-scuro, thinking the o's were the ending of each part of the compound word, and feeling oh-so-clever for saying it that way; but then I learned that it's actually chiar-oscuro, clear-obscure. It means, of course, the light-dark contrast that people like Rembrandt do so fantastically well, and people like me can only dream of. But at least I can pronounce the word right, and now you can, too.) Oh, you could also draw some really intelligent inferences about the deep meanings of the ink people's poses, and how it reflects the inner state of my being at the moment of drawing them. And most likely it's also a scathing indictment of the social realities of twenty-first century life.

On the other hand, you could also look at this, and quietly chuckle at it, or briefly grin, or even just vaguely twitch up the corner of your mouth or left eyebrow. That would be quite sufficient for me, thank you very much.

Life, the universe, and ink people. I have a feeling there's more where those came from.

On the Need To Be Profound

When I started out writing this blog, it was just meant to be for fun. Silly. Not very deep. Then I found myself writing a few entries in which I ended up waxing rather philosophical. I mean, I do that. I go from silly to philosophical and back in a few nanoseconds. Someone once said that the measure of a person's intelligence is how many different and conflicting ideas they can hold in their head and believe in at the same time. By the same token, I wonder if a measure of a person's emotional intelligence is how many different and conflicting emotions they can feel at the same time. Boy, I'd be an emotional genius at that rate.

But the thing about being profound is that it sets up this standard. You've done it once, you feel you have to do it again. Repeatedly. And before you know it, you're stuck in this trap of profundity (is that a word?). Out the door goes all nonsense and silliness; you can never just be lame, dorky or uninteresting any more.

Piffle, I say! I refuse to be locked down into seriousness. I claim the right to be as silly or as dull as I darn well please. Well, perhaps, I can promise that if I say things very dull indeed, I'll say at least three of them, like Miss Bates on Box Hill (and if Emma wants to criticise me for it, I know I'll have Mr Knightley to protect me).

On that note, did you know that September 28th is "Ask a Stupid Question Day"? It is, truly. It's an international holiday. Comes not much more than a week after "Talk Like a Pirate Day", which is on September 19th. And in between is "Hobbit Day", on September 22nd, but that goes without saying (it being Bilbo's and Frodo's birthday).

Now aren't you glad you know that?