Tag Archives: art

Cuba Day 6

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Day 6

0800am

Federer won match point against Waiwrinka… I mean the drive to Havana was uneventful. We stopped for lunch as usual. After threatening our own revolution, we won just enough time to dip our feet into the water before getting back on the bus. A long drive but smooth to the Hotel National. Nice room even if it is smoky. For some reason the smoky room is bugging my lungs but not when I tried the cigar. Walt Disney stayed in our room, the sign says so. A walk around town showed basic large city crap: dirty smelly noisy. I started to hold my things closer to my body. Very unlike Cienfuegos. There is a shield wall (or sea wall or something like that name) where apparently prostitutes hang out at night. They are young girls and boys and homosexuals to make some money. Some of them might be people with regular government jobs that need extra money. Continue reading →

Cuba Day 5

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Day 5

1115am

After the symphony we went to our dinner outside similar to what I’ve been having so far. The band asked me (pulled me) to play the drums. I’m not sure if it was because I was at the table next to them and tapping on the table, because I was a tourist, or random. Of course I am nowhere near as good as Pablo. I’m happy at least I kept a rhythm. Pablo, Margo, Ebru and I went up some narrow stairs to see a view from the top of a building. I tried smoking more of the Cuban but it went out again. It’s also starting to fall apart. People make smoking look so easy. We turned in early. This morning was finishing packing to have the bags ready for pickup by 7am then off to breakfast. We walked after to a local store where the people use their ration booklets. Now we are headed to the bag of pigs museum. Continue reading →

the art of… art

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the creative process is interesting as i find many things in life.

sitting, pondering, doing, erasing, doing over, trying, retrying. scrapping it and starting all over.

writing, painting, sculpting, creation of any kind.

for myself i’ve tried many types.

pottery making is fun even if messy. getting the right speed of the wheel, the right pressure on the clay outside and inside. big, small, tall, squat. plate, bowl, cup. glazed, unglazed. if you mess up, chuck it (gently) back into the pile of clay and start over. i signed up for a single 2-3 hour class and made four different things. i like three of the four only because i messed up on the fourth and ran out of time before i could fix it.

painting/drawing i seem to suck at. in middle school the teacher told me that i had a lot of imagination but no talent. that’s the only reason i got a ‘d’ instead of an ‘f’ i think. maybe i should try a lesson. every so often i tried and pencil sketch something usually something right in front of my like my hand. some of the doodles aren’t that bad. but it isn’t something i can reproduce easily.

writing, somewhat rhetorically obvious, is what i enjoy. even in high school i enjoyed it. unfortunately i was told often i shouldn’t be wasting my time on it by teachers, family and friends. i even tried to submit a piece to a writing contest. the way i remember it, i spent quite a lot of countless nights awake working on it. i then gave it to my ap english teacher to review and submit. one day i asked if she had heard anything. again unfortunately she never got around to looking at it. i don’t remember an apology or anything. i still don’t think she even liked me since i was never as good as my sibs had been. i do remember the feeling of being crushed and i did give it up for a while. i took some classes in college but it wasn’t the same.

so now i’m making another run just a little differently this time and maybe i will even take another chance in the future at something a little longer than a blog.

to anyone that creates, keep it up. don’t let them tell you it’s not good enough. let your heart and head decide. beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

-Santa’s Fallen Angel

 

not self-portrait

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I enjoy taking photos. For the most part they are for me. I get to look at them whenever I want and take that mental vacation.

I have been asked why I’m not in most of my photos. I am in some now and then. Sometimes of my own choice and sometimes forcibly told to get in one. Granted again I’m usually behind the lens, not in front and it’s not always easy to get yourself in the picture. I don’t need to see myself in it. I took it. If I want or need to know more I’ll look it up. That’s what metadata is for and GPS tagging.

I do admit that I don’t think I’m very photogenic. I’m not a fan of being in the picture. As a vertically challenged person many times I’m in the back or side of the photo. The floating head in the background of the photo, that could very well be me. I can’t always identify myself in these photos. Maybe if I squint enough I can make out the dark blob in the back. Recently I found that there is at least one good reason to get in front of the lens. I can only hope that somebody that knows how to use the camera to get a good shot and in focus is present.

What is it?

Simple social reasons. I think people can connect with me better when I’m in at least a few of the photos be they in or out of the US. They can work as conversation pieces – “oh you went to…”, “this is great”, or “where are you in that picture?”.

It’s hard for others to be really sure you were there. Just a presumption since you posted them. So I’ll try to be in more photos and have my point and shoot (pas) with me more often. Good thing I have extra batteries and a new way to keep them charged when I’m out.

-Santa’s Fallen Angel

fiction in reality, reality in fiction, reality from fiction

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The way I see it books of fiction, not including fantasy, are based with experiences or imagination but modified. That’s why they aren’t non-fiction, although one could argue some non-fiction books based in history are subject to the research of the writer which itself can be tainted and not wholly factual. In the reality of the life in general people try and avoid it and lie to others and themselves to make it through day to day.

Reality in fiction

In any writing that I’ve done, either here or in pursuit of producing a work of literature more than a few pages, I take what I know and what I’ve learned, or think I know and learned, and try to apply it to a fictional world and life of someone else to make a new fictional reality, one in which I hope that someone reading it would lose themselves and experience a possibility that I tried to relate to and they might find themselves empathizing with. Wow. Long sentence and probably grammatically wrong in there somewhere.

Poetry, short stories, novellas, plays, novels. All the same as far as writing goes for me and how I approached them as above. A better writer may do more research to create their world and characters. If/when I get around to either cleaning up something I’ve written or more likely writing something new, maybe I’ll find out for myself if I can do it from my head and ego or do I need to do some intense research to make it through my own fake world.

Fiction in Reality

*Disclaimer* I have a tv but I can’t remember the last show I actually followed or watched. It was a choice to stop since I found myself trying to keep up with shows instead of living my life and that darn HDDVR seemed to become the center of my world. The struggle to get through the shows before it filled up and deleted something I hadn’t seen. Now I rarely turn on the tv for a show. It’s mainly for watching movies.

Why are there so many reality tv shows out there? Why are we fascinated by the lives of others that are possibly so removed from our own that we can’t really make a connection? I can’t say that I empathize with a rich single attractive bachelor with scores of (mostly) hot women that seem to be willing to do just about anything to have him pick her for a lifetime of supposedly blissful happiness. The thing is I’ve probably only seen a handful episodes and only then because someone else was watching it at the time. The bachelorette, survivor, 16 and pregnant, toddlers and tiaras, the amazing race, the biggest loser, kate (and john) plus 8, top chef, hells’ kitchen, extreme home makeover, undercover boss, cops, celebrity apprentice, and the list can go on and on.

On a personal level I find some of these shows not to be so bad and others make me want to puke and question if man will one day be ‘civilized’ before we die off from a nuclear disaster or a biological experiment gone wrong. Not necessarily bioterrorism. It could be something genetically modified that is thought to be harmless.

What about those shows that aren’t ‘reality’ themed in nature but just a regular tv show. Breaking bad, in plain sight, heroes, six feet under, mad men, etc. I think I could argue these are in their own way reality style shows. It seems to be a difference in the level of fakeness. In heroes, there is a fictional reality based in the possible sci-fi of genetics. In the sopranos, they took a fictional mob family and ran with it. Both of these are based on some sense of a past, present or future reality. How is that much different from the biggest loser where people are placed in a fictional world where all expenses are taken care of, they don’t work or have to pay for meals and the services of a personal trainer to possibly lose me in weight. Then they go home at some point either from losing or at the end and they must maintain themselves. I don’t know how many actually continue on their own and keep off the weight. It still seems like a constructed fake reality. I can empathize with the desire and need to get back into shape and I face the reality of it each and every moment. I remember my father and his weight and I struggle to force myself into a better shape. For my own health, as an example to others and because I superficially just want to look better in the mirror.

Reality from Fiction

The reality in the fiction of any denial I have is that I have work to do. There is no fiction in this reality on mine that I can avoid. While reading and education can help me learn how to help myself, no amount of tv watching or news reading will take a single calorie off my gut if I don’t do it myself. But perhaps, just maybe, sometimes we can use fiction to create a new reality. The elite athlete might lie to himself by saying that he is the best or fastest to get his mind into the right place and maybe create a reality where he does win. A state of mind helping one to achieve a goal. I can envision myself in a time and place where I was thin and in good shape and could run a sub-20 minute 5k and can use that to motivate myself to keep working on myself. I was there once, why can’t I get close to it again? I don’t think I’ll easily get back to that person but why not make a good effort at it.

-Santa’s Fallen Angel