Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

who am I kidding
I can't stop this,
the shadows have eyes
like the rainbow has a beard
and the cream sings holes
in reflections
of bottomless canyons,
mesas of honeysuckle
aromas with muscle
legs like elastic branches
fingers with ivy nails
a garden of reverse logic
LSD tales that go down smooth
new truth in an old brown bag
smother the derelict imagination...
rats in mink stoles
dance with cartoon toms
my mind is not lost
it has found the contrast
the vertical ladder disappears
the horizontal clouds embrace honesty
the signal in analog-chic
real rabbit ears baby....floating
like secret moving portals
nothing would stay the same
my teachers had serious limitations
I know they did their best
but no way you can keep 'em
down on the ground
with white picket fences
when their eyes have known Montmartre
maybe it was the hills of cobblestones
maybe it was the pink Paris sky
doesn't matter, it's time to paint mon ami

Yes, coming up it was all about learning programmed history, studying math, science or business, getting a "real job," and a place out in the 'burbs with kids and cars and yes, the picket fence, and always being a good, obedient consumer of stuff-- always more STUFF-- and then when digital came, more of the same, only faster and faster in connected disconnect, and art? ART?!... are you kidding? Art was useless, dangerous; no place in the hypercapitalistic empire of banksterism and utilitarian greed, conformism and anti-art pushing ever higher on borrowed billions and trillions. And, and, and... Uh well ... Obviously I could've been born into a worse situation, so yeah, count blessings and all, and uh, nevermind...

Speaking of analog, been messing around with tapes lately-- yes, TAPES. I needed to see spindles spinning, to hear a little hiss for godssake. And I bought a few cds, even a vinyl LP. The kids in the office can't understand why I bother with such Dark Age-ism. Art? Soul?... And, and, wow, I guess that's enough of my rambling. Yes, time to paint...

terrific response mnaz...appreciate your personal connection to the poem...a poem needs to provoke that...sometimes we hit...sometimes we miss...sometimes a poem is narrow in scope...sometimes much broader...Vinyl is making a surge !...can't beat the fidelity....

education as you say has always been about conformity...often conforming to the prejudice of a professor....few institutions encourage doing your own thing...art and music and shop were the areas I was really drawn to......but the humanities took a major blow...now it's all but gone...no money in the budget....pressure from the corporate model forces teachers to teach to the standardized tests they use to measure the teachers performance...not the kids...to the extent that some teacher....and principals have been caught cheating...wow....how did we get so off track ?.....corporate interference has done nothing to improve learning and the kids are left with little appreciation for the arts

I loved it- rats w/ mink stoles-

What a place!!
I may have been there
W
O
W

Yes, sadly, the cartridge on my old Yamaha table is pretty shot, but I'll replace it. Even cassette tape of all things has seen a (modest) revival, though it's been 15 years since cassette decks were in stores. I've made mixtapes, built for various types of sound excursions, with fades and certain sequences for continuity or transition effects. One of my favorite machines had old(er)-skool controls with quick response, and I did quick-cuts on the beat from one tune to another; I mixed a couple of funk tapes like that ... And why albums instead of cherry-picked streaming for music? Maybe because an artist made an album, not a detached a la carte list of files? And maybe I'd like to actually see the croaking lizard painted of the cover of a Scratch Perry album, and of course the liner notes, scribbled lyrics and photos, the art, glimpses into creative genesis...

And corporate influence . . . like any other organism to emerge on the rock, mixed returns/effects so far. On one hand its accelerated efficiency to convert resources to products may hold the most promise for meeting accelerating needs; on the other hand it may be accelerating "need" unsustainably in the process, based on premises of unlimited expanding markets, profit motivation and the Doctrine of Having More Stuff. And of course as the population balloons, the push for central institutional control and conformity will, if anything, only strengthen. So it seems. Interesting times to be living through...

most of what I feel
there is no long term plan
the endgame is make me money
fast as you can, but simon says
what about your grandchildren
dumbass

There was nothing quite like tearing the cellophane wrapper off a brand-new record album, putting it on the turntable, and settling down in an easy chair with an apple and the record sleeve to read the liner notes as the needle plowed into the first track. I'll always remember the first time I heard Miles Davis - I mean, really heard him - "Pharoah's Dance" on the Bitches Brew 2-fer - it was a revelation - an epiphany - a musical apotheosis, a synthesis of everything I'd heard before recombining into something remarkable and new. Same with John McLaughlin's 1st Shakti LP - Bill Laswell & Material's "Memory Serves" - all on vinyl. It was more than just listening - it was the ritual, the sacramental acts of gently removing the disk from its package, handling it carefully by the edges and easing it into place on the turntable, lifting the cartridge with your index finger and gently lowering it into the leader groove...

For me, personally, it was a time of discovery.

In complete agreement about that little visit to your place of sacred listening

Well we grew up among various explosions, so that's what we get, tech or otherwise. Time keeps shrinking into itself and that used to freak me out a little, but now I realize that's just what Time was born to do, just shrink into itself as if it never happened, so I'm okay with it. Say your peace and get the fuck out, and let others fight over the remains, and it's time to paint.

Nice