{"id":8231,"date":"2011-07-15T06:53:22","date_gmt":"2011-07-15T10:53:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=8231"},"modified":"2011-07-15T06:53:22","modified_gmt":"2011-07-15T10:53:22","slug":"do-we-ever-really-get-it","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2011\/07\/do-we-ever-really-get-it\/","title":{"rendered":"Do We Ever Really Get It?"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: looking up into the Ring Around a Tree playspace\/bus shelter in Fuji, Japan. Click to enlarge; see the note<\/a> at the foot of this post for more information.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n

I always gained something from making myself better,
\nbetter than I am, better than I was,
\nthat most subtle citation:
\nto recover some lost petal
\nof the sadness I inherited:
\nto search once more for the light that sings
\ninside of me, the unwavering light.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Pablo Neruda)<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

We must know that it is not enough just to see what the Mind is, we must put into practice all that makes it up in our daily life. We may talk about it glibly, we may write books to explain it, but that is far from being enough. However much we may talk about water and describe it quite intelligently, that does not make it real water. So with fire. Mere talking of it will not make the mouth burn. To know what they are means to experience them in actual concreteness. A book on cooking will not cure our hunger. To feel satisfied we must have actual food. So long as we do not go beyond mere talking, we are not true knowers.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Takuan Soho)<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

If you were to put aside what you know because of what other people told you, how much of what you know do you truly know for yourself?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(John Tarrant)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Layabout<\/strong><\/p>\n

Do nothing and everything will be done,
\nthat’s what Mr. Lao Tzu said, who walked
\naround talking 2,500 years ago and<\/p>\n

now his books practically grow on trees
\nthey’re so popular and if he were
\nalive today beautiful women would<\/p>\n

rush up to him like waves lapping
\nat the shores of his wisdom.
\nThat’s the way it is, I guess: humbling.<\/p>\n

But if I could just unclench my fists,
\nempty out my eyes, turn my mind into
\na prayer flag for the wind to play with,<\/p>\n

we could be brothers, him the older one
\nwho’s seen and not done it all and me
\nstill unlearning, both of us slung low<\/p>\n

in our hammocks, our hats tipped
\nforwards, hands folded neatly,
\nlike bamboo huts, above our hearts.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(John Brehm [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

In 1936 an NBC radio engineer named Claude Fetridge attempted to broadcast, live, the flight of the swallows from Mission San Juan Capistrano, in California. Unfortunately, that year the swallows skipped out of San Juan Capistrano on October 22, a day earlier than tradition calls for, and a lot of personnel and equipment arrived just in time to record nothing in particular. How does this relate? In H. Allen Smith’s words, “Fetridge’s Law<\/strong><\/em>, in simple language, states that important things that are supposed to happen do not happen, especially when people are looking or, conversely, things that are supposed to not<\/em> happen do happen, especially when people are looking.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Barbara Wallraff [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Modern Love<\/strong><\/p>\n

It is summer, and we are in a house
\nThat is not ours, sitting at a table
\nEnjoying minutes of a rented silence,
\nThe upstairs people gone. The pigeons lull
\nTo sleep the under-tens and invalids,
\nThe tree shakes out its shadows to the grass,
\nThe roses rove through the wilds of my neglect.
\nOur lives flap, and we have no hope of better
\nHappiness than this, not much to show for love
\nThan how we are, or how this evening is,
\nUnpeopled, silent, and where we are alive
\nIn a domestic love, seemingly alone,
\nAll other lives worn down to trees and sunlight,
\nLooking forward to a visit from the cat.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Douglass Dunn [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

You can be forgiven for hearing a phrase like “the artist known as Quayola” and thinking of either a certain musician, or a certain brand of children’s wax pencils, or both. Not so: Quayola<\/em> is simply the working name of Davide Quagliola, a multimedia artist in London. From his Web site:<\/p>\n

He investigates dialogues and the unpredictable collisions, tensions and equilibriums between the real and artificial, the figurative and abstract, the old and new. His work explores photography, geometry, time-based digital sculptures and immersive audiovisual installations and performances.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

One of those “unpredictable collisions” occurs in the transition from analog (real-world) musical performances to digital (artificial) visual art. In particular, I’m taken with his Partitura<\/a><\/em> project: software which analyzes music and, from it, creates beautiful 3D animations in real time. Here’s a demonstration:<\/p>\n

<\/object><\/p>\n

What led me to Quayola in the first place, while working on this post? Visit the page for his Strata #1<\/em> project<\/a>, and scroll down to the video labeled “ShortFilm”; before actually playing the video, just look at that still image — and think of the photo at the top of this post.<\/p>\n

(By the way, the films on that page, and the pages for the two other Strata projects, are interesting in their own right. I have no<\/em> idea how they were made; I think they’re “just” software-based manipulations — disassemblies and fracturings — of digital photographs of the building interiors where the films were shown.)<\/p>\n

<\/a>___________________________<\/p>\n

About the image:<\/strong> The Ring Around a Tree project was commissioned for the Fuji (Japan) Kindergarten. Tezuka Architects<\/a> were charged with adding some play space to the main building, which they’d also designed; they opted to take advantage of a Japanese zelkova tree on the grounds. The tree had been killed (so it was thought) by a typhoon, some fifty years ago. Much to everyone’s surprise, the tree recovered and thrived, and became a natural playground for kids at the school. Generations of kids have climbed it.<\/p>\n

The Ring Around a Tree seems from the outside to consist of two floors. In fact, it’s subdivided into six levels, cunningly walled and ceilinged off in various ways to encourage kids to move around while crouched or crawling as well as standing up: the sorts of poses they’d adopt were they still climbing the tree itself. (Graceful, thin — almost invisible– metal railings protect them from falls.)<\/p>\n

The structure also serves as a shelter while waiting for the bus. If I were a kindergartener there, I’m not sure I’d get<\/em> on the bus without being forced.<\/p>\n

For more information, see the following sites (among others):<\/p>\n