Archive for October, 2009
October 30th, 2009
NO more pictures guys. But of course, you can all follow me on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/vontinuum where i shall be updating all my other art and writing exploits.
The event company running tonights Singapor Literature symposium will be picking me up at 10pm and then it’s set up time at the National Library. Butetrflies, some probably friends with Chin Yew, have been fluttering in my stomach since i woke up. My segment will last about 40 minutes or so. Here’s a run down.
At 1am. About 30-35 people will be stepping into a dimly lit space in the library. AT the entrance, i’ll be directing people to begin reading pages blown up and pasted on the walls all around the space. Littered across the floors will be crushed pages from my book which people will be advised to pick up to read. After 15 minutes or so, I will begin my talk.
The Random Experience.
what the participants had gone through touches on teh random experience. To me, randomness wakes up the mind and helps people connect two different conceptual ideas together. The brain has this tendency to want to form stories and connections between random events. We look for patterns. We want to understand things holistically. IN a gestalt manner. IN my writings like the ‘Lady of The Owls’ I include a woman who has half her face covered in snake skin, looking for her lover, the Owl king in a book, as she roams a bookstore. In an other story, Valentine’s day meets African Demon masks. Two distinctly different things brought together for the sake of a story. I’ll also speak abot anoteh rlocal author Grace Chia, in her Book Womango, where one of her stories involves a wolfman, little red riding hood, strawberries, allusions to trains, carnivals and toy guns. All screaming together like a roller coaster ride.
Non-linear storytelling
My fascination with confusing readers and pushing the mind to approach literature differently also involves a great deal of non-linear storytelling. What i love most about that is the way it removes expectations. There’s no proper beginning middle and end. Things can start off at the end, jump to the start, set the scene then move to a climax in the middle. Teh brain is used to linear events, as w elive in a way, in a linear world. Fiction affords us a way to throw events around training the brain to jump about in space and time. And that keeps things exciting and interesting.
The Unseen Dimensions
One of the reasons why I introduce randomness and non-linear approaches is because the world i tell my stories in isn’t exactly your everyday reality. It’s space and time is for most part, very messed up and is clinging to the frayed ends of sanity. There are entities and intelligent life forms mingling with spirits and magicians and shamans. Weird girls and twisted boys play out impossible existential games in spaces that have no geometrical foundations. And the flicking between various times and levels of reality simply calls out for a non-linear life. The strange has always been a part of my life. As a small boy i even saw the archetypal figure of the old man carrying the lantern, with his whole body aglow standing next to an old old house. With the love of the strange, I naturally have a resonant connection with Cyril Wong’s latest short fiction book called ‘Let me tell you something about that night’. His opening story, about lake children who had drowned in a frozen lake, and eating the bodies of the drowned adults, is something that enlivens up my imagination. Very well done.
Creative Processes
How do i reach those non ordinary states of consciousness to be able to bring out stories as weird and strange as the desires of my heart? This i believe is the heart of my talk tonight.
Sleep deprivation works wonders for me. IN a state of mental fatigue, when the mind quietens down and allows only fleeting thoughts to arise, that’s when i receive my best inspirations. There’s something about the semi day dream one gets into when you have not enough sleep. And since, the stuff of dreams and nightmares is what i’m also drawn to, such a technique is a blessing. Combining that idea with nocturnal write-outs, the stage gets set even better. usually i’ll take a writing book, some pens and hit the last bu s out to the city or to teh airport. Then its an all night writing adventure, travelling by foot, i scour the 24 hour joints, the dark and sleeping streets, the weary air in the airport, the energies of the owl like passengers, searching for ways to connect with the night side of reality. And writing about it or letting it influence whatever i’m writing at that point. I bring stuff to read, if i’m tired of writing, or i stare hopelessly into the black, letting the mind do its nocturnal thing.
Automatic writing is another method that i partake in. BUt i have to admit it can get very tiring, just letting your consciousness flow while trying to catch up with it with you typing or writing,. The stream of consciousness writing is a very potent source of hidden subconscious desires and ideas. No holds barred. You just go for it and you’ll be surprised by the interesting stuff that surfaces.
writing in the pitch black dark also has its merits. You can’t see whats happening. you only have your imagination at play. words criss cross into each other, forming new sentences, new directions in prose and poetry. Very much like how i did one of the art pieces for this run, the results can be quite interesting.
The End.
So with that, in a a nutshell, is what my talk will be about. I’m hoping for some media to provide coverage and perhaps even more so, i hope that tonight will be inspiring at least to some people who wish to be writers.
In 3 hours, my ride comes. In 6, my segment begins. And in 5 hours, the 30 day artist run comes to an end.
Wendy is next up on the list. I believe she’ll be doing some abstract expressionist work and some sculptures. You can join her run at the facebook page http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=148852350815&ref=ts
So i guess that’s it for me over here. It was fun. A little crazy. But on the whole, pleasing. Thank you everyone for watching and commenting. Thanks to Chin Yew for this opportunity and i’ll see you guys in October 2010!
Goodnight and godspeed!
* The entire series of paintings for this run may be found here : http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulpereira/sets/72157622627249670/
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October 30th, 2009
So the time of artistic abandon is coming to a close. The inner world is richer and far more potent than it had been before this run started. Dreams are altered, a sign of an altered mind. Feelings of melancholy abound, a sign of seeing things coming to an end, and yet, the beginning is always there. This run has trained me to stick to my guns, to finish off what i started and i’m better off now than a year ago when it was easy to just give up. And to know that you’ve got it in you to produce art day after day, helps you grow in confidence and prowess. Looking back, i can understand how young som eof the art work directions are, and how it needs more time to develop the level of detail i would like to see. But that is the nature of the artistic process. We must always strive to be better than the last time, to always work towards a new level of improvement. Be it writing or drawing or painting or making music, it’s always the same.
Outdo yourself.
    
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October 29th, 2009
It’s always not too easy to live the life of an artist, or to have too much of a fringe sensibility. Especially when one needs to remain true to oneself and yet, remain connected to the practical and live in a grounded manner. It’s all well and good that you can live in your head, lost in the fantastik, enriched by the strangeness of an otherworldly life. But this life, within which you live your other life, is flesh and bone and cash. When all efforts are put into creating, what energy is left to bring those creations out there into the world for everyone to see? One cannot simply create and expect people to know your creations just like that. And that is the crux of the whole matter. To share your work. And for sure, being experimental or dark or fringe, drastically reduces your market. When your heart belongs to a niche paradigm, the niche is harder to reach and speak to. One or two lovers of your work may not be able to sustain you. Just doing art for yourself may not be able to sustain you. Sooner or later, you would want more people to tell you that your work has touched their hearts. That is what keeps you going, not the shadows in your own hermetic cave. The conflict is internal and eternal. Many have struggled long and hard to be known. Many more have died out penniless and in pain, struck down by rejection and the mockery of the times. Many fight to stay afloat, keeping heads above water just to catch the small sincere glints in the eyes who understand you somewhat, deep inside. We build our house of recognition , person by person, with the hopes that one day it could stand on its own and be noticed in a city overwhelmed by the steel of mediocrity and the concrete tombstones of the commonplace. Though sad at times, we go to sleep with hope and dreams, praying to wake up to another day, with at least another ounce of energy, to carry on the fight to make a difference in a world we co-create.
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October 29th, 2009
More scraps from the warm up scrapbook done in September. Had trouble just now for the printing of pages for teh symposium. Words were cut off into strange boxes. Found out that when you cut and past from an original A4 page onto an A3 page. The A4 margins still remain. Which is funny because given that A3 is bigger, one should not expect the pages to be cut off. Weird. Had to reformat and readjust during printing to fit an A3. Ok. That was technically dry but such nightmares do hit the artist and the hiccups can be frustrating.
Also ran through DUNE which i have not read before. I liked how it begins with a witch visiting paul.
As i was walking about the mall, i felt the waves of writing energy begin its bubbling ascension into my consciousness. I'm quite glad that the symposium is just a day behind the start of national novel writing month. It will really put me into a writing mode, plus talking to students who are creative writing classes would help me go through my own creative processes and set the ball rolling.
The imagination is heightened and excited. The drug is taking effect.
    
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October 29th, 2009
Crushed pages from my book VONTINUUM. Bibliophiles will cringe. How can this mad author crush and tear and scatter his own works in a room? To what end does this madness serve?
All in the name of randomness.
Randommess forces the mind to make connections across disparate ideas and themes. It forces new neural networks to be created. It wakes up the mind to new possibilities.
About 70 people will be moving through the room, with about 14 pages blown up and displayed on the wall. They will go about reading from any location they like, pick up the scraps, read it to make some kind of connection. Through words or ideas.
I enjoy the non-linearity of my own writing. I justify it by the fact that my content and imagination speaks about phenomena, entities and ideas that are n on-local, from another dimension. IN those dimensions, space and time operates differently. Some of the laws may not even apply.
My approach to achieving these states of writing varies. Primarily, my creative process involves sleep deprivation, when the mind is in fatigue and laws of logic is subordinated and the element of dream or hypnagogic states take control. Like how one sees images between sleeping and waking, sleep deprivation brings out this state in terms of thought. They’re usually not connected and operates far deeper in the dreaming world, erasing most logical structures.
more updates later, from the pink scrapbook.
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October 28th, 2009
There was a monster, we were once accustomed to hiding from, back in the days when such shadows would haunt the land, and scare the children.
It’s name, i forget, but its form, i cannot erase it from mind.
It had egg like slime, dripping off its scaly, oblong body and it slithered like a serpent upon the wasteland. It couldn’t move as fast, or sting like a scorpion, but its stench alone was what made men lose their minds.
It ate into your brain, seeped into your bones, choked you into submission, and disturbed the regularity of your lungs.
gas masks were hard to come by in those periods so, the watchtowers had to look out for this monster, and raise the alarm upon sighting it, and the villagers would plunge themselves into impossible darkness, deep below, to escape the slug and it’s odor of madness.
Yet. For me, its noxious death vapors posed no harm. For i was not of this place and time.
So it was given unto my hands to kill this beast.
Do not mistake me. I am no hero. i sold books in the old days, before the madness of 1000.100 took over. I had no formal training in violence. In fact, I was never a violent man.
But the fear of the children, the weeping of the women forced my hand and i had no choice but to take up this endeavor.
The elders gave me torches made from firewood and stakes made from old furniture. They said their prayers, gave me blessings and sent me on my way.
I waited by the watchtower, for the alarm to be raised. Days and nights passed, and i found myself growing older, faster before one final night, in the last days, when the alarm finally rang.
The watchmen fled, as the people hid. I was left alone to face this thing.
Building up courage, i lit the torches and moved out towards the beast. My heart pounding in my mouth as i gathered strength to face down this monster.
but i could not kill it.
why?
Because, in the final moments, before i could leap forward and drive the cursed sticks into its heart.
It wept before me. And it spoke in a strange language that i could somehow understand.
it was afraid and joyful at the same time. It kept saying, “Me found you, me found lost soul.” and then i knew.
this monster wasn’t out to kill the people. It was out there in search of me, its higher self.
i dropped the torches. Put out the fires and approached this lowly beast. The lightheadedness that i suffered so long, subsided and my fear vanished in that night’s wind.
I touched its trembling face and felt my own inner self consoled. I gazed upon the monstrosity before me and felt myself become whole.
“Let us go home” I told myself and the beast was delighted. it gaped open its yawning abysmal mouth and i crawled into it like a child returning to its womb and together, we abandoned the village, in search of a place to call home.
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October 28th, 2009
Figured words words words would be boring in an art blog so i'm posting up some of my scrap book pages from September, loosening up for Octobers run.
Enjoy.
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October 27th, 2009
One of my tarot students has the ability to sense the psychic history of objects. Another student is born on a very promising magickal date. 11:11. These flesh and blood characters are great sources of inspiration for story telling and I may fashion new characters out of them in my upcoming national novel writing month project.
The writing mode is slowly taking over as the brushes, art table, paints and the hundreds of other art making things are temporarily kept away. To rest. Bristles must sleep too. They have worked hard.
I brought down some dark ambient music for the segment i’m involved in. Since its Halloween. LUSTMORD’S “The Dark Places of The Earth” is slow, sprawling, enigmatic rumbling of unseen monstrous serpents moving in the great dark beyond the night blindness. Perfect to set a subtle mood for eerie-ness as smnoke machine fog out teh room and people wander about in the semi-lit room reading random pages from my book VONTINUUM and VONTINUUI, which is availabe for free PDF download here: http://aftervolter.wordpress.com/I know. I’ve mentioned it here before but i’m shameless. I shall repeat.
Anyway, i’ll also be talking about my creative process and the act of randomness in literature and how it affects the mind. Obviously i haven’t locked down my discussion map. which is shall update here over the next 2 days before the event on Friday. Like that, i’ll be able to at least write out the stuff i’m going to talk about before teh presentation, so i can see it before me and decide if it’s worth mentioning. It’ll involve ideas of how sleep and food deprivation, writing in the dark. Roaming the streets in the dead of night with pen and paper, can be sources of inspiration for weird literature.
One of the topics i’ll touch on may be how “If one does not find anything interesting to read or look at in art, then create it for yourself. You have your own sensibilities and admirations and to a certain degree, you have a right express those wants to satisfy your own creative needs.” Does it make sense? I read thsi somewhere and it had stuck with me throughout since most of my art and writing is very much a personal vision of dissonance, abstraction, chaos and a kind of organic horror that shifts with my deep moody moods and is not easily quelled by whatever is out there.
Anyway, iit was a very long day for me from morning and i’m probably gonna end up rambling nonsense instead. BUt nonsense is good as Doctor Seuss said.
It wakes up the mind.
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October 25th, 2009
Like 40 days in the wilderness, the boat of a strange God comes to take me away from this alternate universe as the last of the art pieces is uploaded via satellite.
The machinery of paints and pens closes and the writing man of 2209 will awaken . NULL goes home, spaced out, back to the space he belongs to.
The last four days will be a post-mortem, and an inside look into my other form of art making. Writing.
Not in the right state to have a reaction to the completion of the 40 pieces. But it will come later, as the sun sets.
It's not entirely over in terms of days. But like the wilderness, the 40 had come and gone, new demons named, new avatars born, new scenes remembered, and new forms created.
We will speak again.
Thank you for watching.
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October 25th, 2009
The post world terrors must now face the power of the four avengers in the last of days.
ink. cut out canvas. pen. acyclic, correction fluid and charcoal on canvas pad.
29.7cm X 42cm
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