... the Line Broke & ...

-


In the light of having received my M2-Systems™ Subsystem 2 Journal: the shiny beauty pictured above atop its equally shiny slip case, I was going to meander into some abstractions involving Paul Klee and his '...taking a line for a walk...' approach to the production of his art, which subsequently became the mantra of many of us who went to art college in the seventies, particularly: although as that is the only decade in which I attended art school, that may well be a slightly partial view of things. The pictured tome is at present unsullied, and indeed unmarked by gesture: a bit like the dreaded white void of a blank canvas, screaming out for its first marks, however unstructured they might be. I'm hanging back, but I think I will adopt the measured approach of making the first stigmata on its pristine 100gsm, fountain pen-friendly paper with stamp and ink: a more formalised and considered vandalism with which to break the tyranny of the field.

As to the eventual content creation/discovery/recording implied by the author's rather deliberately diffuse manifesto - included in the journal's opening pages:  a Zen Master's gently assertive approach if ever there was one, that remains to be seen. Once the first marks are made, they will themselves determine the course to be followed. As to Klee's 'taking...' I was thinking particularly about the third section of the journal, the first two being 1) Memory, 2) Reason; and 3) Imagination, which consists of numerous pages ruled in various grid forms, which seem to my eye to be inviting exactly the notion of '...taking a line for walk...' We'll see: keep you posted...

Addendum: Who can tell me the derivation of the title of this post?

Comments

  1. Anonymous18 August 2024 at 08:40

    What immediately came to me is the clapping song, recorded by numerous acts over the years, which in turn is derived I believe from a much earlier childrens song. Probably way off beam from where you are coming from but there you go! Steve

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. sideways18 August 2024 at 11:47

      Spot, on Steve: I was thinking of the 1965 version by Shirley Ellis: the girls in my class at Junior School used to stand at the back of the classroom and sing it, accompanied by that little hand jive thing...

      Delete
    2. Anonymous18 August 2024 at 14:33

      To be brutally honest I can't stand it, no matter what the version! Unfortunately it is one of those 'ear worms' that once it's there you can't get away from it! Hey ho.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Feedback & Wobbles

-
Image
Many years ago I came up with an analogy for poorly damped feedback loops. The feedback loop that prompted this frankly tart analogy was indeed a horror. Anyone who remembers shame-faced their first attempts at clutch control resulting in the good old kangaroo launch across the lights only to stall in the middle of the crossroads will have some idea of the kind of data transfer lag involved in said system. The analogy I made was that of a large blancmange. Untouched, a model of stasis and eminently stable and predictable; but prod the bugger and the resultant chaotic behaviour needs a very complex physical model and some very decent computing horsepower to predict its outputs, if at all. The system in question was a large and complex audio-visual display at what eventually became 'The Electric Mountain' in Llanberis. We were ultimately contracted to maintain the thing having been witness to and peripherally involved in its installation. Certainly not involved in its des...
Read more

A Time of Connection

-
Image
I was just reflecting on the vacuum of continuity that's left behind when someone dies: that sudden sense of disjoint, of fracture, in one's personal history that takes one completely by surprise at the oddest moments. These pinch-points in memory can often yield some surprising revelations of fact about periods in one's past. One such occurred to me tonight, tending my rather lazy meal of pizza in its journey from shrink-wrap to mouth via the oven. Al's recent demise still catches me out from time to time: the space he left bounded by forty plus years of friendship. But the thing that struck me tonight was just how much change was happening on a personal and social level in the very early years of our acquaintance. Between moving here from Birmingham in September 1980 and our buying our first proper house eighteen months later, all manner of things occurred that would chart the course of our lives to the present day. At around the time of our meeting Alan & Irene [...
Read more

Sister Ray

-
Image
Ray Keats - aka Ann Key - local artist & family friend, died this morning. She'd been ill for some years, but never let it get in the way of her work or of tending to the massive network of friends, colleagues and fans she had accumulated over the decades. Her house on the High Street of Rachub, just below where we live - a former cockle factory(!) - bought many years ago when she and her late husband Ronald moved here from Manchester to set up home in Yr Achub, is currently still home to her paintings and drawings, and the front window displays her work, including the last drawing she made in hospital, just days before she died. Her good friend Colin has been a diamond in her latter years, looking out for her and just being there when she needed him. She will be much missed by this tiny community of ageing bohemians up here in the hills, but suffice it to say, George, her cat, will be well looked after now she's gone.
Read more