I try art because art lives

“art saves him, and through art – life.”

this was a line that i took, probably out of context, from friedrich nietzche. you must pardon me, for i’m trying to read what i don’t know, which to be honest, is everything. disregarding his initial intention, i’ve taken these words to mean something else to me.

this snippet in particular resonates with why i create, let alone think. i’ve always used some form of art to express myself. it’s a cyclical existence you see: i live to create and i create what i live. i’ve tried to realize my shortcomings as a so called “artist” – the lack of technical proficiency and misconception – although, i use these weaknesses as a strength. how can a weakness be a strength? simple. to know one’s limit is to know one’s progress.

i will admit mediocrity, even when i strive for originality. Knowing this, i still create what i can with what i’ve got because this cathartic impulse can only be satiated by myself.

regardless of its uselessness to others, i create because i live and i live for that ideal that is but a shadow of reality i experience.

Advertising looking for talent, not dignity.

The song Designer from Queens of the Stone Age I think is a fair observation of my age. Being a recent graduate of design, I always knew that my skill of promotion could be used as a negative, instead of a beneficial and informative tool. I don’t mind being the tool for another, as long as I agree with their ideals. And many of these corporate ideals, all amount to dollars.

It seems like information can translate to a denominational value, but at what cost? Human life? Natural habit? Privacy? No, yet I’m a product of this beast. And who can I work with that’ll be willing to pay me for similar ideals and skills I can bring in combating this disinformation? Do companies, not charities, exist that don’t promote omnipotent, soulless, disingenuous corporations? Due to PR, a lot of companies want to look responsible, but really, how many are?

This is all opinion and has no basis in fact. I’m sure some companies are contributing to the common good, but how long did it take them? And what are their real motives for such a decision?

I work at Shoppers Drug Mart, and they advertise being a part of ending women’s cancer, or cancer in general. But, they want your money first in their pockets before you donate to the wholesome cause. If you are genuinely concerned with cancer, would you not contribute without the aid of some corporate message?

I knew the whole time that I was getting into an soulless industry, but it’s the only art I’m proficient in. Maybe that’s because I’ve been sold to since I was an infant. And thanks to social media and the fact that the cellular phone has become a bodily necessity, we can now get 24 hour advertisementing.

And even if you don’t have all this technology, there are those who’ve contracted the ad disease and transfer their knowledge onto you. As much as you resist, their efforts double. Their tactics improve with each psychological discovery. Science has much to offer, and much of that can be to the detriment to the human race.

Advertising, when improperly utilized, studies a habit and designs itself to activate such triggers within ones psyche. This then gives them the power to influence us, even when we are sternly against what we buy.

I’m not immune to this working, I’ve mentioned this in a previous blog. This has been constructed many years before me and how they’ve now become so ingrained within our consciousness, that we accept it as being natural. When in fact, advertising is so unnatural, at least in these falsified forms promoting monetary gain for a singular corporate body.

This is not a valid reason for me not to apply to design firms, but it does weigh heavily upon my mind. I need to make money to live and part of that is contributing to what already exists. I already work part-time for a company who spreads faster than herpes. At least I’m just stocking shelves and not actually designing visual aids for programmable consumerism.

Maybe it’s just a matter of me maturing, or accepting this predestined fact. But as far as I know, there can be something better. How many billion people in this world and not a single person can come up with a better model of business? I’m not implying that such an idea is easy, but taking into account the amount of people, I would like to think there are many intelligent people who are capable in working up a possible solution.

For those who garner a progressive and positive ideal for the future, those are the people I would gladly service and support. But since I’m someone with no “real life experience” I must submit myself to some corporation.

Toronto Comic Arts Festival 2014

Synopsis:

See mag ad. Check website. Find book of interest. Travel to event, sadly, on mother’s day. Get what I planned. Leave for home. Flowers for mom. The end.

It was really that simple. I don’t know why I decide to muddy it up in explanation. Compulsion.

Detailed Account:

So, it was Mother’s day yesterday, and I guess you could say, I bailed on her. Not entirely, although for most of the day. That was not my intention, I wanted to go there and come back. I didn’t realize that when I planned to attend this event that it coincided with Mother’s day weekend. I worked Saturday so I had to go Sunday. I mean, I wrote her something quick, but genuine, and I did make clear that I was planning to go to this event in advance. She didn’t contest, but I take it she was none to happy nor surprised. In the end I do try to make it up, but for now, let me focus on preliminary details.

I had no idea about the existence of this event. I chanced upon it when I received a magazine in the mail. My friend, another subscriber, received the same magazine at which point told me to check out the ad for a comic arts festival. Cool. I like comics. I searched the website. It looked interesting and it was FREE. Then I searched further and found that certain comics were debuting and being sold there. So it’s mainly a sales event, but that’s what these artists need. It’s a good thing.

Now as I’m looking at all the books debuting, I’m attracted by one cover in particular. When I saw it, I knew immediately, that this book spoke my language and I must make the trip to buy it. It’s titled Detrimental Information, written and illustrated by John Holden & Luke Holden. Not even knowing what it was about, I made my mind up. I was going to get that book.

Moving along, about a month, it’s Mother’s day. I make my way down to Toronto. Hit traffic, and accidentally, someone else’s bumper. A minor scuff that had me worried. This has never happened to me before. Luckily everyone in both cars were fine. Not the sort of present she needed for Mother’s day. The misadventure continues when I’ve taken the wrong exit, which left me driving all the way down Bloor until I hit Younge.

Well wouldn’t you know it, I didn’t even think about parking. What was I thinking? That it’s like home and you can park at the venue you’re going to. Nope, of course not. Welp, I spent another 30min driving around and deciding where to park and if we’re even near the venue. Finally parked, settled and ready to amble, we needed to withdraw some cash. Crap, don’t see anything. Well let’s just go to “the spot” and we can ask someone in there.

Where is it exactly? Right in front of us… Where inside do you think they are holding it? I don’t know, but let’s follow the people carrying the comic books. I quickly grabbed myself a festival guide and tried looking up who I wanted to see. Even though there were a multitude of extremely talented people, I didn’t have the time, nor the patience to acquaint myself with their perspective and style.

I find what I’m looking for, but we still didn’t have cash. Shit. Okay, so we ask a library staff member where the nearest ATM is. She says it’s down the street on the corner. Sweet. Made a quick bolt to the machine, got my meager monies, and headed back to the show.

I cautiously approached the table and asked to whom may I make this purchase  from. The one guy said he’ll handle the money, but there’s the author. Really? Cool, do you mind if you sign my book? I don’t think he knew what to write. I told him put “have a nice fucking day,” if he felt so inclined. I didn’t care. During his attempt at signing the book, I told him about the distance I traveled, solely for his book. Why? Because of that absurd front cover. I was honest with him,  I had no idea who he was nor what he was about. I just felt an instant and overwhelming connection by most superficial part of a book, the cover. Which, by the way, was conceived during a dream his brother had.

After our mildly awkward and short exchanging of words, I left feeling gratified and happy I was able to help him and his brother out. Their form of expression seems to resonates similarly to my ideals.

Feeling that the trip was a bit short, I did however peruse the other artist tables. Sadly, the other tables I gave only fleeting glaces at their work. There were just so many great people and perspectives, I was overwhelmed. And I didn’t really plan out questions for anyone. Not that questions are necessary, but it helps, a lot. I would have loved to stay longer, but time was bearing down on me, the thought that it’s Mother’s day and I’m  being a bad son weighed heavily on my mind, and the shear amount of talent in one place threw my head for a spin.

I just needed out. Grab some food, have a smoke, recompose and make my way home. Stopped off at this little place across the street called Crepes A Go-Go. Nifty little joint.  They were polite, knowledgeable, pleasant and were reasonably fast. Space was tight, but that was okay.We were just going to eat it while we walked in the sun, back to where I’d parked. And it was priced fairly. Overall a neat little place to venture to.

As the day progressed, I finally made my way home. But before I went home, I made a quick stop off a Zehr’s and picked up budding/blooming lilies. I was going to get her a money tree, but I don’t think she’d have seen the humor in it. And no need to be wise cracking now. In the end, the lilies were the better choice. I buckled up my flower in the passenger seat. Made sure it wasn’t to restricting on the flower. Left it some room to breathe. Drove the speed limit, cautiously, because I didn’t want to spill and ruin my mom’s gift.

I got home and gave her the flower. I think she liked it, but I think she felt like there was something still missing. It was probably me.