Captain of a Sinking Ship

Robert and Shana Parkeharrison

2009-04-27T17:59:00.000-07:00

They do use some photoshop type techniques withing using photoshop. The way the photos are layered are done in the developing room rather than through digital processes. I wouldn't say this is as incredible as gregroy colbert but it's a different style and there is often some really cool work! I enjoyed this site a lot and would be interested in previewing their work in person. To see their work go here: http://www.parkeharrison.com/

Gregory Colbert

2009-04-27T17:57:00.001-07:00

This artist is absolutely amazing. His photography has no photoshop work done to it whatsoever. He wrote a book compiled of notes written to a lover which is incredibly poetic and beautiful and vastly compelling. He prints his photographs on a special rice paper which gives it the antique and sepia finished look. There's videos showing how he took some of the images and it's absolutely astonishing to see. I'm not much of a photographer but Colbert's work makes me want to be. To see his work go here: ashesandsnow.org

Funes

2009-04-20T15:23:00.001-07:00

Funes Entries

2009-04-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

Indian Rock Garden

2009-03-23T20:14:00.000-07:00

The proximity to campus was what I found to be best part of this trip. I really enjoyed eating with the tribesmen and women as well! They are very sweet, thoughtful and interesting people. As for the plant life and the rock, that was rather interesting as well. Some of the plants were aesthetically pleasing and some were fierce. In this field trip however, I found that photographing other people was more compelling. The area wasn't as vast as previous trips but still gave way for some compelling shots. And although the lemon tree isn't native to California or the area, I enjoyed pulling its fruit and tasting the sweet sourness of something grown naturally and picked as fresh as possible.

Rincon - Gettin' Dirty

2009-03-22T18:07:00.000-07:00

This was a rather informative trip. Instead of being just a spectator standing in the back snapping photos we were at the front lines adding to the native habitat they were attempting to restore. I found the idea they were capturing to be good and true but couldn't find solace in my need to instant gratification. I wanted to see the end product right away. I won't be around to see the fruits of my labor but I'm assured that someone will be there to enjoy it. This trip wasn't necessarily about plant photography but the human being as a subject instead. I took some intriguing shots and found that my favorite one was of a desolate fence in the back country next to the empty river.

Pechanga Trip

2009-03-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

This trip was interesting in the sense that rocks are interesting, or civil war reenactments are interesting in that it takes a special brand of human to enjoy. It was mildly intriguing seeing the giant tree but a rather large let down when it was too much of a "liability" to let me climb it. In seeing the tree i reverted back to my more youthful days and immediately thought of ways to climb up and hang out in the center of it. Being told I wasn't allowed to was like a child being taken to candy store and told that candy is bad for you and you're not allowed to have it.

As the tour progressed further, we were guided to a center for history replayed without the live actors. There were "ancient" tepees and mud huts but no ancient Indians to be found. Although mildly fascinating, I realized my duty there as an artist was to photograph native plants. When I found a beautiful purple flower and attempted to take an amazing photograph of it, I was again let down when informed that the plant I was taking a masterpiece of wasn't native at all. It seems to be that all of the pretty, brilliant and bright plants are all foreign. However, I did respect and appreciate the hospitality of the Reservation Heads who let us on their property to photograph.

Sally Mann

2009-03-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

I think that the end of the film was the most true-to-life that her work has ever been. There is a harsh reality for artists that if your work isn't approved by a hand full of people, it won't be placed in a gallery and you will not make money. To be an artist is to be a single player in one of the most competitive and non-lucrative professions available in this generation. The focus is shifting away from fine art into applied art which can put a dampen on even the most upbeat spirit.

However, her content in the Death Series show was provocative, stunning, and somewhat disturbing. Her work, although seemingly unintentional, has always been controversial and slightly offensive to some. I find her thought process unique.

Quail Botanical Garden

2009-03-02T17:11:00.000-08:00

This lovely place is in Encinitas, CA. I went on this trip with Kai and Blake in hopes to view wonderful plants and photograph our journey. Although there were massive amounts of greenery, a good handful of it were different breeds of cactus. I experimented with close up shots and in the editing room, i played around with vignetting and darkened saturated contrast.

Pauma Valley Field Trip

2009-03-02T16:48:00.000-08:00

Just the term "field trip" is enough to signify the youth angst and sense of nostalgia I was feeling on my way to the Tierra Miguel Farm. Thanks to modern technology, I could pinpoint our exact location and get a solid estimate of how much longer we had until the photographic learning could commence. During the seminar on local farming and the their mission statement on food reform, the technology spoken of earlier was cause for difficulties which was a reminder of the rurality (I made that word up) we were in. It created and perpetuated the farm atmosphere I was anticipating.

After Beth spoke her words of wisdom, Jonathan took over and guided our group on an intriguing and fun-filled-photographic adventure. Although the time of year was not high crop season, there was enough for us to pick and sample from the organic earth. Often, I tend to rely on societal technological advanced to give me versatile solutions to modern living, yet I found tranquility and a sense of self-reliance when I bent down and dug a carrot out of the ground. It put up a good fight and at times I pondered the worthiness of this tedious labor but in the end I won the battle and claimed my trophy with the sweet taste of the organically grown opponent.

At the end of the evening, a sense of accomplishment was bestowed upon me. I had tried a new vegetable whose names I still can't remember, dug for my own carrot, and made photographic art all in a day's work. I have become truly inspired to eat locally and attempt to understand where the food I consume comes from rather than buy whatever is clever at the super market with little to no thought involved.

Quiz

2009-03-02T16:36:00.001-08:00

V For Vignette

Sepia

Framed

Edgy Text

Balanced

Two In One

Edward Burtynsky

2009-02-16T17:44:00.000-08:00

Of all of the photographic artist this far, I enjoy him the most. His images are always compelling and beautiful. My favorite image is the one of the torn into quarry or mine, whatever it was. It's the image I've posted with this posting (redundant). The sense of scale is breathtaking and the feeling of human accomplishment is overwhelming. He said that nature was once seen as scaling force for mankind but now mankind is doing it that to itself. It's powerful to know to capabilities that modern technology has given to us and to see it put into action in ways as this, but it's never really pondered on until placed in your face in such a magnificent manor. The landscapes he chooses have specific meaning and I and am a strong believer that if you can describe your work as an artist without hesitation and without fumble, then you'll become more successful and understood within the art community. He is incredible at that. As an artist myself, I pride myself on that very ability and and hoping that it will allow me to get into the Graduate schools I have applied for.

Da Cheetah

2009-02-16T16:34:00.000-08:00

More frame work

And I'm On One

2009-02-16T16:05:00.000-08:00

Here's the picture of a cheetah I took from Carrie (Underwood) and applied different effects and the OnOne photo frame.

Sepia toned Lovin'

2009-02-09T18:45:00.001-08:00

Eating

2009-02-09T15:19:00.000-08:00

Although my morning started off rather rough, i found a close parking spot near the front of my classroom. I had forgotten my morning snack. I sat through class doodling and day dreaming, recapturing my dream from the night before. As i walk out of class back towards my car, the heaven's gate open up a whole in the atmosphere for the drops of water to come crashing down on my water absolving clothing. I got a parking ticket and still haven't eaten a thing. On my way to Cal State from Palomar, i reluctantly stop by the closest and quickest burger king to pick up a 4 piece bag of chicken nuggets. Patience pays off as my parking luck is once again consumed by the close proximity of my parking spot. I eat my processed and pressed chicken drowned in fatty oils and salty barbecue sauce without the aid of a beverage. It is now three hours and twenty minutes later and my stomach is absolving itself yearning for more to eat. Those chicken bi products from whatever ranch sold them cheapest, processed and squeezed together on a conveyor belt then frozen and shipped to a deep fryer in San Marcos were not nearly enough for even a snack. From my diction it is clear that it is of no health value and by the crown shape of the chicken nugget, it's possible that they were grown and plucked from the most putrid and revolting plant that can possibly be conjured up but they're good enough for $1.

Mark Dion

2009-02-02T18:43:00.001-08:00

The thought process surrounding this was novel and inventive. "When a tree dies in the forest, it's life is only half over." As part of the law of conservation of matter, matter is neither created nor destroyed but forever in a constant cyclical existence of death and rebirth.

The implied artistic reality of using science in a more wild free form, although not a new concept, is rarely touched on anymore. I feel that the use of the word garden in this piece is symbolic of the natural green lands and habitations on Earth. In a traditional sense, this "garden" is far from it's title head.

Mark has given birth to new life on a dead tree. By placing it inside of an oddly and far-from-usual shaped green house, it gives the viewer a "forced perspective" to seeing the tree as something more than a tree with growth on it within an urban habitation. he implification of this new look on what's usual and typical are outstanding and quite profound. This sort of mentality is great for inspiration.

Some Images I Played With

2009-02-02T18:33:00.001-08:00

Scotty Calhoun

2009-01-26T18:06:00.000-08:00

The lake of pure sunshine is a water mass to which the sun's light hits in a full manor... Joking aside, his images are exciting and fun to look at it. I'm not normally a huge fan of color photography but these images work as a cohesive collection with a general theme of land conservation and preservation of natural wildlife. What was most interesting were his stories of his jornies rather than the images themselves. It's as if he's simply a story teller and the photographs are there are illustrations in a book. His use of the English language is suave and full of imagery. I enjoyed the section where he describes his stay at the posh local Motel 6. I wish he were invited to the party so that he could have told us in fun detail the night life of Lancaster. haha

An-My-Le

2009-01-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed her work. I feel that the subject matter is interesting and can be powerful. I feel that her black and white images were most profound and the coupling of man made and natural is purty cool. The Vietnam War was one of the nations most shameful wars mostly because it was the first and only one we've ever actually lost. Some still count it as a mutual extraction while the harsh reality is that our white flag was waving. With that said, a Vietnamese woman taking pictures and gaining clearance to parts of the American military really says a lot for tolerance and what not for the USA. Although our country is still in peril and we cannot seem to cross over completely away from bigotry, at least people can take pictures of our war machines...

Adams comma Robert

2009-01-26T17:09:00.000-08:00

I like the look of black and white photography and feel that using dead landscape can be quite compelling and powerful. However, the downside is that after looking at image after image of dry and demolished areas, the power fades away and the meaning is lost within a sense of annoyance. At the same time, those sorts of images can sway the thought process to become much more negative and cynical rather than inspirational and moving. I began to feel as if somehow mankind was at fault for the dead regions and being a part of mankind, i felt partially at blame. I understand the search for beauty amongst grotesque, but repetition of the same concept without much variation tends to alter the meaning and hinder the message. As an artist, i tend to attempt to invoke emotional sensations and if melancholy is the emotion Adams comma Robert is going for, then he did an exceptional job.

How the West was one (won)

2009-01-26T16:49:00.001-08:00

fancy little play on words. I think that the video was rather compelling and somewhat disturbing at times. That was clearly the objective. It was an interesting juxtaposition to put a decent looking Native American girl in with the graphic images of war and hardship. It was a catchy little tune but due to subject matter, i could never see it going mainstream which is truly the shameful side of the coin. It would be the side with GW Bush's face on it if he were to ever be placed on a coin.

Welcome To This Blog Post

2009-01-26T16:40:00.001-08:00

This is my inaugural blog posting to introduce you BACK to this exciting phenomena. I haven't truly written on this one in particular for quite some time and for that I kind of apologize but it's sort of half-assed...

Abolish Individualism

2008-11-01T01:18:00.000-07:00

Individualism as an American ideal needs to be abolished/ The fascist thought process of self-serviant satisfaction first/ Heads as more than just some of worst/ The figure heads down to the commonality practice this falsified belief that was tied to be tried and true/ To who does it benefit to remove oneself from the surrounding elements from once he sit?/ Love thy neighbor not thy-self/ Prove socially adequate not hypocrite and improve your mental health/ You as a generality not an impervious infallible subject of selfish existence/ Subsistence living made enough for only my living but drew the whole into deficit/ The precedent is evident among the elites and those they defeat/ I want to rise above and beat down the barrier against those who see my beliefs as inferior.

Indiscretions of a New Insomniac

2008-07-17T02:43:00.000-07:00

Regardless of what's happened since or even beforehand, I miss you. I loathe my insecurities and selfishly wish that, just to keep you here, I never displayed any form of immaturity. My nights are truthfully sleepless and my days are dull and ghostly. I'm never really here...

In this poorly drawn tragicomedy the downfall existed without a settling resolution. My weapon of mass destruction was an inhibited self confidence and I allowed the grave it rested in to be covered over. Even as an arm broke through the dirt, I shot a loaded clip to the heart and walked away tearless. Too soon I assume but I miss you...

I can't sleep without you next to me. Suppose it's not the same for you...

Pathetic...

I sound pathetic....

Prologue (edited and enhanced version)

2008-07-10T03:07:00.000-07:00

The rosy red glow brightens with every inhalation. Every time I place it to my lips, the cigarette burns down further. I exhale. My stress leaves with the smoke pouring out of my lungs through my now bitter tasting mouth. This is bliss. Every new cigarette made by the honest over-worked illegal immigrant from wherever fixes life’s little tiffs.

The link between cancer and smoking is simply a correlation — a risk I place my self at every time I decide stop caring. Blissful brown acid caresses my lungs. Temporary fixes save lives. The rest of the world plans for an indefinite future while I suck down my cigarette laughing at the lonely executive afraid to take chances. That used to be me.

The cherried tobacco goes sailing out of my window bouncing onto the car tailgating me. His window is open and the cigarette finds its way in burning his left eye. He steers into the median. His car rolls three times end over end as he’s projected out of the windshield. He lays on the pavement, brains pouring out staining the concrete a dark red. I suppose arriving at his destination two minutes earlier was worth the risk. Too bad the risk cashed in.

This asshole deserves it. He should have been wearing a seatbelt. I reach back to grab the strap of my safety harness, click it, and continue driving.

“Almost…” The prick passes in the lane next to me waving the international sign of kindness – the one that says “fuck you”. His pale skin, cheap haircut, and tattered teeth suggest he’s going to die soon anyway. My life is full of these sorts of injustices. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction, then why is this bastard getting away scot-free? Newton must’ve been wrong.

An odd noise goes off in my car. The light reminding me that I should’ve bought gas before I lost everything flashes brightly on the dash panel. This car’s so trashy I’m not even sure if the indicator’s right. I stop at the first sign of civilization.

In the middle of nowhere they don’t have credit card machines. Fancy devices that steal lives and cause bankruptcy even after your dead are nonexistent. Rural wherever-the-fuck-I-am. Whoever was the first one to think of pump-and-peal out was a genius and I am now the lemming.

In the rear-view mirror an old man in a wheel chair rolls out after me. He’s probably the owner unable to pay his medical bills from the Alzheimer’s and cancer he’s come down with. At least he has something to pass on to his kids other than debt. The only inheritance I have to offer are my piece of shit car and the clothes I was able to steal from my ex girlfriends house before she kicked me out. Erica was a bitter bitch.

The Beginnings to Chapter One

2008-07-10T03:06:00.000-07:00

The glow burns brighter and this is the third one. Sometimes I ponder as to whether or not my O.C.D. is just a mental fuck trap – Is it nature or nurture?

With my disease satisfied by the new toxic level, I flick the butt into a nearby fountain and flick the open air off my fingers twice more.

My antagonisms and angst are intensified. My smoking used to leave me calm and collected but I can’t seem to grab the same head-change. Define irony — cathartic releasing purged about via smoking being the original intention now causes more of the very thing it’s suppose to free me of. I’m trapped within my own addiction. From a broad epiphany it seems to part way into all facets of my existence – being trapped, not the addiction part.

I gradually begin to move back towards the front door of my office. I find trouble in working up the courage to take the first stride towards an unrewarding and pointless living. That’s all my life is – pointless movements working towards a bitter end. The more steps I take, the more I become included with an unusual feeling of false satisfaction.

I’ll become someone unable to be forgotten.

These words mutter underneath my breath. I am my own motivational speaker. This makes me think of Adlin Sinclair, “Success is a welcomed gift for the uninhabited mind.” Whatever that bullshit means. At least I’m not living in a van down by the river.

“Mr. Connelly is waiting for you Jared.”

The instant I sit down at my desk looking over the city, my view becomes interrupted by words. My sweet secretary. Veronica looks the way Erin the cartoon character from the E-surance commercials would look if she were nonfiction; small waist, perfect breasts, and a gorgeous face. Her strident voice is her only let down. It’s worse than Fran Dresher’s voice tuned up to mimic the chipmunks.

“Thank you Veronica. By the way, next time wear some high heels. Those ballerina-looking shoes are hideous.”

Repulsive.

“Your outfit would be perfect with a nice pair of six-inch designer pumps.”

“You really think so?”

Of course I do. You’re a beautiful girl and you have the figure to pull off something more… reveling, you know, not so… conservative.

Her dad must have left her when she was a child. Some people can hide their affirmation issues better than others.

“Wow thanks Jared!”

2008-07-10T02:13:00.000-07:00

Hey now, overcome your concern about the weather/ And whether or not I'm still alive/ check the vital signs/ So soft spoken and shy/ never gets high anymore/ Did you poison my food, forgive me I'm paranoid of you/ I've been lying wide awake paralyzed by the buzzing of the television/ These modern things we know, getting you off

The Last Time I Went Swimming

2008-07-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

A lot has been brought to my attention that I was unaware of when I jumped into the shallow end of a unmarked black-bottom pool expecting twelve feet of water under me. The glassiness of the surface suggested sanity and calm-like conditions ideal for a swim when all it really meant was there was no outside wind and all of the craziness and chaos was under the visible surface mask. Beneath the falsified normality was an underwater hurricane awaiting an unsuspecting victim. Hurricane Superficial was the name they gave it. Most of these storms in the San Diego area tend to brew in the immediate Del Mar/ Torrey Pines region.

I jump in and hit bottom over the course of days. I was searching for deep and decided to explore the area longer. My unsuspecting nature allowed a hostile takeover of fluid solid motion and all i was left with was a rag-doll body getting tossed around. I'm not waving, I'm drowning.
Thankfully there's friendly hands to pull me out and not tell me "I told you so" after I learned my lesson.

I should have seen the warning signs...

::: WARNING ::: I'm unable to socialize well with others.
::: CAUTION ::: I'm a hopeless romantic who treats girls like princesses.
::: WARNING ::: Caring is now considered immature.
::: CAUTION ::: If you don't "F.I.T." the bill, don't bother attempting to swim. You Will Drown.
::: WARNING ::: I write this for pleasure, not out of pain. I'm not hurting. Don't worry, you weren't that good.

and p.s. F.I.T stands for "Fag In Training" or metro or whatever you call that type of guy you're into. You know, the yuppy Del Mar kid who hasn't left home either... Remember how i told you the story of my friends back in Ventura who haven't grown up or changed because they haven't left home? Well I hope you thought of yourself while i was telling that story... I hope you get mad at the situation, not at me and decide to change something for the betterment of yourself. I only want to see you flourish and become who you are meant to be. Swim in quick succession towards your aspirations, don't drown in Del Mar. You were right though, I wasn't right for you. I could have kept you here for another year if you would have let me and then you would have hated yourself more than you hate me right now after reading this... Let me know where you go in life! Who knows, maybe we'll run into each other in Spain or wherever.

Whatever.... Better?

2008-07-03T22:58:00.000-07:00

This is what it feels like to be not wanted. Feels familiar. Yeah you're the only one reading this (if even that). This is my journal, my diary, my emotions released. So the timing isn't right for you. Yeah thats fine but don't get pissed at me for pointing out your flaws in the relationship. If it's not right then so be it. I am not another Dillon but I know that that's what you'll say about me. Maybe I'm not the problem... No wait, it's all my fault.... Always...

Whatever... better?

I liked, no, LIKE you but if it's not reciprocated then that's how it is. Whatever. I just wish i didn't feel played. If something seems to good to be true it usually is... Case proven. I'm done...

Life and rebel is like God and The Devil

2008-07-03T01:05:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep! My mind is running faster than the speed of light and my body is trying to keep up. I've been bored since i got off of work and haven't been invited to go out and do anything so my loser self stayed home. I'm stuck here with insomnia thinking more than i should about my life. What else is there to do though? When life gives me lemons i think about them and analyze them trying to decide how i feel about them. I hold it up to a 65 billion times magnifying glass under a 3000 watt florescent light bulb picking at the tiniest of flaws and feeling more insecure about them. Why couldn't i get vodka and water with my lemons? That's a good time. Although i hate Tom Cruise, it's true how you can't enjoy the sweet without the bitter... or sour whatever the hell the quote is.

They say that the mind is more powerful than we let on. Well my mind can make 3000 watt florescent light bulbs exist which is so unnecessary. I just want to think within the box for once and use a less efficient but still effective 60 watt incandescent light bulb and instead of a magnifying glass, why not just the naked eye? Those minuet details wouldn't even show up and stay hidden from scrutiny. Possibly could then those yellow spheres ripen orange and instead of focusing on the fruit I'm given, i could enjoy the sweet flavor of my labors. Waiting is labor-intensive. Well how much would three years cost if you payed by the hour? The answer is 14.2% of a lifetime. Thats a large percentage to go without what you want.

Unfortunately it only took me 6% (of 100%) of the 14.2% to cause a disturbance, a break in the fluid sine curve (which at this point has a greater distance between peaks thankfully). Self-sabotage on the unconscious level. I've found out more recently that it's always best to keep around your best friends who know you better than anyone else. I was told that i have a pattern of over analytical creation of insecurities and that what i have now is good for not playing into that. I should learn from my circumstance and not be a "fucking idiot". I'm not the most liked guy around because of my actions right now. Everyone seems to know exactly what i should have known all along. I think too much and say what I'm thinking even though i know i shouldn't because it's a temporary thought that would have just gone away had i not made a scene.

Lemons... Apparently I'm a self-contained ecosystem manufacturing my own. Life didn't give these me, I stole them from the tree. Life warned me. My inner rebel decided not to listen but the rest of me is the part that has to deal with the consequences. Life and rebel is like God and The Devil. I need to fix this before it gets worse and i lose the one thing that makes me listen to life....

My New Found Phoenix (for myself)

2008-07-02T23:27:00.000-07:00

Trapped in an uncertainty/ that relates to every important aspect/ makes it hard to see the next move/ and clearly it’s not as easy as it seems/ Strife struggles to not show through/ yet these blue skies are painted hues of gray/ and maybe the sphere we orbit around will shine a smile my way/ difficulty formulates it’s own opinion of the matter at hand/ while the pitter pattering heart requests life support in higher demand/ all’s well that end’s badly is my creed/ this thickening black skin covering my blood siphon is the stipulation of my new breed/ nice guys finish first in a world without hurt/ but agony is the glue sticking me together/ and petty optimism is not of true need/ from the ashes rises new fire covered pain/ this boiling water sticks to my skin unlike bird’s feathers in rain/ I can see clearly now, the rain’s stuck around/ and this circumstantial confidence crown has be tossed back into the melting pot/ the jewels removed and hawked at the closest pawn shop/ and I’m suddenly a hemophiliac whose emotions won’t clot

This is how we met

2008-06-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

So this party back five years past the millennium of the second passing is the introduction. Celebrating the forthcoming of the 6th strolling of 365 days was a beast (asshole) in nice clothes but a beauty in a little black dress was too sweet for him. Super bowls brought on a gathering where two points make a line their wondrous eyes constantly and consistently held it true. Suns fell and moons rose but the high held emotion froze. It didn't deplete nor gain stronger standing but the stars aligned right for a 21 years after birth celebration brought those emotions to motion. He tripped up again but her unforgiving grudge-holding heart unusually forgave. (to be continued)

I'm sorry

2008-06-23T23:49:00.001-07:00

I wrote things in a previous entry that was a little "far-fetched" and i would to tell you that i truly am sorry and that i was too quick to judge a happening that was way less than it seemed. I suppose my insecurities from previous relationships with shitty girls superseded my logic and allowed me to think in a foul manor about someone who is genuinely a good girl. You're great babe! I couldn't have asked for anything more! (yeah I'm being sappy, deal with it!)

A Work in Progress (written a little while ago)

2008-06-23T23:18:00.000-07:00

I jumped in expecting greatness and got a mediocre work in progress/ Successes superseding the superficial lustful urgencies urging me into a dormant icy hot springs/ contemplations so illicitly exploiting me by means of the smallest of things/ while dreams perpetually allow me to gain a newer perspective whether positive or not/ This sullen flesh wound is beginning to rot/ This metaphorical wildfire forces me to abandon all that I've got/ and the eulogy at my own funeral pyre doesn't bring on drops of tears/ not even a spot/ It's not that my fantasy's steal me from reality but my reality's not real enough for me/ These feelings, bringing down the king's crown drowning my tomorrow's sorrowful playful list of chores/It's my life without yours/ but dying suddenly like the lizard king from Doors/ is a rider on the storm flying in full fledged form/ Then it's empty/ The sound of silence can be deafening/ this constant ringing is persistent singing of melodic pessimistic tunes/ forever ceases progression by ritual succession effortlessly/ my monumental goal set just lays there in ruins...

Read My Other Blog Too!!

2008-06-02T23:00:00.000-07:00

Boost my popularity rating and gain some solid knowledge too! Good Hits For Sure! www.15minutedate.com/blog

Afterword...

2008-05-22T13:26:00.001-07:00

So i think too much....

If You Hate Titles You'll Find Yourself With One

2008-05-22T00:16:00.000-07:00

So now that school is out, i haven't ever really blogged on this. The title is appropriate for this specific entry however. Love is a game that is hard to strategize and hard to determine your current status. Shit, even liking someone is the same kind of game. The most interesting thing for me right now is determining what stage of the game I'm in. Is it casual? a little more but not yet a full fledged relationship? what the fuck is it? I can understand people's dislike towards "titles" but in the same respect, what you don't like about it just so happens to be the very thing everyone likes most. Typically those who claim to not want or like titles are saying something different. Behind their words lie a much deeper and more truthful meaning...

What they should say (or mean to say) is, "I want to remain single right now because i'm not sure that you are the best thing out there right now." In singularity is simplicity ostensibly. On the contrary, it is just as easy to make things as (if not more) difficult by abstaining from that "title".

What the fuck ever really...

Not only have I tied off loose ends and burned bridges (in some cases partially) to be with this girl. I am and have been putting away a lot of "potential energy" as well as jeopardizing a friendship for things to happen with her only to be told to take things slowly and that a relationship right now is going to fast. We've been hanging out and hooking up as if we were already together so what's the fucking difference? I have a feeling that (contrary to what was previously foretold by my friend who put our friendship on the line) I won't be the one fucking the other person over. I'll get the sharp end of the sword, the barrel end of the gun, whatever you feel like calling it.

This is what i get for putting too much of myself out there. When will it ever be the right amount? If it's not too much it's too little. If it's not too soon it's too late. If the timing seems too good to be true, it most likely is... What is she running from? Is a title really that much to her that she can conveniently be "single" on her trip to Cabo and to San Fran? Wait.... isn't "single" a title also??? The dichotomy of our very existence. Everything is hypocritical. For every action is an equal and opposite reaction... I guess the same holds true for hating titles? If you hate titles you'll find yourself with one...

Robt Williams

2008-04-29T19:26:00.000-07:00

This is an artist who apprenticed under Ed Roth who is a famous Hot Rod Artist. This guy has some really trippy stuff and i strongly suggest looking into this work. Some things are somewhat disturbing but at the same time it gets you thinking about the piece a lot more. check him out: http://www.robtwilliamsstudio.com/

Subcycle

2008-04-29T18:10:00.000-07:00

This is a musical artist that i was introduced to through a friend. I haven't heard of them anywhere else but i really enjoyed their website and thought that their music was quite profound! I would strongly suggest looking into them! Go here: subcycle.org

My New Book Has Finally Arrived!!!

2008-04-19T21:09:00.000-07:00

Check it out!!!!

Poetic:

A Collection of Sap...

By Zane Trae Kearney

Book Preview

Poetic pages 6-9

2008-03-11T19:43:00.001-07:00

LISTEN

2008-02-23T20:53:00.000-08:00

I've got some of my music hits up on a website. Check it out and feel free to leave feedback.
myspace.com/zanetrae oh and don't forget to add me if you're a friend to myspace. If not, you can still view the profile and listen in.

one

The Starting Point of "Poetic"

2008-02-19T19:21:00.001-08:00

and More...

2008-02-12T20:20:00.001-08:00

The first piece is a collaboration between a friend Rib 1 and yours truly. The other is a piece thats just something i did on photoshop. i suggest viewing the larger view of it.

More...

2008-02-12T20:19:00.001-08:00

The next picture says "and even as we may drift from the peace of heart to gather piece of mind just understand that i'm here through thick and thin you'll need me there more and you'll find that out eventually and when that day comes i'll be here waiting..."

My Artwork

2008-02-12T20:13:00.001-08:00

This image is a painting i did that is 5ft tall by 4ft wide.

Don't Ever Question That

2008-02-12T19:48:00.001-08:00

Untitled

2008-02-07T17:29:00.000-08:00

Sitting throughout the thoughts fulfilling engagements of life's stressful existence is not something i strive for. I'm a thinker however and tend to lean upon the understandings thrown before me. I am here. Wishful dispositions contrived by my never-relenting co-inhibitions described within simple poetic verses. Controlled mechanisms overturn the very fabric i have woven. Computer generations intended for making life easier by complication. I am no longer near.

My Book for Artist's Books Course

2008-02-05T17:38:00.000-08:00

I have no idea what my book will be about. I suppose it can be my catharsis for this world i endure. Randomness and releasal of emotional life coasters. Maybe i can use this as my poetic flow coupled with imagery and compassionate free form molding compelling myself into this cluster-f**k of a life I call my own. Maybe this will be a biography through poetry. Who knows? Apparently I'm suppose to know because it's the 3rd week of class.... We'll see what comes

Helvettica Revisited

2008-01-29T19:55:00.000-08:00

I especially liked the idea of putting type on the mans face. I enjoy using type and words in my artwork and in order to be able to display my poetry in different ways is exciting. In doing so, my poetry takes on a whole new meaning when i do that. By using the type and art work to go with it it's like what the guy said, unimark. I'm displaying my ideas in unison using two different mediums. It's almost a type of graphitti i feel but without the whole vandalism aspect.

I win

2008-01-29T19:18:00.001-08:00

Helvettica Intuitive

2008-01-22T18:26:00.000-08:00

It's interesting to see the grunge font types that were once all the rage, start to become dismembered and thrown aside. Granted, a lot of work these days still has a large amount of it being used, but the newest ideas are returning to the older thought processes and expanding it further. I, like many other graphic artists, have fallen victim to the standard use of grunge. It has an interesting feel to it but nowadays it's all too common. I rather enjoyed David Carson's theories on graphic work. To teach a classroom how to make a good business card is much different than sitting down the same class, playing a CD for them, and having them create a cover. Most of the people would create things that are cliche and expected where there might be one or two individuals who actually create something worth looking at. The abstract display of an emotional feeling or connection to what has been heard is much harder to teach than something so mechanical as a business card. I am someone who loves to use text in art. I often use text in my art rather than focusing solely on the words displayed. At any rate, I feel that the use of grunge text styles has got to go.

A Prologue to My First Real Book

2008-01-22T18:04:00.000-08:00

Prologue

The rosy red glow brightens with every inhalation. Every time I place it to my lips, the cigarette burns down further. I exhale. My stress leaves with the smoke pouring out of my lungs through my now bitter tasting mouth. This is bliss. Every new cigarette made by the honest over-worked illegal immigrant from wherever.

The link between cancer and smoking is simply a correlation, a risk I place my self at every time I decide to not care. Blissful brown acid caresses my lungs. I forget my day’s troubles and blow it into the wind. Temporary fixes save lives. The rest of the world plans for an indefinite future while I suck down my cigarette laughing at the chumps afraid to take chances.

The cherried tobacco goes sailing out of my window bouncing onto the car deciding to tailgate me. It bounces into his open window burning his left eye as he steers out of control and into the median. His car rolls three times in the air as he’s flung out of the windshield. Asshole deserves it. Should’ve worn a seatbelt. I strap mine on and continue on my journey to who knows where.

“Almost…” I think out loud as the prick passes in the lane next to me waving a big “fuck you.”

His pale skin, cheap haircut, and tattered teeth suggest he’s going to die soon anyway. I feel unjust. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction, then why is this bastard getting away scot-free? Newton must’ve been wrong.

An odd noise goes off in my car. The light that suggests I’m too broke to buy gas for this piece of shit reminds me of my short comings so I drive to the nearest gas station. In the middle of nowhere they don’t have credit card machines, those fancy devices that steal lives and have your children pay for the things I need right now after I’m dead, so rather than pay then pump, I pump first and leave second.

An old man in a wheel chair rolls out after me, probably the owner unable to pay his medical bills from the Alzheimer’s and cancer he’s come down with, but oddly I feel no sympathy. I need sympathy, not him. At least he has something to pass on to his kids. The only inheritance I have to offer are my piece of shit Honda Del Sol and the clothes I was able to steal from my ex girlfriends house before she kicked me out. Erica was a bitter bitch.

How I came to be where I am, driving on some unmapped highway at 3:23 in the morning is worth noting. My name is Jared and I am a victim. This type of shit is not something someone simply creates out of thin air. This is as real as life gets.

I was once an up and coming young professional on the fast track to wealth and fame. I lived in a fancy condo in some filing cabinet in the middle of Metropolitan America. I ate at fancy restaurants, drank expensive wines and shook hands with some of the most powerful names that head some of the biggest American corporations. What I actually did for a living isn’t important. Just know that I could have been someone.

My name is Jared and I have obsessive compulsive disorder. I lock my doors three times before leaving. Every time I smoke, I smoke three cigarettes, each only half way. When I would get dressed in the morning in my Hugo Boss suits, each article would have to be put on and removed three times before it stayed on permanently. They say that all things good come in threes. The number three is my living hell.

My disorder is what allowed me to study hard enough throughout college to graduate magna com lade. I would reread all of my text books three times; rewrite my papers over and over again. My O.C.D., my discerning burden, is what gave me my successful job. I was a contributor to every American’s need to want more. I was a consumerist advocate that fed off the ability to make people believe there was a need they wanted to have fulfilled and ironically, my company’s products filled that need. My actual job title and position isn’t important, just know that I was a major player to the company’s success.