Emotive expression Journal Entries

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• Chinese & Amsterdam Storeys
  by Maxwell Edward

  “Good afternoon Gentlemen. Our delicious Chinese restaurant serves some of the greatest Chinese delicacies. Can I take your orders?” J…

  “Good afternoon Gentlemen. Our delicious Chinese restaurant serves some of the greatest Chinese delicacies. Can I take your orders?” Jermaine takes charge as usual. “I imagine you can sir. Well my friend will have special fried rice and I will have special sweet n sour chicken. Could you make sure it’s especially sweet n sour though? Thanks sir.” People love to eat Chinese. More often the meals though…for the appetisers may prove too fattening over time. Neville and Jermaine have definitely had their share of fattening up over time. Neville is said to eat more Chinese than most Chinese and as for Jermaine, he probably eats more of most things than most people. “Jerry, don’t you think it’s strange how he mentioned they serve some of the greatest Chinese delicacies?” Jermaine who finds nothing short of highly unusual strange, makes a joke from anything less of great importance. “_Why_? What did you expect in a Chinese Restaurant, Indian food?” Neville who hears these jokes more often than not (but still not in appreciation of them) seems to always be misunderstood. “No, I mean, we’re not Chinese. I can’t see anyone in here that is Chinese…In fact I would say that the only Chinese this restaurant ever sees is on the plates. So, they could get away with telling us that this restaurant actually serves the greatest Chinese delicacies. Why would they not?” Jermaine’s opinion always went back to philosophy. “Some wise advice I have for you Nev. Never question the Chinese.” Something about the way the duo talked, it was utter enjoyment. The puns continuously employed emphasised it. A certain kind of pleasure whenever they accompanied one another was unleashed. “Oh Jerry, you got to hear about what happened to my cousin. _You’ll never believe it_…So Ben was in Amsterdam for some time, on holiday or something. Well on the last week he jumped off the top of a three-storey apartment balcony.” Jermaine who believes most things reasonable, but also hesitates in jumping to conclusions always feels obliged to question the situation. “Why the hell would anyone do something like that?” Neville started blushing. He was never as outgoing as Jermaine, even being questioned made him feel slightly insecure. “Well Jerry, you know my cousin Benjamin. No one questions him.” A certain kind of tension was building somewhere between Nevilles growing timidity and Jermaine’s pursuing nerves. “I think anyone thinking about jumping off the third storey of an apartment should be prepared to answer a lot of questions.” There was an uncomfortable short-lived silence between the duos. Neville thought of it as his responsibility to protect his cousin’s reputation, yet his loyalty had previously shown to lead to misdemeanours. Neville decided to break his loyalty for what his reason was telling him was sensibility. “Yeah Jermaine, agreed. Benjamin sure must be a moron hey. Oh, which reminds me, did I tell you he is going to become a lawyer?” The Chinese waiter had brought back the dishes. This is possibly the fastest time a waiter had brought out dishes (which were supposed to be quality cuisines). Then again, Jermaine and his friends always had their doubts about Chinese restaurants. Over their many meals they had discussed many things ranging from the health issues to the political and economic consequences of the different restaurant franchises. The Chinese waiter did not talk this time. He had a chilling frown cast upon his face. Perhaps he had heard their talking? Perhaps it was just the all-round atmosphere of working in such a demanding service. Jermaine and Neville dug into their meals, each choosing their pick of chop sticks and spoon respectively although ironically not in quite a disorderly manner. It was only lucky that Neville chose a spoon for the fried rice to prevent any more mess (if more mess were possible). “So Nev, back to the story; now that you tell me Mr. Benjamin wants to be a lawyer…that makes much more sense; their all lying bastards. This is one big story to you in order to gain your sympathy or something. It can’t really be explained, except that he is behind it all…” “Not true. I saw his bandages and cuts and sores; everything. That can’t really be faked.” “I’m sure for a lawyer, anything can be faked. Any kind of falsehood can be created and unleashed by those guys!” “No seriously. Okay here’s the story, he said he went to a party. He got pretty drunk knowing it was his last week. Who knows maybe he even did…goddamn man it’s Amsterdam! I don’t have to mention the possibilities, their limitless! Anything could have happened. Well anyway, he woke up and that is when the nurse told him what had been reported to her.” “You know what this sounds like? Chinese whispers. She said this; he said that, you say this…” Sceptical Jermaine could never let any possibility go. “Okay whatever, whatever.” Neville had enough. This sort-of-debate had turned into a sort-of-argument. It was time for him to try and change the mannerism of things “Hey Jerry, this kind of talking is probably not good for eating, let’s just eat okay. I mean just the other day I saw the scars and bleeding…well you know.” Eating continued. Polite (enough) slurping of Chinese tea and rice among other things died down the sound of thought. Than Jermaine continued speaking, but not where they left off. “Hey Nev, I’ll be back in a minute. Just have to convenience myself!” Neville sat there. Five minutes boring his intellect- no one to talk to! Jermaine returned. Back to his meal; back to messy eating and the hope of more polite interesting talk. Before Neville had seen it, Jermaine had finished the rest of his special sweet n sour. “Hey Neville, are you still feeling hungry at all?” Before Neville had a chance to reply Jermaine had beckoned the waiter over and ordered “Special Chinese fortune cookies”. The cookies came in no time at all again. It made it seem like there was surely something efficiently magical about this restaurant. “Hey Nev, can you tell me about this story a bit more. So would you get this, I actually heard about a story similar to his; actually two stories, exactly like his…they both sort of were like these crazy stories where these things happened to guys in…well Chinese restaurants actually!” Neville was only half listening, except the information was still unconsciously processing into his mind. He opened his fortune cookie. “No I do not believe it! Coincidences of such do not occur! Madness unleashed!” Neville started shaking intensely, trembling, his usual steady figure rumbling in what looked like fear; his skin pale and pupils dilating and goose bumps on his skin forming. Than he shoved his hands over his head and continued his fearful actions half-hidden by the table. Jermaine grabbed the little slice of Chinese paper, it must be not so fortunate whatever the fortune be he thought! “You will suffer falling three-storeys tonight. Do not question the Chinese” They both sat there; Jermaine seemingly doing and thinking nothing except watching the actions of Neville. Neville with his behaviour turning more and more intense and shocking as seconds progressed and turned into minutes. “Neville!” Neville took no notice, for a moment, to only a moment later reply, “What? Don’t you fucking get this? Can’t you see what’s happening?” Jermaine looked at his watch. Five minutes. Long enough…longer would be dangerous perhaps. “My good friend Neville. I have a confession. I put that note in your cracker…it’s to teach you a lesson really. But it’s also quite a cracker now too to think of it! You should have seen the look on your face! And my friend, I’ll tell you the moral of the story…Question anything with suspicion, even the Chinese, otherwise who knows what will be unleashed!”

• André’s creation: eclectic pleasures
  by Maxwell Edward

  Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words…

  Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words. This jazzy rendezvous has always been André’s favourite ear-food. He just loves the way its beauty, splendour, radiance is ‘unleashed’. André stares at the canvas for over a dozen times. Here he is staring at the blank space which is future marvel…or was it to be past marvel? Had he missed his chance, missed the boat which would have sailed to sentimental stardom? He refuses to collaborate more than a sentence for any one idea. Any idea that deserves a sentence must deserve no doubt. Any canvas is only worth the greatest ideas. Two André’s exist; though only one at any one time. The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions. On rare occasions the other character may appear, the intensive, massively determined André who acts on impulses. Impulsive André must be begged out. A Pandora’s Box of surprises, his job will at least never cease to astonish. “Dearest André, Through years have you befriended my son Louis, so therefore I am offering an opportunity to benefit both of our interests (with intent towards your gain). Litton inc., my company has stepped up towards mainstream success. We require visual arts for our newly bought edifice. I understand you have been painting for the eight years since high school. To your discretion I would like to require a painting; just one will suffice. I would like something vibrant and colourful, yet deep and meaningful; Contemporise to your own vision. Much thanks, Dr. Raymond Fonck.” The commissioned paper lies stuck on the wall. André has read it. Now it is time for the future. It has been too long sitting around (or rather bouncing around); too get too much productivity from anything. Someone once said to him that anything is good experience. True perhaps, although he prefers productivity, especially in a time of intensity such as this; three days left until confrontation. His vigilant eyes stroll around the room, searching for advice. He is not bored, nor has he painters block, for such a term does not exist and will not ever for him. His eyes strike the clock. The clock glares 5:48 pm back. What a disgusting fierce look it has. Not 5:45, nor 6:00 and only one uncomfortable minute in-between. For at this time these uncomforting three digits add to the frustration in the actual time. “Aw!” André suddenly realizes the importance of the time. It is the one factor which never seems to be on his side but actually encourages his total progress. It is an epiphany like that of a mother to the newborn. André decides to let his hands take / control. They are the secret key, (sometimes the gatekeepers of unleashing impulsive André) His dominant left one picks up the brush (over time it has made up for its fault of statistically losing him seven years). His right hand decides to lose cognition. It dips itself into a little puddle of Sangria oil paint muck. Than it flies onto the near-centre of the canvas, smeared diagonally. His left hand takes initiative once again, waving lines of smudge to and fro. Right hand brings more paint to its destination. Myrtle, Indigo, Olive, Magnolia…and no, not that…Yes, yes, even black! (Well seal brown to be precise). All of these contextually beautiful colours unleashed! There are no thoughts in André’s mind now. This is impulsive André now; organised thought is of little importance! That colour is important here. This colour is unimportant there. A few lines of any colour are important right here or there, but perhaps a darker colour is better. More negative space up and down the edges. Shape is forming. Lines are bolding. Complete non-representational form is diminishing. Visualizations; the visualized images in mind are being…unloaded bit by bit. It is coming about. What is it though? No one knows. If anybody could guess it definitely would not be André. André knows he has the power to bring out the reality in it though. In a seemingly paradox situation he must not connect to reality at the moment though. Now, after these hours of painting, André is in the painting. He would not know it has been hours besides the constant glare of the illuminating digital clock staring from across the room; it unconsciously processes its recognition into André. The phone screams out, ‘br-ring, br-ring!’ Like the other external matter it creeps into André, until finally its screams become too annoying to ignore. It’s too late now…impulsive André has vanished; his conventional counterpart has replaced him. The phone persists though. André decides to take it (typical for his returned mannerism). He dives across the room horizontally attacking the corner where that nuisance phone lies. ‘Aw, aw, aw, aw!’ A tube of paint has squirt from underneath his stomach. Agonising that his material friend can be so painful at times (like any of his life long friends). He picks up the phone; only the tone. He has missed whatever, whoever it was. Once again, missing the boat… Now thought and all that comes with it has returned. Why now out of all times possible? There is only sadness, misery, all this escalated from these small miniscule misfortunes; all has turned to turmoil! What can one do, when feeling like crawling into a hole? His secret minor disorders such as his claustrophobia would prevent him from crawling into that hole, even if he had one. At the moment everything feels like one big hole. Not surprisingly André’s eyes begin doing the only thing they know to do in times of unrest; wander. It is impossible to ignore what is there; it has been there all along, yet has never been seen. It is beautiful! It is splendour! It is radiance!! It is interrupted by another scream of ‘br-ring br-ring’. André picks up the damn phone. Without contemplation he whispers, “Sir, madam, I’m very terribly busy, could you perhaps call back sometime?” A deep sophisticated voice replies, “Raymond Fonck, André. Listen, I need to know about the progress of the painting. How is it going; ready to sell on Friday?” Many emotions garner at the speed of light inside André allows these emotions to clash inside of him. The painting; it is beautiful, splendour, radiance! How could he give it away now, after an indescribable series of emotional contributions? It is something that has not been attempted before; yet it is new but the expression of old. It is everything, at the moment, hopefully containing more interpretive inoculations for the future. It is a subject, of just some time, yet it contains a collaboration of detail separated from time. It is…once again interrupted by screams, this time of another sort; the infuriating talking of man. “André. Are you there?” Feelings of great rebellion sweep André off his feet. He knows how he will revolutionize his life, because after all; this painting has revolutionized his thought already. “Mister Fonck. I am so sorry. Some things have come over me…a type of sickness…although I am sure you are not aware of this mad syndrome I am suffering due to it. Well to the point, I must say I will not be supplying you with your wanted artwork. Thank you for your understanding. Hopefully we can collaborate something in future.” André hangs the phone up without replies, without a stated understanding from the mister Fonck. Without even the knowledge of acceptance or approval from the mister Fonck…it does not matter. All that matters is this new painting, this contemporised vision. It is everything. Most importantly of all, it is…unleashed!

• SilentCries making progress.. Thank you~
  by frozenfa

  Hi All!! it’s rather unexpected.. but my other gallery here, SilentCries has been slowly ma…

  Hi All!! it’s rather unexpected.. but my other gallery here, SilentCries has been slowly making progress.. There have been features which i didn’t realise until today when i decide to click on the feeds.. oops.. eheh.. Am very very thankful for the following features.. / / “Dear Pillow…” was featured in the group Shanime: Inspired by Anime’ 19 days ago / and featured in the group the love of The Love of Eerie and Enchanting Artwork 13 days ago… and… My latest tee there, Hold Me… / / was featured in the group Shanime: Inspired by Anime’ about today. And the print version, was featured in Burst > Anime and Manga! today too!! =D / Thank you so very much to all the group admins!! The print version of Dear Pillow also managed to receive a TBA over at Zazzle on the 20th Nov 08 / there haven’t been any sales yet, but i’m really thankful and appreciative enough of all the lovely lovely responses am getting for my designs/writings there.. Karin had been especially kind to comment on so many of my pieces over at my zazzle’s SilentCries gallery thank you so so much for all of them, Karin.. they’re very encouraging and am very thankful for them all.. am really happy to see the responses am getting for my latest work there, Hold Me… am glad that my style there is accepted and even more touched to read the comments there, that my work is expressive enough.. urm.. can’t type much more, for some weird reason my right arm decides to burn and hurt like a ahem ahem.. it’s very painful like it’s being twisted.. think i must have strained it somehow.. doesn’t help that i slept on the floor last night.. argh!! signing off… / ~fa PS: lil fraz was also featured in thick black outlines 17 days ago as a Happy Birthday!! card /

• be good at it
  by sunset

  This is an article in progress about ‘how to be good at it’. ‘What do you mean?’ says your brain. Well, today’s topic is photoshop….

  This is an article in progress about ‘how to be good at it’. ‘What do you mean?’ says your brain. Well, today’s topic is photoshop. (PS) If you’re going to use a PS feature, be good at it. Hmmm. ‘Is that a swipe? How do I know?’ Brain asks. ‘What is good?” Good question. Chances are, if you are new to it, you will use every filter available. Create every extreme possible. Solarize! Invert! Layers! Oh mi god-finally I can stretch out my body and be taller than everyone! Shazam! Not that anyone will notice. Ahem. Except the friends who know you. And people who’ve used photoshop for awhile. Now. That is not a swipe. That is just an awareness (though I’ve heard many express this opinion as a swipe): when peoplea re new to PS, they tend to over do it a bit. Now, having said that, I reckon (and I will say this a lot) that the only way to be good at it is to play. PLAY! have fun. Does it matter other people are more experienced? So your mum and dad learnt to walk before you-they didn’t mind teaching you. They loved it. They just got to practice earlier in history. Once you were up and running, you could do it better. For awhile. Then you learnt to pace yourself. And now you’re sitting in front of a computer. Probably just like them. It’s evolution. So anyways. Like the kid with a new toy, you love it more than anyone. Because it’s new to you. And they have played with it before. So they let you be. Every now and then, they get excited for you too, and say Yes! walk… (hang on, have I made this point?) Anyhow. You learn a lot from the balance of being left to have a go yourself, and been shown how. People walked around you, it was expected you’d learn to walk yourself eventually. Did the people around you say, step, step step. At the beginning, yes. At the beginning, hands were held, arms reached out. (then no one tells you how to walk-you just do it) Alright already with the metaphors! So what are the steps? Well. that above objective was clear. Stand, walk. Know which direction you wanted to take. Head towards it. Same with photoshop. To go from toddler, to proud walker, I advise the following- Ask yourself: what is the point? Do I want to make my 5yold look like a solarized tripper? What am I trying to say about this 5yo? Does he take drugs already? Do you see a future in it for them? Does he make me see the world differently? (of course! I get it now! It was my interpretation that let me down!) Do you want the image to be about colour and pattern etc. Question 2: am I doing this to make the photo look better-because it’s not very interesting now. Aha! if you answered yes-therein lies the problem. If you think the photo is a bit ordinary…chances are, a bit of wild funky will jazz it up! Hmm. Ok. Sure it will. Also, if you have to explain why (and I mean, there is a difference between subtle and self explanatory and just…) the message may not be clear. This is a big lesson to be learnt about making an image interesting. I learnt it from a photographer friend- there doesn’t need to be weird angles (and wild PS) to make an image interesting. It can be part of it. Remember not to RELY on it. An interesting photo tells a story, reveals something, shows emotion, colour, light, texture, life, joy, sadness, personal, external…unlimited things. It does. It’s true, what one person loves, another may be apathetic. As this experience if for you, expresses you, etc etc, remember, this ‘l-earn’ing is for you…so keep this is mind and as long as you’re satisfied, I will share this for your benefit. cheers / Sam

• When is it ART?
  by christiane

  Just wondering when something falls into the art category. / Is it when someone says it is? / Is it when someone thinks its is? / Does it n…

  Just wondering when something falls into the art category. / Is it when someone says it is? / Is it when someone thinks its is? / Does it need to have value? / Does it need an explaination? / When it is the cause of controversy? / When it evokes emotion or not? Just trying to figure out what art really is – for me it is a personal expression of who i am.

• Getting motivated - deadlines? peaceful? sad?
  by Jean Burke

  What gets you motivated to do an artwork, especially when art isn’t central to your work? / I find I tend only to finish a piece of art t…

  What gets you motivated to do an artwork, especially when art isn’t central to your work? / I find I tend only to finish a piece of art to meet a deadline – birthday or Christmas if it’s going to be a gift, or to meet assignment schedules, or because a book needs illustrations or a front cover. Even though that’s what seems to push me, once I’m doing it I get right into “the flow”, you know when time seems to stop. / But one of my sons only found out he could do clever cartoons when he was depressed, and now he is not, he doesn’t do them anymore! / But conversely I have several friends who can’t concentrate on art or craft when depressed, until they have some space to feel peace. / Strange how people can be so different and need different conditions to be expressive visually. / I am just wondering if you work best to deadlines, or when feeling at peace, or when down?