Interpretation 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!

• New Competition
  by home page

  Already mentioned below, but there is a new competition Bubblers… and competitions deserve to be mentioned twice! This time co-ordin…

  Already mentioned below, but there is a new competition Bubblers… and competitions deserve to be mentioned twice! This time co-ordinated by Bobdollar – check it out at http://www.redbubble.com/forums/5/topics/30 Everyone has a favourite song – how would you interpret it visually?! Show your interest on the forum page, and RedBubble will provide a prize for the best entry.

• For The Bible Tells Me So
  by Daniel Rarela

  Below are the links to the documentary entitled “For The Bible Tells Me So,” dealing with homosexuals who came from conservative Christi…

  Below are the links to the documentary entitled “For The Bible Tells Me So,” dealing with homosexuals who came from conservative Christian families. Your thoughts? Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

• What do you see?
  by Kitsmumma

  It was suggested to me by the wonderful Robert Knapman that it would be interesting to see wha…

  It was suggested to me by the wonderful Robert Knapman that it would be interesting to see what people thought my images were and how they are interpreted. / / So, I leave this one up to you. What do you see? What do you think? I would love to know. Even if you don’t see anything or think it’s rubbish, give it to me. / There is no right or wrong answer. / / Just a little fun.

• Can anyone tell me what this dream meant?
  by Alan Reading

  Ok last night I had a scary dream (cool! I know!) that has a recurring theme. It went like this: I am in the house that I was raised …

  Ok last night I had a scary dream (cool! I know!) that has a recurring theme. It went like this: I am in the house that I was raised in as a kid. It’s night time and I think that I’ve left the door downstairs open. This was always a BIG no no in my family. Ok so I go downstairs to lock it and while I’m in the garage I realize that someone is inside and hiding. That bit freaks me out even as I type this. So usually a dark shadowed figure (A bit like Mike Meyers out of “Halloween” I guess) comes after me and chases me everywhere in the house. I usually feel completely powerless during the chase bit. It’s one of those dreams where you wake up with your heart pounding through your jimmy jams. I think I’ve even managed to wake up shouting a few times with this dream. / Anyway last night the dream changed a little. This time instead of a dark figure it was a TIGER trying to kill me. I have no idea where it came from but…..... WEIRD!! / Come to think about it I just watched Halloween the other day for the first time. It might be related but I have had this recurring dream my whole life and I’ve only just recently seen “Halloween”(on widescreen). I hope one day the dream becomes lucid and I get to fight back. So what do you think? Any suggestions on what my subconscious is trying to tell me? p.s. get hold of Halloween widescreen – it’s AWESOME.

• Interpretations of Political Art
  by adgray

  *What makes an opinion political? / And when does an opinion stop being just a thought and start to be art? / Or is it only art if other p…

  What makes an opinion political? / And when does an opinion stop being just a thought and start to be art? / Or is it only art if other people like it? I have been Bubble Mailed by some not wishing to be known for supporting me and that is fine Sadly though they feel Redbubble is not the place for this kind of discussion I wish I knew the difference between voicing my opinion in words and others voicing them in art All the modern artists of around the 1920s were voicing their objections to the last war and the political destruction of Europe ….. and I am sure that there are still artists today voicing their opinion about what happens to the world and it’s occupants in their art …. and I’d include any artist who photographs any endangered animal .... which is a huge percentage of artists here My objections are not about “Lest go kill all the marsupials cos they’re there” / My argument is “Lets try to preserve what marsupials and bushland and rainforests we have left because pests were artificially introduced!” There is no way on earth foxes rabbits cats cane toads etc and all the weed pests could have Naturally Migrated to Australia! Man needed to be involved and so man is responsible for the destruction they have caused and thus the control of them! I am not against wild life I just wish we humans took responsibility for our actions and that includes the pets and pests we have introduced to This ISCOLATED ISLAND and other parts of the world. Both living [animal / vegetation / disease / philosophy] and man-made pollutants alike! OR: / Perhaps we are like a huge swarm of insects moving things around the world until it becomes just one big planet of sameness … and then we shall leave this planet and move to the next to do the same there … / OR / Perhaps we are the injected chemical “Fixing” the cells of a larger being … / OR / Perhaps we are the disease destroying the cells … the universe’s cancer Sorry …. Waaay too much Sci-fi in my life lol / Keep Happy! :o)

• Dreams or reality??
  by CateTownsend

  Last night I was thinking about my beautiful aunty and feeling sad about the way she died, and then I started thinking of different ways …

  Last night I was thinking about my beautiful aunty and feeling sad about the way she died, and then I started thinking of different ways to die… not that I want to die atm far from it. My aunty suffered a painfull, horrible death. Vommitting up blood and choking on it, it was so bad seeing her like that. Unfortunately I had no idea of how sick she was, I actually thought she was in remission, until my cousin called and said she was dying and I had better hurry if I wanted to say goodbye. This happened two years ago and the shock was enourmous to see her like that, it was my first experience of seeing someone die of cancer. So I thought I don’t want to die like that if I can help it. Then I got to thinking about going to sleep and not waking would probably be one of the better ways of leaving this world. Then I thought what if when we are dreaming and we die we become a part of the dream and then that becomes our new reality….. because I don’t know about you but my dreams can feel incredibly realistic. This thought led to all kinds of random thoughts and possibilities….. I guess it’s something that we don’t like to think about or dwell on but it would be great to hear other people’s thoughts on the matter. Even experiences such as near death or ghosts, angels miracles ?? whatever…. Oh yeah and these are just random thoughts by the way not meant to be offensive to anyone in anyway

• The Symbolism Behind "The Battle Between You and Me"
  by allisonberryart

  The painting “The Battle Between You And Me” refers to the tumultuous time I spent with my ex-husband in a rather difficult marriage. H…

  The painting “The Battle Between You And Me” refers to the tumultuous time I spent with my ex-husband in a rather difficult marriage. He is the creature on the left with the sword and shield looking like a warrior on the offensive. I am the creature on my back in a defenseless and prone position having the “life” sucked out of me by him. This is not a hopeless tale, however, as you can see the crown is still on my head (I am still the hero of my own myth) and also, the giant eye and bolt of lightening that symbolize my awakening into the consciousness of my situation and the realization that I must get out of the relationship and move on with my life. And, finally, in the top right of the painting is the mandala, the symbol of wholeness and the fruit or the flower of what evolves from the creative struggle for autonomy and independence… / / The Battle Between You And Me

• Questioning perception
  by brandiejenkins

  How do your own opinions, perceptions, and ideas come to be? It’s the classic nature versus nurture question, but in a different aspect. ...

  How do your own opinions, perceptions, and ideas come to be? It’s the classic nature versus nurture question, but in a different aspect. How far can you trace where an idea started? If we are raised in a specific environment that shapes who we are, are we not a product of society’s own version of what is considered pleasing and not pleasing? A culture. It’s impossible to know how we might have turned out or how differently our opinions would be if only one moment had occured in a different way. Had you not met that ‘one person’ on that ‘one day’ that happened to be your best friend for many years. Is it all based on timing, our entire perception of how we view life? Perception is nothing but a translation, but what factors play into How we perceive? One event can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways, depending on the person, emotional state, past experiences, all these play a role in just one instant, one breath. How would you interpret a pause in a conversation and how would your interpretation differ from that of someone just observing? The subtlety of it is almost astounding, makes a person question their own values, explore other cultures, walk in another’s shoes, and experience life from a different angle. Change their perception. I think I started out with a point, but it was lost somewhere in thought, the questions linger…

• Awesome Creative community Here!
  by Lam Tran

  Yesterday, I tried to upload my artworks from my wireless at home suck, So today I went to the University and it as a successful upload! ...

  Yesterday, I tried to upload my artworks from my wireless at home suck, So today I went to the University and it as a successful upload! Looking at this artist and their creation and imagination has enlighten me. So much talented and gifted people that bring great beauty to life. Keep it up artist, that world is watching you! P.S. Thanks everyone who post comments on my work! It is your interpretation and imagination that keeps my works alive*. Best wishes to all!