In much of my research as an Art History major, a key part in analyzing a work of art is to look at where the art was produced and what the artist was exposed to. In the 21st century we see an explosion of media where everyone-respectively- is exposed to everything thanks to the internet. An artist can receive inspiration from any artist past and present within the limits of popularity. Rare combinations such as an Egon Schiele with a Rubins or a Duerer may be found. These kinds of combinations create certain difficulties when classifying what qualities define post-Internet art. Perhaps this variety in art is what will classify this era. Contemporary artists utliize the internet to see different types of art, all kinds of land forms, and other structures otherwise denied them. Perhaps in the future, artists will resort back to nature and the world around them instead of searching for tools beyond their immediate reach. Art, like history, repeats itself.
Observations of the world are formulated into puzzle pieces. And those puzzle pieces combine to create a whole that may seem original. So, the originality of any work of art is simply a copy of different things, but seen in an entirely alternate way from predecessors. Though these influences may not be so obvious as a work by Raphael, they are copies all the same. The Internet is now a primary device in creating puzzle pieces to be put together.
It seems to me that the mentality of the young adults of our age search for something greater then what is around them. The Internet acts as a portal into other territories that will create hybrids of everything from African tribal art to Tibetan sand drawings. Why is it that this generation believes, unconsciously or consciously, that what is far away is greater than what is in front of them? I suppose it could be the appeal of the unknown and the Internet as a tool for exploration in a world where all of the white spots of the map are allegedly filled. Art too takes part in this exploration.
In the future, when all of our eyes are stuck to screens, someone will look up and begin to draw what is around them. Perhaps they will begin to deny the foreign and settle with the familiar and find it to be beautiful. Though these are general accusations, I do believe that everyone to some extent searches for the unknown. If they didn’t, there would be no desire to stick with the familiar.
What i’ve said may be false, and they may apply to someone. They are just thoughts. Seeing as how I am writing this for the Internet and for the people on the Internet, shows that I am seeking for viewership outside of my own head and immediate contacts. In the hopes that something will come of it whether that something gets back to me or not.
Here are some great Mulerisms and scullyisms I found.I can’t give propper credit because the site I got them from is now off-line.
I apologize for the purple font. Another side effect from the stupid website.
Mulder: *climbing a tree* Scully, does this demonstration of boyish ability turn you on?
Scully: Mulder, you couldn’t go two minutes without a cell phone without lapsing into catatonic scychsophernia.
Scully: Begin autopsy on white male, age sixty, who is arguably having a worse time in Texas than I am - although not by much…
Mulder: Who’s the black private dick who’s the sex machine with all the chicks? SHAFT! Can you dig it? They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother - shut yo mouth!
Mulder: You’re afraid to tell the truth! Afraid you’ll look like an idiot? Like me?
Mulder: You don’t beleive in vampires. And I respect that.
Scully: I haven’t eaten since six o clock the morningand all that was was half of a cream cheese bagel. And it wasn’t even real cream cheese, it was lite cream cheese.
Mulder: Thats exactly… essentially how it happened. Except for the part about the buck teeth.
Mulder: *sees scully while playing basketball* Hey homegirl! Word up!
Scully: Mulder, you just cheated.
Mulder: Scully! I got game!
Scully: Yeah, you got so much game that I’m starting to wonder if you have any work left in you.
Mulder: I’m ready to j-o-b. Just not on some backround checking jag off shoe shine tip.
Mulder: Here’s a tip. Aluminum foil makes a lovely hat and keeps the government’s ming control rays out.
Mulder: Hey, Scully, maybe if we get really lucky next time they’ll let us clean toilet bowls.
Mulder: Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful!
Scully: The last time you were that engrossed it turned out you were reading the adult video news.
Scully: And if your sister is your aunt and your mother marries your uncle, you’d be your own grandpa.
Mulder: Thats why they put the “eye” in FBI.
Mulder: Nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted!
Mulder: So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?
Mulder: You saved the word, Scully!
Scully: Yeah, you’re right. I did.
Mulder: I love you…
Scully: Oh brother…
Scully: I’d kiss you right now if you weren’t so damn ugly.
Mulder: Scully, would you think less of me as a man if I told you I was kind of excited right now?
Mulder: If there’s an iced tea in that bag, it must be love.
Scully: Must be fate, Mulder. Root beer.
Mulder: I think it’s remotely plausible that someone might think you’re hot.
Detective White: Are you drunk?
Mulder: Yes! Which…is f-funny because normally I-I-I d-don’t d-drink…
Mulder: Should we be picking out china patterns or what?
Frohike: What kind of drugs is he on?
Langly: I want some!
Mulder: You didn’t rent a convertible, did you?
Scully: Yeah, why?
Mulder: Are you aware of the statistics of decapitation?
Mulder: ICH BIN EIN AUSLANDER ‘I am an outsider’…Did you know that when Kennedy told the Germans “ICH BIN EIN BERLINER , he was actually saying ‘I am a cocktail sausage’?
Scully: Is there anything in occult literature about an object that can talk and move? Like, a doll for instance?
Mulder: Like Chuckie?
Scully: Kinda like that, yeah.
Mulder: Yeah…*insert a mulder speech here*…You didn’t find a talking doll did you?
Scully: No, of course not…
Mulder: Because if you did, i would suggest checking the back for some sort of plastic ring with a strong on it…
Mulder: Do you believe in the afterlife?
Scully: I’d settle for a life in this one…
Mulder: The best way to save heat is to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who’s already naked.
Scully: Maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you’ll get lucky
Some people have waaaay too much angst.
Today I read about: Mary Frith (Moll Cutpurse), Richard Feynman, Genghis Khan, Robert E. Peary, and Mary Kingsley.
Mary Frith (1584-1659) is a woman who lived in London and eventually became the leader of the Thames underworld. There seemed to be nothing about her that suggested Old English decorum. She dressed, talked, and lived as a man, but continually referred to herself as a woman. Basically, going by the name Moll Cutpurse, she was England’s most famous cross-dresser before Eddie Izzard. She would hang out in streets with a pipe between her teeth playing the lyre and singing songs or telling stories. She was BIIIG into Bear Gardens, so much that she raised her own Mastiffs for fighting and took care of them as if they were her children. Apparently she requested to be buried with her nose in the coffin saying, “as I have in my Life been preposterous, so I may be in my Death.”
Richard Feynman(1918-1988) is one of those bad-at-school-genius types. Feynman to Physics is like Raphael to Italian Renaissance. He took the work of others and simplified it to an understandable level of grace. He achieved perfect scores in Math and Science for the Princeton entrance exam (never before done then or since) and he was involved with the Manhattan Project, but was bored to death so he left. He became a teacher and absolutely loved it, and also taught himself the bongos and to read Mayan hieroglyphics. He was the type to never do anything that would bore him. His last words were, “I’d hate to die twice. It’s so boring.”
Genghis Khan (about 1162-1227) is a well known figure, but what I read about him today focused on the details of his early life and how he was able to create the Mongolian Empire. It went into detail about Mongol military tactics and their laws concerning captives and pillaging.
Robert E. Peary or “the man who claimed he found the north pole” (1856-1920) was a Freudian headcase. Being deeply… deeply… attached to his mother and having no father, his ventures seemed to lead back to proving something to a father (the world) he never had. He was so close to his mother, that she even went on his HONEYMOON. Whaaaat? Anyway, he spent majority of his time in Greenland and even took to a fourteen year old Inuit who had two sons by him. He abandoned them. He never bothered to learn the language or any of the cultural customs. By the time his final expedition rolled around, only 5 people made it the length of the journey he was willing to go. As his travel log progresses, the page that should have marked the day he arrived at the North Pole was empty… or simply very vague. He later added a little leaf to assert the validity of his travels. Riiight. The guy died with only two toes (the rest were frost-bitten off).
Mary Kingsley (1862-1900) is a Victorian explorer who never acclimated her dress for the environment. She was self-taught and driven to explore western Africa. And she did. PLUS she never changed out of her black silk Victorian dress. There are stories of her bashing in a crocodile with a paddle as it jumped on her canoe, whacking a frying pan over the head of a leopard, and having a surprisingly open mind to tribal polygamy and cannibalism (whether she participated is unknown). But she kept a positive eye to every encounter she had with every tribe. She died alone of Typhoid.
Only Tumblr will make me feel guilty for not being on it every day.
I feel like Tumblr was an outlet for me while school was going on.
Finals. That time of the year when every college student starts to think about
everything in life. Not just school. Everything.
School, friends, future, relationships, money, everything.
Why do Finals seem to bring out the PMS in everyone?
Existential crisis 1.0, 2.0, 3.0… every day is a new developed model of the next
Triggering a chemical in the brain that pulsates into a raging bile duct.
You start to wonder, “What’s the point?”
WHY do we get up every day and go to school?
WHAT is the point?
WHEN will this all pay off?
HOW will I get there?
WHO will I be?
WHERE will I be?
Who, Where, What, Why, and How. The 5 words that have been pre-fabricated to run the course of our lives.
It’s good to get an education, but WHY. HOW will it incorporate into my life? WHAT will I do with it? WHO will benefit? WHERE will it get me? WHEN will catharsis decide to show up?
“We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world.”
What is the greater good?