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Author Archives: Michael
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The Grid
Posted at 12:48 pm , on June 2, 2020
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Meandering Wastes – First Reversion
Posted at 12:47 pm , on June 2, 2020
What follows is believed to be the first ever inscription of the recursive poem “Meandering Wastes” by the 21st Century writer, Michael Scott Hand. This fragment was recovered using the latest in digital archaeological equipment, wherein data can be extracted from the sedentary level of matter formed during that which we refer to as “Event X”.
beyond the far meandering wastes
an eager writer takes his place
scratching words with a fountain pen
when he ends each line he starts againCombining this fragment with the only other known version of this poem (the so-called sixth recursion), we hope to be able to reconstruct a final “seventh recursion” representative of the author’s original intent.
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And You’ll See Me
Posted at 11:46 am , on June 1, 2020
Hearts are breaking
Pain that’s stored
Now enraged and flaming: soars
Skies grow dark
Spirits darker
The sound of fury
Turns to laughter
The sound of laughter
Turns to screams
Those screams now wake you
From your dreams
And skies lit up
Reveal the schemes
Police line streets
Their visors gleam
Smoke and water
Shattered glass
Remnants of society cast
Aside
Aside
The gulf grows wide
Soon you’ll need to pick a side
A side
Inside
Inside
You know
Reflected by the fires glow
That spark of revolution seems
So far away and yet it gleams
Like visors worn by armed police
In the eyes of protesters and of thieves
The light of revolution speaks
The light of revolution shows
In the streets the fires grow -
Friday
Posted at 10:40 am , on May 22, 2020
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Looking Up
Posted at 8:57 am , on May 13, 2020
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Bad Painting of a Desert
Posted at 9:32 am , on May 6, 2020
Sometimes I think it’s important to share a bad painting. It doesn’t have to be a painting, of course, it can be a poem or a story or whatever. Sometimes it’s good to soften the focus around what we consider to be “good” in order to let “okay” into the frame, or “interesting” or, as is the case with this painting of a desert–even “bad”.
There are several reasons I think this important: the first being that a simple scale of good and bad when applied to artistic endeavours is generally unhelpful. There are, of course, matters of technical aptitude that can be applied to art (in any form) and yet even these rules break down as we switch through mediums and styles, reminding us that art is not a set of rules that cleanly differentiates between what is good and what is bad.
I might add that art is not “the opposite” of such rules, but rather: it exists distinctly apart from them: art cannot be bound by any system of rules or standards, it is an ever-changing living communion between the artist and the world; it is nature and nurture and it is neither of those things. It is the breathless voice of the wind.
Another reason that I feel like it’s important to share “bad” art: although, as artists, we may claim to exist beyond these rules and suppositions mentioned above, we are undoubtedly cowed by them. It is easy to feel obligated to exist within these arbitrary scales and it is no secret that the artist is the harshest (and often cruellest) judge of their own work. However, the simple fact is this, and it’s such an important fact that I’m putting it in a quote block:
You can never trust an artists’ own opinion of their work: this includes your own.
Thirdly, distinct and yet related to the points I have already made–we live in such a society where the much of what we see has been highly calibrated to appear “perfect”.
What we don’t see is that even when something appears perfect it is actually a composite: built from the effort of years, built from practice, built from dozens of rough drafts. For every “perfect” painting perhaps ten bad ones must precede it. For every perfect sentence the same. And still, perfection is such a vacuous concept; if Leonardo DaVinci were alive today would he claim that the Mona Lisa is perfect? Personally I think he’d want to burn the thing, or have another go at painting it. Because that’s what artists do.
By sharing images of the process (which many people do online), or even completed “bad” paintings like my desert, we open ourselves up to learning and we can help others learn. Instead of merely showing the best of myself I also seek to show the imperfections and in doing so, I become more true to myself; I become more real.
My “Bad Painting of a Desert” is a practice piece, it is me messing around with (digital) brushes while the TV is on in the background, it is me studying images of sand dunes and of clouds and of colours and of trying to replicate what I see (or perhaps, even more importantly, what I feel). I consider it a “failed painting” which is to say that I had no intention of ever posting it, but then for the reasons above, I changed my mind.
Maybe, one day, I’ll create “A Mediocre Painting of a Desert”, maybe I won’t. In essence it’s unimportant, because from the very moment I hit publish this work ceases to become a “failed painting” and becomes something else, it becomes exactly what it is and what it always was: it becomes “Bad Painting of a Desert”.
It is art.
And it is not the only “failed painting” I have shared so far. For others, check out Egypt and Shovel; both of which see me experimenting with entirely new mediums. Objectively, neither of them are good paintings and yet, by virtue of their very existence, they are art.
So? Don’t be afraid to make bad art and if you’re brave enough: share it. Because the world needs it. Other artists need it and maybe… you need it too.
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Lightning
Posted at 8:23 am , on May 5, 2020
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