Infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving, it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe.

Indeed. Brisbane Street, Hobart. October 2011.

Stencilled graffiti: acceptable or cop out?

For the record, I like the good ones, but decreasingly so if they become too ubiquitous. Simpler is better.

While I'm not anti-politically-charged graffiti in any way, I am anti-stupidity and often the lines are blurred. I'm more a subtle/ whimsy kind of fellow...

Also, although this post has very little to do with FISH, I suspect that Theme Thursday might be back!

Comments

Mrsupole said…

Hi Kris,

I guess one could always say that Holmes was always fishing for the answers.

I too am not sure if that would be considered acceptable or not, but it is cool.

A teenager I know got mad at her parents and did graffiti on her bedroom wall. It actually was very beautiful and was a shame it had to be painted over. Sometimes out of anger can come such beauty. But it would have been better if she had used a canvas and it had been saved.

I do hope TT is back and I will do my best to keep it going. Thanks for coming back.

God bless.

13 October 2011 at 19:58

Brian Miller said…

nice to see you again kris...hope that mrsu does get TT back and as lively as it once was...

i am rather fond of well done graffiti simpler is better....

14 October 2011 at 22:53

Kris McCracken said…

Mrsupole, the prepost makes it a bit easier for us down under!

Brian, let's see what we can do.

15 October 2011 at 17:52

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

This will hurt me...

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