Hot Rod Biology

. . . which reminds me of another quote I used much earlier in this project . . . "Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead" [William Blake]. Which makes me think about what Denise said about being more irreverent.

I've been enjoying reading Marcus, and the Burdick text seemed to fit right into both his books, . . . I've been building this mental picture of pop culture as this cyclical system, spinning fast ñ out of control, but so fast that you can't escape the pull of the spin, so never actually OUT of control. If that makes sense? Graphic designers are inherently interested in the centre of this cycle ñ which is a vortex containing everything (because nothing escapes - due to the speed of the spinning). The transcendentally focused (the spiritualists, the artists, etc) are interested in what's outside the vortex, the void. But as designers we deal in the 'everyday' ñ this is why we come to be doing what we do, it is what we make and what we reference . . . and what we wish to add to. We add to this system/vortex by consuming and regurgitating . . . we need to think about what we're eating though, and make sure we chew it right (not too much, not too little) . . . and if we're lucky, when we spit it out or puke it up, there'll be a new idea there that'll make the world a more interesting place to be in . . . for a short while before it becomes an everday part of the vortex, spinning around and waiting to be chewed up and made new again. More often though designers [all of us] will just consume, digest, and defacate . . . it's just easier I guess? But it means we end up spinning around in all this crap . . . but that's ok too because we can eat each other and there'll be plenty to go around.

Ok that became a really bizarre little rant and perhaps sounds negative? It's not supposed to. It should sound like a B-grade horror ñ kind of tragic, kinda' funny, and kind of true. I like horror, and I like monsters, I don't think they're negative at all . . . they exist to show us things about ourselves. Monsters are quite often the 'things' that are regurgitated or spat out (especially the hybrid human/monsters, like werewolves etc) . . . they are the 'new' things. We call them monsters because they are not immediately recognisable.

Compared to Elvis, Art Chantry looks like a monster! That's him over Elvis' shoulder getting the idea that he could appropriate (consume) everyday printed ephemera in his work. But does the work look like a monster? I kinda' don't reckon . . .

[I had no idea this was going to come out when I sat down here to write this] . . .

So I guess maybe I've chewed too long? Perhaps if I chew faster and spit out earlier I'll get my monster . . . some inconcievable mess of a being who none-the-less will tell me something about the (image?) world and my place in it?

I think I'm losing it so I'll knock it on the head right n