Skip to main content

{instinct}

What are we? A collection of codes, of genes, of microscopic spots? A pulsing bundle of wires and internal levers, wandering about the landscape in open-mouthed wonder, gaping at everything, waiting for the right signal to tell us what to do? Are we ever anything more than instinct?

* * * * *

These fellows are from the SS Division Totenkopf, and so are from a path of being very hard indeed (by late 1943 casualties were such that virtually none of the original cadre were left, as evidenced by the young faces here), but when overrun by Allied forces in Normandy it was the instinct for self-preservation which won out, and they duly puddled into that broken mass called surrender.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, the Canadian middle-class instinct to freeze in the headlights of anything that even feels controversial, to avoid, at all costs, offending anyone, anywhere, no matter what their beliefs, while at the same time making absolutely no effort to have an informed opinion about anything, continues unabated. And then we wonder why our politicians are so awful, like so many robots at Chuck E Cheese.

* * * * *

Now who wants cookies?
Labels:

Comments

  1. Kathy1:59 pm

    Hey, you know I'm usually 2 weeks behind, so I'm doing better this time, right ; )? I think what happened is that, since I'm in Europe, I posted in the middle of Thursday night U.S. time and then the word changed! Thanks for your kind comments though. I always enjoy what you bring to the table.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Shaz2:20 pm

    I want cookies! Me! Me! APPEASE MY INNER KINDERGÄRTNER AND COOKIE ME!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Madonna Davidoff9:28 am

    Amazing

    ReplyDelete
  4. Anonymous9:34 am

    Well, it's good you follow your instinct and tell it as you see it! I am attracted to the somewhat stoic expression on the figures face in your painting... and just love the way she seems to moving upward against the brushstrokes. Very cool!

    I'd like a peanut butter cookie, please.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Regina9:57 am

    Obviously, you are unafraid to explore your creative instincts! Excellent blog.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m
2 comments
Read more

glamour, by extension

C is friends with the fashion stylist Rebekah Roy (left in both pics above) ... one of those people who personify calm and smiling success. On her blog she presents glamour in this very sincere, straightforward way ... whether she's taking pictures of people on the street , talking about stain removers , her favourite videos , or attending some glittering party . One minute she's ruminating on hair extensions, and in the next she reveals how she's been featured on the Vogue UK site. A real disarmer and charmer (and this without meeting her yet, although I feel like I know her because we both did our time in Winnipeg). * * * * * Coming home from Russia, we did many bad things. ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. In my own life, the glamour is wholly imagined. * * * * * witches, smoke ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. My second go at this one, and for some reason I'm painting a lot of smoke lately (note to self: tell C that I want to be cremated). *
7 comments
Read more

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and
44 comments
Read more