Victorian Red Brick School: Extracts from the Dream Journal

This particular dream had me walking down a street on which I discovered a Victorian red brick school in a rather dilapidated state. It was a large school occupying both sides of the road and connected by means of an enclosed bridge (or walkway) from one side of the building to the other. Most of the school was off limits but I discovered that the main entrance part (a tower structure) had been converted into a community resource center and was bright and modern on the interior. They offered free workspace and offices in which a person might write, paint, study or do other creative work. These offices were located further up the tower. As I explained this to my wife outside she decided to look in and attempted to sell them some gold jewelry, and the image of a small ingot of gold came to my mind. They refused to deal with her, explaining that gold had no value to them and they had enough of it. She, (my wife) became extremely angry stormed out and started spitting in fury. Meanwhile I went back and asked how much it would cost to rent an office for writing and drawing purposes, but the woman who I was talking to did not understand. She spoke a different language.  Another woman sat there translated (after I had tried speaking Spanish… but I could not remember the Spanish word for room). It was at this point that I woke up.

Key Elements of the Dream:

An old school, bridge, offices, spitting, gold (jewelry and an ingot), an argument (over value), language, misunderstanding and translation.

Seeing a school from the outside indicates a change in fortune albeit transitory. A dream of a bridge in disrepair is a sign not to make any substantial changes for the time being. The vision of an office in a dream oddly refers to a change in personal or emotional affairs and to envisage oneself actually occupying your own office indicate a change in the love-life (not necessarily a change in a lover but merely a change which can be good, bad or indifferent depending upon other elements of the dream). To witness an argument or fight in a dream is a warning against wasting time and money in idle pursuits. Spitting implies a break with a friend or associate and advises the dreamer to be more diplomatic in advancing opinions. Gold jewelry indicates a prospect of steady financial gain, and an ingot of gold bear the message ‘easy come, easy go.’ I have grouped foreign language, misunderstanding and translation into one: a dream involving a foreign language is that there is a message from the unconscious that you do not yet (or are not yet) capable of understanding. There may be a confrontation with an unfamiliar problem in the waking life to which you do not know how to approach or resolve.

Interpretation:

I can tend toward living in the past, at least relying on traditional modes of leading my life. I believe this dream is telling me that whilst this is okay upto a point, if I want to progress and achieve personal goals then I need to both look inward and restore or amend my views to be current with a modern perspective; one cannot live wholly in the past to be a complete person in the present. In order to rise to greater heights I need to work on better communication and expression. This is a sort of ‘kick in the pants dream’ which is telling me to sort myself out, stop wasting time on frivolous projects and become more aimed and concentrated in efforts that will bring longer lasting rewards. - Dream Journal. - July 27^th 2012.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright: David John Drew 2013.

Diamond Dog of Clairvaux

“Qui m’aime aime mon chien.” – St. Bernard of Clairvaux.

The relatively quiet north-west suburb of Asnieres-sur-Seine, 5 miles from the centre of Paris has a few rare claims. Not only the home to Luis Vuitton and L’Oreal cosmetics, but the first verifiable ‘Cimetière des Chiens’ or pet cemetery created in 1899. This is the last resting place for a variety of creatures once beloved, including horses, dogs, cats, fish, monkey’s and lions. This exotic cornucopia of animal spirits is equally matched by the ornate ‘art-nouveau’ entrance gate, designed by the famous architect Eugene Petit. Here you may find the grave of the Hollywood star Rin Tin Tin, and the pet lion of stage actress Marguerite Durand amongst others. Whilst only the extremely wealthy may be able to purchase a plot for their pet, the site became a historical place of interest in 1987.

We do love our pets and cherish fond memories after their demise. They all seem to add a dimension to our lives that would not otherwise exist. There even seems, in those sparkling eyes contrary to the opinion of some ministers of theology, a spirit comparable to our own which justifies a decent resting place. Thus, the recent and despicable grave robbery which took place at the aforementioned cemetery last week, in which the diamond collar of Tipsy the black poodle was unearthed and stolen by thieves in the dark night. The collar is estimated to be worth at least $11,000. The anonymous American owners of the poodle must be horrified at the gross disrespect displayed by this particularly grim crime. There appears to be no end in the efforts exerted by the criminal mind to appropriate the fortunes of others.

We all hope these nefarious characters are apprehended and dealt with. I can think of no better way of ending this post with the prayerful words of Albert Schweitzer, for I firmly believe that we must extend our compassion to all living creatures, and respect to the deceased:

“Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends the animals, especially for animals who are suffering; for animals that are overworked, underfed and cruelly treated; for all wistful creatures in captivity that beat their wings against bars; for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry; for all that must be put death. We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity, and for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words. Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals, and so to share the blessings of the merciful, Amen.”

All Rights Reserved / Copyright David John Drew 2013.

Aesthetic Blood Clot

“The… monstrous ambiguity of the modernist artist’s situation…” – Robert Motherwell.

With a broad view of the state of modern art it isn’t incredibly difficult to understand what Robert Motherwell was commenting upon. It is infinitely more hazardous to guess at what particular point in recent history the artist tumbled off the track of producing clearly comprehensible works, and drifted into the dark nether regions of obscure references. It seems that the mind of a contemporary artist is more akin to the custodian of a facility for the criminally insane, than one involved in creative dialogue. Is the modern British art scene the fruit of a conspiracy initiated by Charles Saatchi with advice from Maurice? I speak with particular reference to the likes of Marc Quinn, Tracey Emin, the Chapman Brothers and uber-obnoxious Damien Hirst. Can assemblages by this crew be held up to the shining light of day and pronounced ‘great’ with the addition of an enormous price tag?

Thus we question and seek some clarification. Of course, aesthetics are not the easiest branch of philosophy to discuss, but let us attempt to shovel through some of the murky sentimentality and see if we can discover a possible glint of genius. In the classical sense aesthetics deals with concepts of beauty in art. When judging art we assess it by means of form and shape, colour, size and dimension, we compare it to others like it. Lines of communication are established between the ‘object’ and its observer which bring a greater sense of understanding, even intellectual growth. The styles and subject matter of pre-modern art (that created prior to about 1860) are all responsive to this form of enquiry. This relatively mundane and scientific manner of interpretation was blown to smithereens by a young French artist in New York, in the summer of 1917. Marcel Duchamp exhibited a porcelain ‘urinal’ as a work of art at the Society of Independent Artist, and he called it ‘Fountain.’ Many considered it both blasphemous and indecent. It smashed all rational means of understanding, and thus shattered, we arrive today in the vehicle called contemporary art.

The modernist has relinquished conforming to good taste. I propose that art nowadays is a fragmentary mosaic that reflects the world in its entirety. Thus in our immediate global environment saturated by mass media communications, images and information, in which the apocalyptic lies side by side with absurdity and fantasy, we find an artist swallowing the whole then regurgitating it piecemeal. For some artists like ‘Banksi’ who specializes in graffiti, art has become a sort of visual terrorism that assaults our preconceptions on the nearest brick wall. Yet it is all fascinating, a profound critique of humanity: less about aesthetics and more genetics. This art questions values and forces us to examine ourselves, our existence, meaning and purpose in a quest to identify true values. It can be a bloody messy agenda, like that morning when Charles Saatchi strolled into his gallery to find the cleaning lady had unplugged the refrigerator which contained the head sculpture by Marc Quinn: cryogenically frozen and cast from eight pints of his blood. The situation is actually far better today than Robert Motherwell imagined for himself and his colleagues.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright David John Drew 2012.

Post Mortem Philosophy

“Where am I, or what? From what causes do I derive my existence, and to what condition shall I return? ... I am confounded with all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every member and faculty." – David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, 1793.

Hume was a Scottish philosopher, historian, economist, and essayist known especially for his philosophical empiricism and skepticism. He was one of the most important figures in the history of Western philosophy and the Scottish Enlightenment. Hume wrote a great deal on religion. The question of what were Hume's personal views on religion is a difficult one. The Church of Scotland seriously considered bringing charges of infidelity against him. Many sources label him as an agnostic, others considered him a heretic. James Boswell saw Hume a few weeks before his death (which was from some form of abdominal cancer). Hume told him he sincerely believed it a "most unreasonable fancy" that there might be life after death.

The death of David Hume was similar to (Thomas) Paine's, contrary to popular belief. Robert Haldane had a neighbor, Mr. Abercromby of Lullibody, who, in the autumn, of 1776, was travelling in a stage-coach to Haddington. One of the topics of conversation was the recent death of David Hume. Mr. Abercromby's son-in-law, Colonel Edmonstone of Newton, had been one of Hume's intimate friends, and had said that Hume had died in an atmosphere of buoyant cheerfulness. Alexander Haldane writes:

"Whilst the conversation was running on in this strain, a respectable-looking female dressed in black, who made a fourth in the coach, begged permission to offer a remark. "Gentlemen," she said, "I attended Mr. Hume on his deathbed, but I can assure you I hope never again to attend the death-bed of a philosopher." They then cross-examined her as to her meaning, and she told them, that when his friends were with him, Mr. Hume was cheerful even to frivolity, but that when alone he was often overwhelmed with unutterable gloom, and had, in his hours of depression, declared that he had been in search of light all his life, but was now in greater darkness than ever. The anecdote has been told by those who probably had it from some of the other travellers. Mr. Haldane's version is substantially the same, and Mrs. Joass often repeated the circumstances as related by her venerable father." - Alexander Haldane, Memoirs of the Lives of Robert Haldane of Airthrey, and of His Brother, James Alexander Haldane (London: Hamilton, Adams, and Co., 1852), p. 581.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright David John Drew 2013.

The Fast Car of the New Mexican Art World

In our ‘Salon des Artes’ at Fitzsimons this past week the subject for conversation turned to R. C. Gorman. Not too infrequently the subject strays to frivolous banter of outrageous dimensions, and Gorman being the inveterate aficionado of the eccentric provided the group with huge deposit of information for speculation and exhortations of intriguing insight. I am not sure whether my trip to Gorman’s Navajo Gallery in Taos (on Ledoux Street) this summer helped me at all to understand his art. I find his paintings colorful but ultimately banal; merely repetition on the single theme of a generic Native American woman (or maybe a few women) wrapped in a colorful blanket seated beside a pot in a fluorescent landscape. I understand that experts in the field (actually the New York Times) awarded him the title the ‘Pablo Picasso’ of the American-Indian art world, and his style of painting is called ‘abstract realism.’ I have done my best in life to avoid this sort of art, which is something of an incredible feat since one cannot help but collide with it in poster or postcard form in any souvenir shop anywhere in the world. Excessive exposure to Gorman art leads to a ‘lost in the landscape’ syndrome, with the predominant symptom of staring into space in a sort of drunken stupor.

The most interesting facets of Gorman’s life, those which captured the imagination of the Fitzsimons Art Group were his automobile history. Gorman only got his driving license at the age of 41. Could he drive before this time but illegally? Did he not drive but walk everywhere? Unanswered speculation. Gorman moved rapidly in motorized transport from the acquisition of an old jalopy from his secretary in the early 1970’s to a ‘van’ used for hauling his abstract realist paintings of mysterious Indian women around. As his fame and fortune gained momentum he advanced to the Cadillac. He couldn’t drive too well, he completely grazed the entire side of his first Cadillac… and he missed a turn on Ski Valley Road in Taos and drove into the river. The second most interesting aspect of Gorman’s life was his time in the navy. He appears to have spent a great deal of time sketching enhanced portraits of his fellow sailors girlfriends for exorbitant fees. A natural businessman even at this early stage. Later on he bought a Mercedes, became incredibly famous, dined at the Whitehouse, received guests such as Jackie Onassis and kept a strange menagerie of pets; a pig, iguana and a skunk. The President and Mrs. Jimmy Carter visited Gorman in Taos and he was so delighted that he gave them a copy of his bestselling book ‘Nudes and Foods.’ Gorman was a fascinating personality, a little low on creativity but bursting with energy.

R. C. Gorman was the intensive object of imitation by an infamous forger lady. This is merely suggested rather than confirmed. Not only did a particular woman, for some completely obscure reason choose to reproduce Gorman drawings and sell them for virtually nothing, but also practiced medicine without a license, and persisted her residency in the U.S. without any form of official permit. she is a fascinating study in her own right, but remains anonymous. She is described as ‘a new media artist who spends her time trying to map the terrain where deception, actuality, and enactment come into conflict with social norms and the evolving aesthetic tension grid called art.’ This seems like an apt way to describe many modern artists who have in fact lost the roadmap to life and dazzled by their gold encrusted Gucci sunglasses have seemingly driven off the road and are rapidly heading for the river at the bottom of the canyon. R. C. Gorman remains one of the most extravagant personalities in the art world. The charges of him being a pedophile may never be substantiated.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright: David John Drew 2013.

I would have obsession blinker us to the wider world no longer

'Ripper Street' a new detective series from BBC America may present the perfect antidote to a seemingly sterile cinematic modernity. We are transported back to Whitechapel, London 1889, barely six months after the gruesome slashings of the notorious Jack the Ripper. Plunged amidst the squalor of the Victorian metropolis we follow the investigations of Detective Edmund Reid and Sergeant Bennett Drake through the intricate and seedy maze of the 'underworld.' The first series broadly covers their attempts to secure the identity of the 'Ripper' murders, whilst each episode introduces individual cases. Most notable is the rich and variegated depth of the scenes and streets, lush cockney'd banter of real and believable characters and of course the exquisite costumes. It may be apt to remark that the fabric of such dramatizations invariably leaks into the current and commonplace, and we should not be altogether surprised to encounter reproductions of costume and slang on our street-corners. Already, as I write there are those who are busying themselves with lists of the exotic Victorian verbage with which to startle and amaze otherwise innocent aunts over tea and scones, whilst there are many phrases we still currently use such as lush, flashy and fly, the others seem doomed to re-enter the vernacular: 

Cracksman (a burglar, safe-cracker), Crusher (a policeman), Lurk (a place of concealment), Molly House (a homosexual, specifically transvestite, a brothel), Nipper (a young child), Pig (a copper or bobby - a policeman), Rookery (a slum or ghetto), Scratch (a line drawn in the ground where boxers stand at the beginning of a round), Snide (counterfeit money), Thomas (a prostitute's client), Toff (a well dressed or upper class person), Toffer (a high class prostitute), bacca-pipes (a tightly curled moustache or whiskers), crab-shells (shoes), fawny dropping (a deceptive crime involving the sale of a cheap ring), lavender (to be hidden from the police, to be pawned, put away or simply dead), luggers (ear-rings), to take the 'Huntley' (to take the cake or biscuit - to take full advantage of a situation), a Maltooler (a pickpocket operating on an omnibus), Muck Snipe (a down and out, a bum), Out of Twig (in disguise), Puckering (speaking in an incomprehensible manner).

All in all we are presented with a unique insight into an age of liberal repression, sexual deviancy, prostitution, drugs and substance abuse, notorious criminal activities, anarchy... in fact, a long and evocative glimpse into the reverse side of the glorious British Empire. It is such an aspect of society that we would wholeheartedly attempt to turn away from, to blindly deny exists even today in our own modern world. We want hygiene and sanitation and prayers before a peaceful night's sleep... but eventually the horror of the bad-side seeps through and corruption surges to submerge our idealism in foul stench of a cracked and decaying sewer pipe that we have attempted to ignore and fail to repair.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright David John Drew 2013

The Art of Blasphemy

Today I was assaulted with a visibly horrendous piece of artwork posing as political and religious criticism. Usually, under such dire circumstances one is apt to sprint recklessly for one's life in the opposite direction of the immediate threat, or alternatively deliver a well aimed blow to the rascals forehead (such as one has learnt in studies of the oriental martial arts, and E. W. Barton Wright is an incredibly good resource for such attacks). But I digress overtly with apologies. The rascal had the audacity to elicit some sort of opinion from me on the aforementioned conception. Only with some miraculous acuity was I able to discern the deeper flow of my thoughts and utter a response. The artist was attempting rather crudely, to make some point in the way of blasphemy and the trial of Oscar Wilde came to the fore of my mind, and also perhaps that quintessential aesthetic appraisal in the 'Picture of Dorian Grey' - to the effect; "Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope..."

And so, getting straight to the point of the matter, what I found most objectionable about this quasi-artist and his 'assemblage' was the plain fact that it (and others too) were ugly. They lacked the necessary depth of thought, analysis and sever cutting edge that characterizes 'excellent' criticism. Yes, the work itself bore more than a faint resemblance to the crude abortion of an ill-conceived and flatulent thought, that might have been better served putting at once to the naked flame. At this point I began to rise to the challenge of this mediocre dabbler, and I prepared to thrust the blade into his barely palpitating heart, though he was visibly staggering at my previous comment. The irresponsible juxtaposition of hackneyed signage and iconography (for this thing was a 'collage') clouded any attempt to convey a clear and direct communication... a bold disregard for composition and color... well, I believe this chap was dumbstruck and had in the end to admit that his work, despite pleas for brotherly love in the face of religious dictatorial authority, that his work was in fact a pile of rubbish.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright: David John Drew 2013.