Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!



Words fail me.


Temple of Light
Temple of Light

Under a full moon the Chief Economist, High Priest of the Cult of Mathiness, crosses the obsidian abyssal waters of the flooded caldera of Mount Data to the Temple of Light to consult the Gods of Money and read the measurements from the great golden armillary sphere, literally made of money; bringing an offering — a poor human baby.

Busby Berkeley meets Albert Speer, Nuremberg meets Vegas on a sound stage in Hollywood.

Weird that such a cold intellectual conceit came fully formed and just needed to be executed.
Just! Ha!
Ambition is a terrible thing and biting off more than you can chew can choke you.
Perhaps a bit over the top … so unlike me … why be subtle and nuanced … when you can just beat them over the head? … and stretching my skills beyond breaking point but … it seems to hold together and does reflect the pomposity and self-importance of the financial world’s “Masters of the Universe”, not to mention the misanthropic, libertarian homunculi in Downing Street.

Fetishising models means that the only ideas that can gain traction are those that can be modelled and an elegant model that bears no empirical, indexical relationship to the real world or simply ignores the fact that it refers to real living breathing people just like the ones we know and love is worse than useless: it is a weapon. Dominic.

Ancient Chinese astronomers of the Zhou dynasty were mathematical virtuosos and their measurements were amazingly accurate but as there is no causal connection between the way the arrangements of planets and stars look from earth and what happens here on earth, save for a supernova, it won’t help your marriage, win your war or guarantee a bumper harvest.

In 2003 I read Brian Greene’s Elegant Universe trying to learn about about quantum physics and string theory — I understood almost every word, and looked up the ones I didn’t.
I read it from cover to cover hiding from the celestial fire in Canicule Paris but I didn’t understand string theory — I didn’t know what the words meant, I didn’t understand how they related to the real world. I can still repeat some of the phrases but they don’t make sense.
To paraphrase Wanda: Apes do read philosophy, they just don’t understand it!

We use metaphors and models to help get a grip on complex ideas, so that we can grasp them in our three dimensions, turn them, animate them, look at them from the other side. We mustn’t mistake them for the real thing.

This morning I read about a guy called Toby Hall, a member of Glastonbury Town Council’s 5G Advisory Committee. He’s been recommending a device sold by BioShield Distribution for £340 to protect their parishoners from dangerous radiation from electromagnetic fields. But for all their talk of “relativistic time dilation and biological quantum entanglement at the DNA level”, the £5 usb stick does absolutely nothing.
At least he is sleeping better and having more dreams, feels a ‘calmer’ feel to the home and still thinks the company might be able to develop a system to offer protection to the whole town of Glastonbury.
Good grief. We have to find and ask useful questions, to get meaningful answers which will help us better understand the world.

To return to one misanthropic, libertarian homunculus in particular:
it’s not about the details of what he did — it’s the fact that he did it;
it’s not about the inconsistencies in his story — it’s that he thought he had a right to tell it when others could not;
it’s not about the judgement he used in realtion to the imperatives he faced, it’s about his judgement of the nature of his position, that he thought he had a right to use judgement at all in this case.
You can argue endlessly about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin until you face up to the fact that none can … full stop.

If Cummings can’t see that he has broken the contract of trust and that means even more people will die unnecessarily when they feel free to ignore the guidelines, use their own judgement. And now rules which were brought in to protect us, while systems were established and perfected to crunch the threat, are retrospectively amended and ameliorated to accommodate his actions, senior figures in the government and the health system vomit faecal vacuities in his defence and undermine our trust in our guardians, then he’s an idiot or a liar or both.

The thing I find most contemptuous is that he has shown the rule of law is not, he has shown us that there are some people who are “free” to do as they see fit. And get away with it. And that the rest of us are subject to arbitrary power. This is what fundamentally identifies a slave.

He sees himself as one of the Masters of the Universe.
I’ve met some of them and they are clever people — he’s not thick but he’s not in their league — he’s a dim person’s idea of what a clever person is.

But they too mistook cleverness for wisdom and they are not the same thing.
And not what we need.

Someone to watch over us

The Guardian
The Guardian

We’re all little lambs lost in the wood … from time to time.

Added to my Sketches.


Holy Cow
Holy Cow

Perhaps Aaron was right: find yourself lost in the wilderness and you offer your prayers to anyone who’ll listen.
Perhaps not.

Either way — no deals. All these gods have had thousands of years to hone their negotiating tactics. No quid pro quo.

Perhaps it’s a problem we have.

Stalked by Poussin again it seems.

The Night Watch

The Night Watch
The Night Watch

Narrative painting is anathema to me. Absolutely. Totally. The curse of English Art as Francis Bacon believed. He never painted a narrative painting in his life. Bollocks. All of it.
Literary painting, yes. Illustrating limp tales of limp knights and soft porn nymphs and moist snaggle-haired witches on damp nights. Yep.

Great Art is great because it is universal, self-contained, self-sufficient … sounds like self-abuse to me.

But I never thought I would make an image that was set somewhere, never mind one that took in time.
Cave paintings, royal hunts, bible stories, Buddhist monks, manga, rebellious Gauls … OK, fair enough — it’s all been there all along.

But these people seem to have taken charge, writing and directing, choreographing, improvising, playing games. My job is to just record. OK, fair enough.

Perhaps Corona dreams are a thing after all.

Added to my Sketches page.

Twilight’s Last Gleaming

Picnic Dance
Picnic Dance

It was a long day … in all sorts of ways.

Well, I added them to my rolling list.

Elephantine Gestation

Anput Leading the Way
Anput Leading the Way

She was a long time coming …

Somehow a darker version seemed more apposite … I have no idea why.

Now to keep moving. Somehow

Headless Chickens

Dancing Acephale
Dancing Acephale

Me, rather than this fella. As in running around like … that sort of week.
Not sure where he surfaced from … apart from that hypnopompic dozy time before you’re fully awake.

Just a few new additions in a week of work.

Social Media

The Archivist
The Archivist

There I was about to write an erudite, apposite, and any other sort of ite, post about the ways in which social media are corrupting our relationships and poisoning our conversations, if not actually having much real effect on our political world, (with quotes and percentages and all) while paradoxically enriching our connectiveness and widening our world views … and then I thought: I’m tired, I’ve had a lovely relaxing day, thinking of nothing more strenuous than chickens and how to enrich their diet and ironically a new twist on chicken chasseur, which worked beautifully by the way, and luxuriating in cheap wine and warm fire and good company and I thought: sod it, I’m going to read a book and fall asleep and dream of paradises as yet unimagined, works as yet untried, triumphs as yet untasted and … well … that’s private.

Sleep well. Sweet dreams.

Oh, and I’ve added this sketch to my rolling page too. Enjoy.