Category Archives: Art

Artist

Artist: (n) a person who practices any of the various creative arts. dictionary with letter A

I was a bit flabbergasted.

The young lady on the television show referred to herself as “beautiful.”

Being the rogue human specimen that I am, I immediately began to look for moles, blemishes and unwanted hair on her personage.

I wanted to hurt her. Isn’t that terrible?

Even though we extol the importance of self-love, personal worth and valuing one’s own being, when it actually turns into words that are spoken aloud, it’s really gross. It is a contradiction in our society which doesn’t seem to be addressed very well by the present thinking.

In other words, we want people to be great; we want people to be confident, but mostly, we want people to be humble.

It is the same sensation I experienced when watching the recent Grammy Awards and hearing people refer to themselves as “artists.” I just don’t think it’s a self-proclamation.

I guess if you want to call me an artist and you’re insistent, I can bow my head and thank you, but at the same time, proffer the notion that I’m working towards that goal rather than having achieved it.

There are just some things you cannot say in life without becoming an asshole. (For instance, using the word “asshole” too much places you in this predicament.)

We are a peculiar sort. We do not like people who hide in the corner in fear, having to be drawn out to offer their gifts.

But if anyone arrives at the party thinking they’re going to be the “life” and insisting on being the focus, we all want to run over and turn off the spotlight.

What is the correct procedure? Here’s what I believe:

Find out what you can do, do it a little better all the time and let the quality of the work speak for itself while you remain silent.

I would much rather be called up than put down.

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Artillery

Artillery: (n) large-caliber guns used in warfare on land.dictionary with letter A

Lobbing huge shells through the air often countless miles, to land to Earth, to wreak havoc and create destruction.

The purpose for such a weapon is to grant the consolation that we can believe we are fighting a war without actually having to behold the devastation.

It’s really quite ingenious in a devious way.

After all, what could be more intense and ferocious than hand-to-hand combat, where we place our lives in jeopardy, hoping that we’re strong enough to overcome our opponent, or even sitting in a foxhole, shooting our rifles across the no-man’s land, hoping to hit some man?

I’m not going to write either a rebuke of war or a promotion of it in order to preserve freedom.

But I will tell you that the way we lob artillery shells of words, emotions and anger across our cultures in today’s battlefield of human communication is nasty.

It used to be that people had names. Then, for a while, they had titles. And now we identify each other by clan and culture.

So it’s Republicans against Democrats. No decent Republican will step out of the pack, be an individual and vote on a specific issue separate from the party plans.

Likewise, no Democrat will have a kind word for a Republican because in so doing, he or she might accidentally promote their pernicious cause.

In today’s world, we are black and we are white. We are Hispanic and Native American.

Trying to gain individuality in a season when individuality is supposedly extolled is virtually impossible because we need to summarize all of our problems in an eight-minute segment on CNN or Fox News.

So we lob shells at each other.

We refuse to stand as individuals–a person who is given a name, possessing one beautiful brain and be our own person, but instead, we want to conduct a wicked war of words from a distance, never completely comprehending the damage we do to one another.

There is no such thing as a black culture. There are people who have black skin.

There is no such thing as a white Native American, Hispanic, Asian, French, English, German or even NASCAR culture.

God gave us the personal space to make free-will choices, which if we sacrifice to be part of an artillery line of banging and clanging guns of words, is just another atrocity in an unrighteous war.

  • I am not white, I am human.
  • I am not of German descent, I am a person.

And if I’m going to do war with you, I’m going to have to face you eyeball-to-eyeball and express myself in a way that will communicate my conviction. I can’t sit in a roomful of white people and lob shells at the perceived enemy

It’s up to us:

The introduction of artillery gave us the ability to kill at a distance.

The introduction of “culture” has done the same.

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Artificial

Artificial: (adj) dictionary with letter Amade or produced by human beings instead of occurring naturally.

It was stuck on a side road in Mt. Shasta, California, high up in the mountains, where the air is thin enough that exercise is more difficult.

This didn’t stop me. I was determined to play tennis.

Considering the struggle I have with my knees today, it seems light-years in the past when I was able to run up and down the court, chasing a ball. But I did–and that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I had convinced one of my children to go out with me to look for this tennis court, and when we found it we were absolutely delighted. It proved a statement I had made to my son–that you could find what you wanted anywhere, as long as you were willing to search it out.

When we got out of our van and walked over to the court, we discovered something peculiar. Rather than being made out of concrete or macadam, this court was constructed out of some sort of experimental material–kind of a pottery-shell orange and felt a little spongy underfoot.

At first I was impressed. Matter of fact, there was a plaque hanging up, explaining the surface and how innovative it truly was.

It was artificial. (That meant it was cool.)

So we proceeded to play tennis on this material from outer space.

In about fifteen minutes I was totally exhausted, my ankles ached and my feet felt like I was walking on hot coals. The surface, which was meant to be comfortable, ended up being too mushy, and every time you ran you sank down into it just a little bit, making it nearly impossible to get back out of it.

If you stopped long enough and didn’t play tennis on it, it was a dream. It was like cavorting on pillows. But after all, tennis is not a walking sport; it is a running one. And every time I ran, I felt like I was sinking down into marshmallow cream.

After twenty or thirty minutes I gave up. I went back, took aspirin and swore never to play on such a turf again.

You see, the problem with artificial is that it tries to be a great imitation, which only, in the long run, makes you yearn more for the real.

 

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Artifice

Artifice: (n) clever or cunning devices or expedients, especially as used to trick or deceive othersdictionary with letter A

I’ve always been fascinated with the simile, “Sheep in the midst of wolves, wise as serpents, and as harmless as doves.”

Even though this comes from the Good Book, it really promotes an excellent lifestyle choice in what people often believe to be the “big, bad world.”

We spend way too much time bitching about the wolves and complaining about our sheepish profile–which seems to fail to have an ability to sink its teeth into the problem.

I suppose if I believed I was just a sheep surrounded by wolves I would not only be paranoid, but completely exasperated.

But the simile continues.

I am to be “wise as a serpent.”

That means I am supposed to sit down and allow my brain to conjure an idea that will give me an artifice–a means by which I can outsmart my competition. Of course, there is a danger that I could just become part of the problem by being equally as wolf-like as the rest of the carnivores out there, trying to devour humankind.

So the closing part of the simile is very important. Deep in my heart I need to be as harmless as a dove.

In other words, my motivation must be for the betterment of all and not just for the prospering of myself.

I use cleverness and cunning every day of my life. If I were not prepared to come up with inspiration and approaches that are smarter than my adversary, I am ill-prepared to be in the marketplace.

But I must also realize that the fact that I share a message that is geared to sheep does put me at the mercy of critical wolves, and that my ability to spiritually discern real-time situations and come up with intelligent revisions must be tempered by a heart that is harmless and only wants to bring peace.

It is that artifice that makes knowledge work for good… even as it dispels the evil.

 

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Artifact

Artifact: (n) an object made by a human being, typically an item of cultural or historical interest.dictionary with letter A

Can it be an artifact if nobody’s interested in it?

As a writer, performer and general journeyman in the human stream of consciousness, I often become so self-absorbed with the value of my work and message that I fail to recognize whether it has any intrinsic worth.

I had a dream last night where I was confronted by my own inadequacy. I realize that some people would think that was a nightmare, but it was so enriching to my soul that I nearly wept.

The message in this night vision was simple: “You’re not as good as you think you are.”

Even though this revelation might make some people disconsolate or tear at the very fiber of their being, I found it relieving.

I’ve always had a deep sense of purpose in what I do, thinking that every drop of sweat that careens from my talent and drips to the earth needs to be infused with inspiration.

What a crock.

I am mortal–and therefore destined to die, but granted, in the meantime, an opportunity to leave behind some artifacts of my feelings, beliefs and attitudes. I know these will need to be sifted by future travelers, who will evaluate my work based on the current trends.

In other words, some things are going to last because they should and some things are going to pass away because likewise, they’re meant for the trash.

I am not discouraged by this.

I want my life to be an artifact. If people decide to reject my craft, I still want them to say, “But you know, he was a pretty cool, content guy.”

For when all the artifacts are collected, human beings still want to put a face on blessing.

I just want to make sure my face is sparkling with a countenance of joy.

 

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Articulate

Articulate: (v) to express an idea fluidly or coherently.dictionary with letter A

I think we’re fine as long as the disease does not spread to the American living room.

I guess we’ve just reached the point in our history when we expect politicians to parse words, fudge facts and grope for non-answers. My problem is that when it begins to trickle down and become part of the mind-set of the general populace, it really gets annoying.

Here are the facts: I would love to ask you a question and have you just answer it. Could you please just articulate your present situation without giving me too much history or too many excuses?

Yet we have sufficiently frightened the American people out of talking because they think they might say something “wrong,” so therefore they end up not saying much of anything at all.

May I share the standard three-step process of human communication?

  1. I spoke quickly.
  2. This is the correction.
  3. Honestly, I’m still learning.

If you spend your whole life trying to come up with the safe answer, you will fail to accomplish anything. I would love to have a politician, a preacher, a pundit or a pauper simply give me the first answer that comes into their minds–and let them clarify it later.

I am tired of Congressmen and even our President mulling over the question, trying to find the very best way to give a non-response.

Hear ye, hear ye: what makes you articulate is the ability to articulate your feelings quickly, knowing that some revisions may be necessary, but delaying is maddening.

A question is asked. I am weary of people having a look on their faces like they’ve just been thumped by a two-by-four as they try to access information which they feel will be acceptable to share and might make them look intelligent.

If you want to appear smart, answer the damn question.

You can apologize later, you can add new stuff, you can even say you didn’t understand the original question if you want. But if you find yourself beginning to respond to every inquiry thrown your way with “ah,” “umm,” “well,” “let me see,” or “wow”–you probably are putting forth the message … that you’re struggling to acquire your best available lie.

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Arterior

Arterior: (adj) nearer to the back, especially situated near the back of the body or to the rear.dictionary with letter A

I did not know this word.

Candidly, there are many words I write about that I did not know the definition for until I went through the exercise of reading about their verbal personality.

But this definition immediately popped a piece of philosophy in mind, that I adhere to all the time, even though others might find it counter-productive.

It is a spiritual principle which has great emotional application in the practical world: “Take the arterior seat.”

Yeah.

  • Sit in the back.
  • Don’t push so hard.
  • Don’t thrust yourself forward.

The truth is, the squeaky wheel gets the grease once and then is replaced with a new tire. We are fatigued of those who are self-promoting, only to discover that in most cases they have too much “self” and not that much to promote.

When the Good Book tells us to take the lower seat, the writings do not stop there, making us believe that we just did this to be humble. No, it is very clear that the reason we take this arterior seat is so we can be called up by the desire of other people instead of the strength of our own ego.

It is also a warning–if you place yourself too high on the totem pole, somebody more worthy comes along and bumps you down.

It explains that the greatest danger in life is humiliation–not being ignored–humiliation by being forced to a lower seat instead of choosing one for ourselves.

I have worked this principle so many times that I can boldly guarantee it to you.

It’s not so much that pride goes before the fall. It’s more like pride is the fall that leaves us suspended in mid-air, unable to gain any footing.

 

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Article

Article: (n) a particular item or object, typically one of a specified type.dictionary with letter A

I occasionally bring up a phrase I heard as a kid to see if it’s still floating around in the general lexicon of today’s world.

More often than not it’s extinct.

But I didn’t have time to do this today, so I will venture a guess that a certain idea I learned as a child has probably gone the way of the hula-hoop. (Of course, how many people know what a hula-hoop is? Maybe I should say it’s gone the way of the last I-Phone.)

The phrase is “the real article.”

It’s a compliment we used to bestow on products, projects–and even people–when what they professed to be was what they actually delivered.

I would humbly contend that one of the errors of our time is the overabundance of opinions, which hang in the air, waiting for confirmation.

This is why I’m careful not to espouse too many doctrines or beliefs. I know I may not be able to follow up on them. More than anything else in life, I want to be “the real article.”

I want you to hear me say “blue” and not have you show up to get “green”–and a lot of excuses

I want to portray a functional form of love which is within my capacity instead of delivering you an ambiguous package of emotion, insisting it’s real (and maybe has come from God.)

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being shallow, weak and poor of spirit–as long as you have not portrayed yourself with a spotlight of nobility.

  • We don’t need people to be perfect.
  • We don’t require them to be great.
  • We are, however, pretty determined that they toe some sort of line of consistency.

The “real article” is a decision to set ourselves off and be candid about our weaknesses and willing to share our strengths without feeling the need to lie or apologize.

If there were a sudden burst of truthfulness that swept over the city of Washington, D.C., the legislators and even the President would have to admit that no single political party has all the solutions for our nation’s problems. Some resolutions require a conservative approach, and others plead for liberality.

It is the wise steward of purpose who can distinguish what needs to be done, and without fear, do what is necessary … and therefore, become “the real article.”

 

 

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Artichoke

Artichoke: (n) a European plant cultivated for its large thistlelike flower heads.dictionary with letter A

If there would actually be male and female artichokes, do you think that the woman would ever turn to her husband and say, “Artie, you got no heart…”?

I don’t know much about artichokes.

I have a friend who uses them to make a soup, and even though it’s very good, the substance that floats around in the broth kind of reminds me of broccoli stems.

Now, broccoli stems are not my favorite part of the broccoli. They always remind me of miniature renditions of the bean stalk that Jack climbed. They’ve got little places on them for your feet to situate for climbing, which are also very difficult to chew sometimes.

If somebody asked me what an artichoke tastes like, I would probably respond, “Green.” There is a whole series of vegetables which have a green taste. I’m sure they’re distinguishable, but I would be hard-pressed to describe that subtle nuance.

So as you can see, I am fumbling a bit with this subject, because everything I write is going to be incorrect due to my lack of knowledge. (But since that does not stop anybody from composing articles on blogs, I will persevere.)

I do recall that one thing I liked about my friend’s artichoke soup was how creamy it was. But that was probably due to butter and whole milk.

So if I was asked to give a definition for the artichoke, I would first compliment it for having a heart, and I would say that it represents the “Green Race” very well.

 

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Arthritis

Arthritis: (n) painful inflammation and stiffness of the joints.dictionary with letter A

We all reach the age when we are faced with a frightening choice: should we suffer in silence, or risk telling those around us about our pains, knowing that it makes us one step closer to the nursing home?

Such is arthritis.

It would be rather unusual to hear sixteen-year-olds complaining about their arthritis. They do get toothaches, they get headaches, they suffer fatigue and they are grouchy. These are things they understand. Inflamed, sore joints that don’t want to move correctly is beyond the spectrum of the normal thinking of anyone under the age of fifty.

So if you are foolish enough to bring up your pain–and then commit social suicide by giving it the name “arthritis”–you will soon be categorized in the minds of these younger folks as ancient … and pre-death.

So how does one live a life of candor and escape being cataloged like a dusty, old book? As is the case with everything in life, choose your words carefully–and work your audience.

If you look around the room and everyone is over the age of sixty-five, you can casually mention that you have an occasional flare-up with arthritis. But if the room is filled with those who were born post-Watergate, you should probably refrain from mentioning that word. (Also avoid wincing when walking.)

For I will tell you, being young is contingent on two factors: (1) Staying hip with what’s going on in your world; (2) and not sharing the number of milligrams of Lipitor that you take.

 

 

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