LIFE IS CHEAP II

Life is cheap! 

"The other morning on opening the pantry cupboard, and rummaging for the cereal box, we discovered that we had been invaded by a colony of ants, tiny brown ants, which we determined to be Pharaoh ants. Apparently, they originated in Africa, but have spread throughout the world.  Apparently  there are several queens in a colony all capable of laying eggs. They're guided by pheromones, but are not hostile to other Pharoah ants from overlapping colonies. Due to their size and their ability to inhabit just about any dwelling they've become more than a nuisance, indeed they've become a health hazard when they invade hospitals transferring infectious diseases from one area to another.

I mention this as once discovered we set about to get rid of them. We discovered that they had arrived in a box of biscuits, which we disposed of immediately. We then sprayed them with a vinegar solution and began killing them one by one by squashing them. After a couple of days we were down to the odd ant, which we assume was simply lost in the various packages and reappeared when we put everything back in the cupboard. In all we killed, with little to no remorse, several hundred ants.

The fact that we killed the ants without remorse got me to thinking about the fact that world wide attrocities are committed on a daily basis. At the time of this writing waring forces in Syria account for 90,000 persons being killed, the vast majority innocent victims. Daily we read about suicide bombers, car bombs, and the such taking the lives of innocents in the name of Allah/ God. In the recent past millions, upon millions, have been killed for political gain. Faceless, nameless, all innocent victims.

We say we care, but do we? We find it appalling, but do we?

Life is cheap, replaceable, in a world overpopulated.

Will we change, come to our senses? Following each conflict we make a pact promising to never let the past repeat itself. A senseless promise for as it has been stated, "to know the past, is to know the future."

~~~~

I wrote this piece back in 2013. Sadly, nothing has changed. At last count some 400,000 persons, men, women, and children, had been killed in the ongoing Syrian conflict. Innocents are blown up, killed, on a daily basis in places such as Afghanistan, and Pakistan, and so on. In the U.S.A. thus far this year some 50,000 people have been shot and 7,000 killed with handguns, and yet the argument over their use and possession by the average citizen goes on with those in favour clinging to a misguided, misinterpreted Right in the American Constitution. Innocents are being killed all over the world, including Canada, by persons mentally flawed. Millions have fled their homelands due to internal conflict, and degradation of the land caused by misuse and neglect. Fascism is on the rise as nations seek to prevent migrants from seeking refuge.

We humans take pride in our achievements, our ability to terraform planet Earth. It’s time to take off the rose coloured glasses and admit that we’ve truly messed up the only paradise most of us will ever know. No wonder there are those that speak openly about escape to another planet, another solar system, suggesting that this action will serve to save humanity. What rubbish!

The other day I watched an online video in which an astronaut went on and on about the benefits of exploring space. He made it sound so exciting, living in a totally hostile environment where death lurks around every corner, and where one misstep results in your suffering a gruesome and hideous death. Others of this same ilk work towards, one day, travelling  to the closest  star to our Solar System, Proxima Centauri, which is about 4.24 light years from Earth. This got me to thinking about we humans and questioning just why we’d want to share our dubious achievement with another life form, or worse attempt to terraform some other planet and recreate the mess we have here on Earth. In frustration I sat down and rattled off a poem:-

WE COME IN PEACE

We humans,

mere mortals,

have decided that we should share

our being,

our existence, 

………………..with the universe!

How large is that?

Consider,

in the short time that we humans have evolved,

risen from the dust,

we’ve become the very symbol 

of greed, and violence. 

We blame our wicked ways

for the sins of Adam and Eve,

who were thrown out,

banished,

from an earthly paradise,

for disobeying the will

of a God

conjured up in visions

in times of trouble

by uncompromising,

violent zealots, 

who threaten death 

to non believers.

Billions have died

in the name of

a loving God.

And now, 

we propose to go forward, 

travel into space,

into the unknown,

to places where no man has gone before, 

and make our presence known,

so that all will know that,

………………………………………WE COME IN PEACE!

How large is that?

EAS

Why, oh why, are we listening to, helping those that wish to abandon Earth, those that would spend the Earth’s resources to fuel a childhood fantasy the result of reading science fiction? Science fiction is simply that, fiction. Earth’s resources should not be spent on the wild dreams of a few people, but in fixing our mistakes and setting planet Earth, our home, on a path of recovery. If we can imagine going off into space and achieving the unimaginable, then are we not capable of making our world  a peaceful paradise?

Killarney Provincial Park      Watercolour Painting

Autumn - Lake Superior Country    Watercolour Sketch

OLD ARTISTS SIMPLY FADE AWAY

I was recently asked what happens to artists as they grow old, do they simply fade away? 

An interesting question for which there’s no real answer, although I can say that in my case as I aged, grew older, I became tired of the politics of art, and as a result allowed myself  to slip-slide away. I’ve noticed that I’m not alone when it comes to being tired of ever producing more art, and having to wave my arms to attract attention. It’s a difficult life, with not much reward. Most don’t realize all that goes into working at being an artist. 

The majority of persons believe that the artist simply paints a picture and magically it’s framed and appears on a gallery wall, where it is magically sold for a lot of money. Don’t I wish. The truth is that apart from first of all learning how to draw and paint the artist has to gain recognition through hard work and sacrifice, recognition enough to be lucky to be chosen to hang your work in a reputable gallery.  I use the word reputable, as there are many art galleries, but few owned and operated by persons who know anything about art, and have a clientele also educated in the arts.  As well, most don’t realize that artists rarely sell all the work that they produce, and that what they do sell is subject to a commission as well as various other expenses. Truth be known most artists have little work chosen to be hung in reputable galleries, and depend upon various group exhibits, art festivals, and sales through their own studios to simply exist.

There are many masters for the artist to please, and working to please everyone can, and does, become tiring.

I began to slip-slide away when, tired of wrapping and packing and setting up at this and that festival, or showing, I limited my exhibiting to my own studio. This worked for awhile, but then we decided to move, and I lost my studio. I had every intention of creating a new studio and continuing to exhibit, but then along came the digital era opening the possibility of exhibiting using the world wide web. It had possibilities, but by this time I was using the computer to do some writing, and hit upon the idea of using my art and experiences to produce “print on demand” books. I realized that there wasn’t much money to be made from producing books, especially if your not travelling around the country with a trunk load of your books, but continued in that direction, until one day I looked carefully in the mirror and realized, that I had become an old artist. I decided to continue to write, produce books, and do the occasional sketch, or painting to fill in gaps in my books.

And here we are, I’ve all but slip-slid away. Soon, no doubt, I’ll simply fade away. If I’m lucky (of course I won’t know) the memory of what I accomplished will continue on for awhile with the help of Google, and my books.  In time, however, my paintings and drawings will join with the art of countless other artists, and end up buried in some landfill. 

Have you ever wondered….

Have you ever wondered

where our memories go,

when we are old,

and go away.

Do memories simply fade away?

As we fade

slowly,

do our memories leave,

and find a place

secure in time,

or do they follow

our ascent

to a better time.

It’s sad to think

that memories made

with such a struggle,

laced with pain, 

and sorrow,

would simply be forgotten.

Memories made should be cherished,

and shared,

preserved,

so that we,

and those before,

will never be forgotten.

EAS

~~~~

Various Pencil Drawings 2014