Peace Comes With Acknowledgement Of One’s Own Mortality.



It’s about knowing that life is finite, as is energy in any given form or shape. Energy flows out and in, to and from any vessel, and energy cannot be destroyed.

ROMA O MORTE (Rome or Death): Rome, Italy 2003 by Pete Ippel

ROMA O MORTE (Rome or Death): Rome, Italy 2003 by Pete Ippel


It’s the longing and the emptiness that allows for the kinetic and dynamic to enter. Harmony is false, because it denies flow. Being full is false, because it denies longing.

Openness allows for boundaries to exist, just as boundaries allow for openness…Thereby creating a vessel for energy. If there are no boundaries, there can be no peace nor present.

ALLRISK
?

Map Energy Time Uncertainty To Being HUMAN Rather Than SPECTROSCOPY:



Excited states have a finite lifetime. By the time-energy uncertainty principle, they do not have a definite energy, and each time they decay the energy they release is slightly different. The average energy of the outgoing photon has a peak at the theoretical energy of the state, but the distribution has a finite width called the natural linewidth. Fast-decaying states have a broad linewidth, while slow decaying states have a narrow linewidth

So you have a high linewidth (bandwidth) life, you have shorter excited state, and vice versa? Regarding to high risk behavior and early death.

For After All What Is Man In Nature?



Everyone Can Afford Clouds by Pete Ippel

Everyone Can Afford Clouds by Pete Ippel

“A nothing in relation to infinity, all in relation to nothing, a central point between nothing and all and infinitely far from understanding either. The ends of things and their beginnings are impregnably concealed from him in an impenetrable secret. He is equally incapable of seeing the nothingness out of which he was drawn and the infinite in which he is engulfed.”

-Blaise Pascal, Pensées #72

Being defined by a world focused on physical limitation, mental disability, and economic bias becomes tiresome. Until action serves all things moot. Fitness never fails, whether it is the condition of being physically fit and healthy, or the quality of being suitable to fulfill a particular role or task. There can be no lies if one only speaks the truth, there can be no intellectual property if one shares ideas freely, there can be no fraud if one commits to authenticity.

Everyone can afford clouds.

On The Right Track: Teaching Philosophy and Artist Statement Convergence



Yesterday I was asked to deliver a 150 word teaching philosophy for my new position as visiting faculty at the San Francisco Art Institute, I took a day to think about it.

Today I had a wonderful realization, I’m spot on. According to Iowa State’s Center for Excellence in Learning and Teaching a teaching philosophy has to answer four questions:

  1. To What End?
  2. By What Means?
  3. To What Degree?
  4. Why?

When I moved to Ventura to pursue art full time, I decided to combine my artist statement with positive affirmation and visualization (skills I’d honed while high jumping in college). For the dedication of my space, I essentially got a tattoo, not on my body but on my studio. By getting a cut vinyl sign I ramped up the professionalism and aligned myself visually with respected galleries. In addition I placed the sign strategically by door so everyone walking in or out has to look at it, including me.

Having grown up in the Midwest, I’m very aware of the implications pre-performance sign rituals have in preparing for competition. Taking a page from the great coach Lou Holtz, I made my own, artistic “Play like a champion today.”

Artist Statement

For over a decade I have explored and combined traditional art materials with digital techniques demonstrating creative fluency. By moving with ease and grace through a variety of media, I focus on communicating ideas and I gain knowledge in the process.

I work intuitively and iteratively when creating art and often apply scientific methodology to my art practice with the rigor of a seasoned athlete.

By observing human behavior, asking generative questions, and analyzing information, I experience daily how a disciplined process leads to comprehension of complex data and ideas. I use my artistic sensibility to present my findings in unique and compelling ways.

I appreciate the interdisciplinary nature of the artist’s life. I aspire to travel, to teach, and to create while extending my exhibition record. Being nourished creatively while partaking in a challenging path is a delight, and I particularly relish learning along the way.

Art is the most practical, essential, and exciting field of work in the world today, and I look forward to sharing it with you. I guarantee that you will have never seen anything like my art before.

So when I looked at my artist statement today in relation to the four questions that a teaching philosophy must answer I simply modified my statement.

Teaching Philosophy

(To What End?) I appreciate the interdisciplinary nature of the artist’s life and I want to demonstrate that being nourished creatively while partaking in a challenging path is a delight. (By What Means?) By teaching students to move with ease and grace through a variety of media, I show them how to focus on communicating ideas. (Why?) Art is the most practical, essential, and exciting field of study in the world today, and I look forward to sharing it with you as we move toward (To What Degree?) creative fluency.

Concise, to the point, and very clear, this convergence of teaching philosophy and artist statement demonstrates to me that I am prioritizing properly and that the visualizations are working. I am confident that over the next eight months I will achieve my goal of a sustainable art career by March 2011 (the 4th sixteen-week cycle which I will explain later).

Audentis Fortuna Iuvat!

Selected Passages from Huxley’s Brave New World



If you want to think, read Brave New World. Here are a few excerpts that I found particularly compelling.

On friendship

“One of the more principal functions of a friend is to suffer (in a milder and symbolic form) the punishments that we should like, but are unable, to inflict upon our enemies. p. 179

Dialogue about happiness and art: p. 221-222

Mustapha Mond shook hands with all three of them; but it was to the Savage that he addressed himself. “So you don’t much like civilization, Mr. Savage,” he said.

The Savage looked at him. He had been prepared to lie, to bluster, to remain sullenly unresponsive; but, reassured by the good-humoured intelligence of the Controller’s face, he decided to tell the truth, straightforwardly. “No.” He shook his head.

Bernard started and looked horrified. What would the Controller think? To be labeled as the friend of a man who said that he didn’t like civilization–said it openly and, of all people, to the Controller–it was terrible. “But, John,” he began. A look from Mustapha Mond reduced him to an abject silence.

“Of course,” the Savage went on to admit, “there are some very nice things. All that music in the air, for instance …”

“Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about my ears and sometimes voices.”

The Savage’s face lit up with a sudden pleasure. “Have you read it too?” he asked. “I thought nobody knew about that book here, in England.”

“Almost nobody. I’m one of the very few. It’s prohibited, you see. But as I make the laws here, I can also break them. With impunity, Mr. Marx,” he added, turning to Bernard. “Which I’m afraid you can’t do.”

Bernard sank into a yet more hopeless misery.

“But why is it prohibited?” asked the Savage. In the excitement of meeting a man who had read Shakespeare he had momentarily forgotten everything else.

The Controller shrugged his shoulders. “Because it’s old; that’s the chief reason. We haven’t any use for old things here.”

“Even when they’re beautiful?”

“Particularly when they’re beautiful. Beauty’s attractive, and we don’t want people to be attracted by old things. We want them to like the new ones.”

“But the new ones are so stupid and horrible. Those plays, where there’s nothing but helicopters flying about and you feel the people kissing.” He made a grimace. “Goats and monkeys!” Only in Othello’s word could he find an adequate vehicle for his contempt and hatred.

“Nice tame animals, anyhow,” the Controller murmured parenthetically.

“Why don’t you let them see Othello instead?”

“I’ve told you; it’s old. Besides, they couldn’t understand it.”

Yes, that was true. He remembered how Helmholtz had laughed at Romeo and Juliet. “Well then,” he said, after a pause, “something new that’s like Othello, and that they could understand.”

“That’s what we’ve all been wanting to write,” said Helmholtz, breaking a long silence.

“And it’s what you never will write,” said the Controller. “Because, if it were really like Othello nobody could understand it, however new it might be. And if were new, it couldn’t possibly be like Othello.”

“Why not?”

“Yes, why not?” Helmholtz repeated. He too was forgetting the unpleasant realities of the situation. Green with anxiety and apprehension, only Bernard remembered them; the others ignored him. “Why not?”

“Because our world is not the same as Othello’s world. You can’t make flivvers without steel–and you can’t make tragedies without social instability. The world’s stable now. People are happy; they get what they want, and they never want what they can’t get. They’re well off; they’re safe; they’re never ill; they’re not afraid of death; they’re blissfully ignorant of passion and old age; they’re plagued with no mothers or fathers; they’ve got no wives, or children, or lovers to feel strongly about; they’re so conditioned that they practically can’t help behaving as they ought to behave. And if anything should go wrong, there’s soma. Which you go and chuck out of the window in the name of liberty, Mr. Savage. Liberty!” He laughed. “Expecting Deltas to know what liberty is! And now expecting them to understand Othello! My good boy!”

The Savage was silent for a little. “All the same,” he insisted obstinately, “Othello’s good, Othello’s better than those feelies.”

“Of course it is,” the Controller agreed. “But that’s the price we have to pay for stability. You’ve got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art. We’ve sacrificed the high art. We have the feelies and the scent organ instead.”

“But they don’t mean anything.”

“They mean themselves; they mean a lot of agreeable sensations to the audience.”

“But they’re … they’re told by an idiot.”

The Controller laughed. “You’re not being very polite to your friend, Mr. Watson. One of our most distinguished Emotional Engineers …”

“But he’s right,” said Helmholtz gloomily. “Because it is idiotic. Writing when there’s nothing to say …”

“Precisely. But that requires the most enormous ingenuity. You’re making flivvers out of the absolute minimum of steel–works of art out of practically nothing but pure sensation.”

The Savage shook his head. “It all seems to me quite horrible.”

“Of course it does. Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.”

or the sake of the labourers; it would be sheer cruelty to afflict them with excessive leisure. It’s the same with agriculture. We could synthesize every morsel of food, if we wanted to. But we don’t. We prefer to keep a third of the population on the land. For their own sakes–because it takes longer to get food out of the land than out of a factory. Besides, we have our stability to think of. We don’t want to change. Every change is a menace to stability. That’s another reason why we’re so chary of applying new inventions. Every discovery in pure science is potentially subversive; even science must sometimes be treated as a possible enemy. Yes, even science.” p.224

Science? The Savage frowned. He knew the word. But what it exactly signified he could not say. Shakespeare and the old men of the pueblo had never mentioned science, and from Linda he had only gathered the vaguest hints: science was something you made helicopters with, some thing that caused you to laugh at the Corn Dances, something that prevented you from being wrinkled and losing your teeth. He made a desperate effort to take the Controller’s meaning.

“Yes,” Mustapha Mond was saying, “that’s another item in the cost of stability. It isn’t only art that’s incompatible with happiness; it’s also science. Science is dangerous; we have to keep it most carefully chained and muzzled.” p225

On being human, what makes art…suffering?

“What you need,” the Savage went on, “is something with tears for a change. Nothing costs enough here.”

(“Twelve and a half million dollars,” Henry Foster had protested when the Savage told him that. “Twelve and a half million–that’s what the new Conditioning Centre cost. Not a cent less.”)

“Exposing what is mortal and unsure to all that fortune, death and danger dare, even for an eggshell. Isn’t there something in that?” he asked, looking up at Mustapha Mond. “Quite apart from God–though of course God would be a reason for it. Isn’t there something in living dangerously?”

“There’s a great deal in it,” the Controller replied. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”

“What?” questioned the Savage, uncomprehending.

“It’s one of the conditions of perfect health. That’s why we’ve made the V.P.S. treatments compulsory.”

“V.P.S.?”

“Violent Passion Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the inconveniences.”

“But I like the inconveniences.”

“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.” There was a long silence.

“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last. chapter 17 p240