Archive for original art

23 Aug 2013: Something is Afoot

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on August 23, 2013 by spinoza1111

Screen Shot 2013-08-07 at 10.46.33 AM

Edward G. Nilges, “Something is Afoot: Cancer’s Effect on My Left Foot”

My Left Foot has been grievously wounded by the combination of the cancer’s pressure from the lymph nodes on nerves and muscles and bones of the groin, and last winter’s “Deep Vein Thrombosis” acquired on my 14 hour transpacific flights for my poor son’s funeral.

The therapy shall include this drawing, and a deeper drawing of the muscle structure, for it appears that when I push my left toe to the left or up manually, it isn’t participating in the motion. But then it powerfully pushes back. Which means that of a matching pair of muscles called the “adductor” and “abductor” the one that lifts the toe towards the mean saggital plane of my body, the adductor, has failed while the abductor is working.

Got the details above from wikipedia, knew of the concept from art anatomy.

So, the question is whether I can spend time pushing the toe up and towards the mean sagittal plane, and let it abduct away from the MSP which it seems to do by itself. Will this bring back abductor function?

I got a holistic sense in running that it’s all like wow this big sphere and if you fix any part of a sphere you fix the whole thing. Wow…where did that come from. Of course, it comes from the Jewish saying that he who saves one life saves the whole world. Or one toe. Just keep the damn thing moving, each healthy cell contains the whole story in the form of DNA. Keep it moving in running, the dance, walking.

I hate walking, it’s so old aged. It forces you to stay at the speed of the slowest member of your family. Oh yeah, let it out, let out the bile…I want to run and run free on Bondi down to Bronte along the Fatal Shore (translation: Sydney Australia). And yet the eyes of Peter’s babies keep drawing me in these pretty little photographs the volunteers helped me frame. Tessa America offers me her baby ring toy if I would visit and Esme perks up.

Listen! For some oddwad with nothing better to do has loaded a very good (English Baroque Soloists) version of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio with its sublime, dignified arias from one of those overpriced DVDs or BluRays.

Schlafen, meine Lieben…: Sleep, my dearest: enjoy thy rest

Schlafen, meine Lieben, the aria at about 40 minutes, is exceptionally good. I am using the music, somewhat guiltily, to mask out the coughing of the bird lung man (the one whose lungs have been so weakened that his cough is like the call of a bird) and Bald Man’s Wife, the wife of the balding man who’s dying, who comes up almost defiantly with a normal man’s cough, heavy with sputum. The wife of the dying man has caught a virus or a bug and is coughing her lungs out but there’s nobody who’ll stay with her husband, I’d guess, but her. The men of the family show up, stick around for five minutes waiting for, what? Money? Forgiveness? To be able to forgive? I don’t know, I just know that the women hold up more than half what’s left of Tian, sky, for the men.

The Bird Lung Man’s Wife came, apparently for the first time. She brought congee in a metal breakfast bucket and the Bird Lung Man ate it greedily for each home made congee in Hong Kong is unique.

But the Bird Lung Man’s Wife refused to sit where he could see her, and kept sort of turning out the door or looking my way as if I’d help her. I was very annoyed by this and went to the small convenience store. When I got back, Bird Lung Man’s Wife and he were actually exchanging pleasantries. Some sort of reconciliation? But she’s gone with me resenting her a lot for not staying.

4 Aug 2013 – Hk Students Tiffany and Ben to the Rescue

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on August 4, 2013 by spinoza1111

…brought home-made congee and a solution to blurred Photoshop.

Ben and Tiffany from HK Poly and HKU solved my blurred Photoshop problem. Dumbo here (that’s me) had placed transparent tape over the Webcam to hopefully repair some cracks at the top of the screen caused by dropping the computer excessively. The tape blurred the photoshop image in all cases.

Now it works thanks to Tiffany and Ben!
01HK Volunteers

The Congee had Thousand Year Pickled Eggs which sounds expensive but isn’t. It replaced my lunch which was Stanley Prison Chicken Surprise as is usual here. I should have canceled my lunch but in my confusion had forgot that Tiffany and Ben were coming today.

I also have beautiful framed portraits of the grandchildren thanks to T and B: I will show these once I have drawings to put in them. Right now they have photographs of the grandchildren.

And, I can upload my drawing of Esme as a Buddha! In the West all babies are Churchill: but in the East all babies are the Buddha…even Western babies manage to look like the Buddha here.

01 Esme as admonishing baby
Edward G Nilges, “Esme is the Buddha: Esme is da Bomb: Esme Admonishes Us as to the Eightfold Way”: pencil and computer modifications, 4 August 2013: Copyright 2013 Edward G. Nilges: moral rights asserted.

Change Record

08 05 2013 Added missing endquote

2 July 2013: Said Immanuel Kant, “do you think you know the Ding an Sich? Well, you … can’t.”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on July 2, 2013 by spinoza1111

Screen Shot 2013-07-02 at 11.02.52 AM

Edward G. Nilges, “Yay Boogers”, pen on A4 paper, 2 July 2013. Copyright (C) 2013 by Edward G. Nilges.

Workout first thing at 5:30: ten minute walk, rather short rest, one flight of stairs up and down: then, 80 aerobic steps on the lowest riser. Apart from pain that was continuous during the workout and thereafter until the effect of a Fentanyl shot, a more comfortable workout than yesterday’s Great American Disaster.

Looking forward to a solitary “home” leave for one day tomorrow in which I will go to Esslee books (the crazy nuts book superstore in Causeway Bay) and a stationer’s, then get civilized chocs (75%+ cacao) and then return to Grantham.

Will try to stay within 500.00 HK budget for books & chocs which may mean one very good, very “difficult” book, perhaps one with exercises. Of course I have brought my book “Analyzing Sentences” in which one learns by drawing Chomsky syntax drawings. I don’t know these for advanced sentential forms.

Then you commit to the book as I committed to Shakespeare’s Works and Kant’s Critique. I am sliding home with regards to the latter having made a best effort to learn from it by means of accessing additreneional materials including Dan Robinson’s excellent series of lectures at Oxford on the Critique, available free for iTunes university, free software inside iTunes which is free.

One defect I see in a lot of Kant scholarship is the lack of awareness of mathematics and its own philosophy on the part of Kant scholarship. It doesn’t seem, for example, that Peter Strawson was in 1960 aware of the mathematically “intuitionist” claim that we can’t contemplate complete infinities or use them in proofs (normally in the form of argument called “excluded middle”), but can contemplate them as being constructed or visited in a member-wise fashion, proving properties about infinities using recursion (it’s true of member 1, if it’s true of member n then (we’ve shown that) it’s true of member n+1).

Without any awareness of Cantor’s work in the distinction between “denumerable” and “non denumerable” infinities, Kant seems to be wary of infinite undifferentiated substance (a non-denumerable infinity) and reasoning about finished infinities, denumerable or non denumerable. This is a wariness of the northern Continent, producing the Dutch school of mathematical intuitionism of Brouwer and Heyting, whereas English philosophers, strangely, don’t share its wariness of finished infinities, and are like Strawson too wrapped around the axle of their own presumptions to really listen to what Kant is trying to express – the invention of Mathematical Intuitionism before Cantor in Kant’s famously incomprehensible language, incomprehensible due to the fact that Kant was inventing things before they were invented; bootstrapping as it were his way into the concerns of 20th century philosophy.

My attraction to an office supply store, called here a stationer’s, is mysterious yet powerful: my Pop had it too. Basically a genuine need exists to get organized and transit to the sphere of the written as opposed to orality. One seeks the ultimate Packet in which knowledge can exist.

For example, I have a lovely medical file, a large plastic box with medical documents indexed with a number written in their upper left-hand corner. I now know that my reaction to the rather unpleasant (to say the least) prospect of my death, at least at this stage, is to be Frederick the Great with a wasp in his arse, always organizing things. And, the stationer’s allows my organizational imagination free play with its red and black Chinese books and modern file folders that are made of plastic…adding to the Pacific Garbage Gyre to be certain, but which allow you to see what’s in the folder, or to make a big sign visible in the folder saying what it contains for the hard of seeing.

KANT Limericks

There was an old man by a Canal
Who said, you’re all aught but canaille
If you think you’re Transcendental
Then you are most assuredly mental!
Averred that disgusting old man by a canal!

There was a Professor in Holstein
Who said, ach this Kant is a swine!
I have all sorts of honors
Ich haben all zorts of Degreez
But I Kant verstehe undt Ich Kant understand
A thing he is writing. Nor can zee boys in the band.

But that same Privat Dozent of Holstein
Read the Critique seven times seven time
Undt now he gets it: when we think at the edge of the page
We are reduced to ordering the preconditions of thought. That is (das ist) Philiswines may rage
But this is the Way so that privatdozent do say.

There was a student most stud
Ious who said I am “stoomped”
By Herr Doctor Kant who I can’t understand
Because of his style most complex and bland
In his turgid “Magnum Opus”, the Reinen Vernunft!

Kant, a Doctor of Philosophy,
In Konigsberg now Kaliningrad in what was Muscovy
Said, time and space are but the Way
We perceive the Beyond, or so I say:
More we cannot pretend to or else I be a knave most scurvy!

A gracious Lady, attendant on a Talk
On Metaphysics by Kant, did but slightly Balk:
“His word flow over me like the waters of the sea”
“He’s boring yet would I he might make sweet savage love to me”
Averred that gracious and most attentive Lady attendant on a Talk.

Said Immanuel Kant,
Know the ding an sich? Well, you can’t.

A Herr Doktor Professor in Konigsberg
Said unto his assistant, one Mortimer Snerg
You get an Intuition
When you see it’s your sensation
By way of Apperception
Which is when you know there is an “I”
That is having a sensation right on his big round ass
When I with ferrule cruel do smack it with Vim and Dash
And that is all you need to know here endeth today’s class!
Begone you useless lad!
Said that learned Professor of Kaliningrad!

Change Record

3 July 2013 Additional material re Kant’s premature invention of mathematical intuitionism
3 July 2013 Correction to Kant poem
5 July 2013 Correction to various errors: proofreading

1 June 2013

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on June 1, 2013 by spinoza1111

First thing workout at 6:00 AM: 20 minutes supine dance, 100 supine pull-ups, 63 steps (again, weaker leg bails at 13 steps, but it is strengthening).

Dark chunky congee and an egg. No drama about the egg. Getting double meals, applesauce to add weight. Unrestricted chocolate: usually get through a Snickers, small M & Ms and a metal box of Hershey’s Special Dark every night and will do so until weight is up to at least 150 lbs. (68 kg). Fascinated by the history and production of chocolate. It is on balance a healthy food but if I continue this level of use my weight will soon be the average American male’s at 6’2″ (188 cm): 230 lbs (104 cm).

[Sorry, this is repetition of something I say elsewhere: I wanted to get the metric and Imperial figures side by side.]

Grinding for the fourth time through the Analytic of Concepts without yet feeling I have made much progress. The ontological claptrap certainly seems to be justified, notably, the central role of “apperception”: the awareness, let’s say as experienced by a baby for the first time, that it’s a ME who sees the funny clown.

Do babies who have failed to thrive intellectually have a different ontology? is there for them just a funny clown and no “I”? It is important to give Recognition to children, Hegelian or otherwise, to glower at them solemnly and say hullo, you young brute, how is it hanging? My kids certainly had a lot of verbal input thus never any learning disorders. I read to them every night and had Meaningful Conversation as we solemnly examined what Peter called “jungle trees” in California and workmen pouring cement in Chicago.

Boredom with bad teaching isn’t a learning disorder. Nor is laziness and disorganization on the part of the child which in the case of a man child can be eradicated if the father can take the time to set a good example, and constantly inspect his child’s kit for proper storage of the right equipment. I regret that this last thing, this daily getting on my kids’ case like a Drill Instructor, was not an option.

Over the generations in my branch of our family, it has become hard save for my surviving son to keep our s*t wired together. Which means only that it was hard for my father, harder for me, and even harder for my dead son (I can hardly write that). My father developed tics and intolerance but (over) paid his taxes on time. I was constantly paying late fees. I had to pay my son’s library fines months after they were due. As a socialist, he said, he didn’t believe in library fines which, he said, were charged because the rich didn’t like libraries. I said that I felt that this was bullshit: in a socialist society, we should expect, at least in the (socialist) transition to full communism while money exists, to pay duties, taxes and fines.

Progressive politics simply cannot focus on stuff that you don’t like. Until socialism repeals scarcity, a socialist society could be a lot tougher than our free market society. We simple have to learn how to consume less.

I should probably not take my son’s moral inventory here of all places, and, he actually imposed upon himself a severe “austerity” in his late teens, not eating enough, and not dressing warmly, as I had done at an earlier age.

I said, you’re always getting sick, and winding up back with Mom because your flat has no heat, and you look like Wee Wullie (the collier’s dyin’ child) because unlike me you don’t wear a hat. He did start imitating my dress: OD sweaters and long military coats from this great military surplus urban clothing store on Belmont near the El. But military wear is usually to tight fitting save in the case of special designs to breath properly and circulate warm air properly, I said.

He minimally cost anyone anything. He conformed to his Mom’s rules when living at home as an adult, yet constantly tried to live independently. I tried to tell him that today isn’t like 1970, when I could move out to a studio renting at 75 per month, and today that many successful kids live with their parents. I lived with my parents briefly after my divorce and before moving to California and it was great, because Mom was happy working for Dad at Swedish Covenant Hospital.

I just miss my son and mourn him a lot as does his Mom. Returning to Catholic practice allows me to pray for my son, probably one of the “poor souls in Purgatory” that the nuns used to tell us about. Heck, Kant liberates me to through faith think of my son’s soul as a thing in itself in a nominal world suffering pain, and to pray for him.

4

Edward G. Nilges, “The Meeting of Theodore Adorno with Gretel Karplus”, pencil, pen, and computer modification on an A4 size surface, 2011.

“They” hate and “they” destroy the educated middle class: I felt the glower of a certain sort of hatred on me and my former wife when we were young and in love on public transportation as here are Adorno and his Gretel. In my son’s repeated efforts to have a meaningful relationship, did he? He tweeted a certain joy in 2007 about having a girlfriend and how guys in SUVs would glare at him.

28 April 2013: Portrait of a Granddaughter

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 28, 2013 by spinoza1111

Congee, and Coriolanus in my Grand High Shakespeare Re-Reading. Coriolanus has long been one of my favorite plays: although written in the 17th century and not during Shakespeare’s annos mirabulos 1596-99 it has the solidity of structure of Roman architecture, and Shakespeare’s 16th century output. One also rather likes the old dog, always slaying Volscians and ranting on and on about what a great guy he is and what scum the tribunes are, literally from scene 1 of act 1.

Antecedents of Coriolanus include Talbot in Henry VI Part 1 but Coriolanus is a much darker character than “the Talbot” who slays Frenchmen and escapes mad duchesses and their dwarves cheerfully by summoning his compatriots. Coriolanus may, and I speculate, express a hatred Shakespeare was beginning to feel for money-grubbing colleagues that wanted him to write masques and mirthful comic shows. His anti-type or foil? Timon of Athens: the Patricians of ancient Rome escaped property relations.

The best recent production is on DVD and stars Ralph Fiennes as Coriolanus and Vanessa Redgrave as his Mom, Volumnia.

Workout: 20 minutes “supine angel” first thing.

Esme drawing JPEG format

Edward G. Nilges, “Portrait of a Granddaughter”, Pencil, April 2013

Workout Log: 15 Sep 2012: The Train in Spain and Portugal Too

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on September 15, 2012 by spinoza1111

Edward G. Nilges, “Grandchild Flower”, 1 Sep 2012, copyright 2012 by Edward G. Nilges, moral rights asserted

Listen! For the Peacock is a symbol of life eternal.

Walk to Hung Shing Yeh beach with weights and 40 minute swimming and water dancing. Pain from yesterday’s race walk to catch the ferry, can rest now two days. Cool day…28 C.

Listen!

Concerto for Oboe and Violin

It was strange that the train seemed faster,
Than the plane, and it was unfortunate,
She thought, that this was Portugal,
And not Spain, a nice tripartite rhyme.
But it was not fast for her, her yearning,
To return to Lisbon and to him.

Edward G. Nilges January 2012

Era extraño que el tren dibujara tan rápido,
el mismo plano y que fuera bien inusitado.
Ella quiso pensar,que volaba a Portugal
y no a España,en un verso acaso inopinado.
Pero no era nada veloz,el tiempo y el anhelo
de volver a Lisboa,ya para siempre;ya con él.

Translation of Nilges poem by Mr. Paradoxicus

Fleet Enema

I have to execute health procedures that would of old be executed upon me by a wife or mistress but modern women do not choose as much to be nursemaids, and there it is. In other cases, such as that of the aging Frederick II The Great, King of Prussia, these procedures were executed by invisible yet necessary manservants.

For Wednesday’s surgery I have to self-administer an Enema. Right, you swine, this will read well in the Morning Post although I shall of course withhold details beyond the fact that the mission was accomplished. There are limits.

The enema kit is provided at low cost by our somewhat socialized medicine, a socialized system that sagaciously saves on costs by having us execute procedures such as this, and also the drinking of draughts of salts followed by a quick march to the loo prior to Endoscopy.

The name is Victorian, British: the Fleet Enema. I can well imagine this in old-fashioned packaging circa 1880, with the portrait perhaps of Horatio Nelson and the encouraging Maxim, England Expects Every Man to Do His Duty. And, running ’round the box, a row of running British sailors, obviously heading for the Loo.

Workout Log 9 September: Baby Et Up All Her Spinoza?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on September 9, 2012 by spinoza1111

- Edward G. Nilges, “Peter’s Crazy Teacher”, March 2012. Copyright 2012 by Edward G. Nilges. Moral rights asserted.

Listen!

Halfway up the wind-mill hill of dawn and then to Hung Shih Yeh Beach for a twenty minute water dance and swim. Still have the right hip slight pain upon swimming. Beautiful Day.

F. Scott Fitzgerald writes this. This is what Scottie Fitzgerald wrote in an article for Esquire, The Crack-Up.

“’Instead of being so sorry for yourself, listen — ‘, she said. (She always says ‘Listen,’ because she thinks while she talks — really thinks.) So she said: ‘Listen. Suppose this wasn’t a crack in you — suppose it was a crack in the Grand Canyon.'”

“’The crack’s in me,’ I said heroically.”

“’Listen! The world only exists in your eyes — your conception of it. You can make it as big or as small as you want to. And you’re trying to be a little puny individual. By God, if I ever cracked, I’d try to make the world crack with me. Listen! The world only exists through your apprehension of it, and so it’s much better to say that it’s not you that’s cracked — it’s the Grand Canyon.’”

“’Baby et up all her Spinoza?’”

“’I don’t know anything about Spinoza. I know — ‘ She spoke, then, of old woes of her own, that seemed, in telling, to have been more dolorous than mine, and how she had met them, overridden them, beaten them.”

Prospect, at Dusk, of Mount Stenhouse (Shan Teng Tong) from Queen Mary Hospital, 5 September 2012

Listen!

Portrait of my son & grand-daughters

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on August 20, 2012 by spinoza1111

Edward G. Nilges, “Portrait of the Artist’s Son and Grand-daughters”

I received a photograph from a family member but my request to my son for permission to post it has gone unanswered. I’d resolved to let my son control the amount of involvement I am to have with this joyous event since I left his Mom when he was little (but was a caring and responsible non-custodial parent).

Therefore to honor my commitment to my son yet celebrate the blessed event I hatched a cunning plan. I have made a pencil sketch after the photo as above.

Art is seeing something without illusions. First of all my son’s eyes are so damned large, like his Mom’s, that they violate the art skewl rule that the iris should fill the eye and the “whites” not go under the iris. Second is I don’t know why he’s wearing a hoodie in August I thought there was a heat wave. Sure he doesn’t fetish the hoodie and I insisted on wearing a lined jean jacket in the summer of 1967.

Surely he could get a nice Brooks Brother’s shirt? Ha ha. Hey, I’m just the father. The hoodie is fine. But don’t get me started on Guy Fawkes masks. We must not be afraid as young men are to show our faces, and there’s a creepy if buried insistence in that idiotic mask that we all be white males. I should have thought that we want the rich to know that we are a rainbow that is unified but what the hell do I know?

Third is the nose. When I had the children with me at Princeton my waggish coworker said he’d seen them and knew they were mine because of the nose. It has a real structure which has to be brought out.

I can only scratchily suggest the babies. They are not yet beautiful in the conventional sense they are rather like little boiled things. But I find them moving all the same. Babies don’t come into this world raring to go, they want to sleep away the trauma of birth, their little eyes shut and their mouths set in rage after having to come crying hither…as if we did them no favor.

But to me they are incredibly moving so I draw symbols of them and Peter’s hand to protect them. The symbols are like Buddha because babies retain much of the character of the soul of the world after they are born.

Nyah ha ha: cue Dr Evil laugh. I hope my son doesn’t get angry with me. We so judge our fathers. Me, I got tired of being bitch slapped around as I was by my father whenever I crossed his very well defined boundaries and it looks like I’m getting this shit from the other end today. Why I don’t know. Maybe I was a truly awful father and a Bad Son.

Art has got to be OK. I understand the transgression of photography. I have no right. But I took responsibility here for my relationship with my son as Cezanne did with his son. There are differences between the photo and this drawing. In the photo Peter’s glance is veiled and mistrustful and a bit cheeky and know-it-all you ask me. In the drawing I naturally make him connect for that’s what my subjects do.

It’s as if I am trying to remake the family through art and undo what I did as an absent father. But wait. Can a person be blamed for trying to clean up a mess he made? In some families the answer is yes. Wives no longer wish to hear tender words from husbands when the last tender words were always followed by blows later on. But they stay together and watch TV and save for retirement, oh, five thousand bucks or so.

Well that is all I can do for now. NOTE: do not tell me to calm down and forget all this that is schone undt treue undt gute. I defy the motto of damaged existence that we no longer deserve Shakespeare and what Allen Ginsberg called the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit.

Parody Mass

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on July 18, 2012 by spinoza1111

Edward G. Nilges, “Kundry, Whom None Could Call Fair”, pencil, ink, computer manipulation, 2005

Listen!

6.431
Wie auch beim Tod die Welt sich nicht ändert, sondern aufhört.
6.4311
Der Tod ist kein Ereignis des Lebens. Den Tod erlebt man nicht.
Wenn man unter Ewigkeit nicht unendliche Zeitdauer, sondern Unzeitlichkeit versteht, dann lebt der ewig, der in der Gegenwart lebt.
Unser Leben ist ebenso endlos, wie unser Gesichtsfeld grenzenlos ist.
6.4312
Die zeitliche Unsterblichkeit der Seele des Menschen, das heißt also ihr ewiges Fortleben auch nach dem Tode, ist nicht nur auf keine Weise verbürgt, sondern vor allem leistet diese Annahme gar nicht das, was man immer mit ihr erreichen wollte. Wird denn dadurch ein Rätsel gelöst, dass ich ewig fortlebe? Ist denn dieses ewige Leben dann nicht ebenso rätselhaft wie das gegenwärtige? Die Lösung des Rätsels des Lebens in Raum und Zeit liegt außerhalb von Raum und Zeit.

I oughta endow a monastery just for being able to walk without pain
From now on in
Straight on until Morning
The whole deal is maintaining an even strain:
Light on the horizon surrounding us in the cold clean air
Neah Point beckoning lights of La Push.

Workout Log 9 July 2012

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on July 9, 2012 by spinoza1111

20 minute swimming and water dancing at Hung Shing Yeh beach on another beautiful morning. These mornings just drop from the sky onto us “by the will and permission of all-ruling Heaven”.

Edward G. Nilges, “State of Cartoon for ‘Whether Peter’s Crazy Teacher Teaches Us Gym or Mathematics, Peter’s Crazy Teacher Admonishes Us, and Teaches Us the Way of All Things’ as of 9 July 2012″, charcoal, 60×40 cm. Copyright 2012 by Edward G. Nilges. Moral Rights asserted.

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