Misc. Meta Mullings + Meme Dump

It seems all I’m good for is making stupid silly little pictures when war is raging, while the planet is being poisoned & plundered, I’m not helping, and everything can feel so helpless. Maybe it’s the buffer zone against reality as it continues to etch away at the edges of awareness, slowly dawning on the buried periphery of the subconscious. More nuggets below the fold.

So even after the habitual sketchbook sessions in actively trying to come up with ideas for new panels, there is some leakage into real life and random thoughts will come straight outta nowhere right in the middle of completely unrelated activities and if you aren’t already trained to stop everything and write it down it’ll go as quickly as it came.

Poof, other than the nagging suspicion that you just had yet another great idea but can’t remember what it was about. I’ve heard it’s somewhat similar to recalling dreams, as is the “waking dream” trance when one is glazed over seeing something that only you can see while sitting at the table or behind a wheel (and here you thought texting while driving is bad).

The dissociative leaps up and down the mental Jacob’s Ladder before falling asleep (often confused with the subtly similar random connections made while under the influence) is a window into this creative process. Sometimes I’ll drop out and do a little art trance: might look like I’m zoned out out but I can still see things clear as day right there in front of me.

But this ties into another observation I’ve been focused on as of late. I applied to another grant and tried to come up with yet another academic way to basically say that I would use the funds to create more art. That time to create is incalculably invaluable, but not seen as legitimate amongst the rules of responsibility. It’s the difference between people who were brought up believing the lie that they aren’t capable of creating – “oh I’m not an artist” – they simply weren’t afforded the opportunity to indulge in such activities.

Otherwise the opposite habit will become reinforced, and the 9-5 job will slowly anesthetize your awareness and you slip farther away from realizing anything above and beyond the Task at Hand, and instinctively ignore ideas, stop listening to yourself, as opposed to letting it derail everything while you obsess about another flash of insight. How many theoretical Picassos and Da Vinci’s were forever abandoned, lost to the demands of industry and production and menial labor.

It’s just like training yourself to mentally check out and wander after any idea that crosses your imaginary path regardless of any rabbit holes – allowing yourself the unbridled opportunity to chase after inspiration is truly a precious gift, and can be detrimental to the stability of one’s life and the demands of being a grown-up.

And it speaks to the elitist allocation of such inner resources when consumerism and work ethic dictates we must put aside such foolish and idle fantasy and instead pay bills, feed the family, keep up with the proverbial Joneses etc. Daydreaming is ground out of you at a young age when you are programmed in school and home to focus on serious things, like The Job.

So all of this musing occurred after I just-so happened to have an idea while engaged in something unrelated and I spun off the wheel and not only sketched it out, I wrote about why and what happened afterwards.

Doesn’t happen a lot, but when it does, I am reminded that there is a darn good reason why I meticulously doodle everything out first in the omnipresent sketchbook: every so often I come across a penciled-out panel which I just cannot begin to decipher exactly what the heck I was thinking about when I first sketched it. No matter how long I sit and stare at it, it’s just meaningless hieroglyphics. Why is it that every time I forget a great concept, I can only remember that I had an idea really funny cartoon and that’s it.