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Lorna Mills and Sally McKay
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Perception of perception report by Joe McKay
According to Donald Hoffman, our vision does not accurately describe the world at all. In fact it constantly lies to us so we can eat and have sex before we die. Why should our vision be excluded from Darwinian evolution? Donald had a host of wacky optical illusions to show us, but also the science chops to back em up. Plus he used an overhead projector to show stuff not a data beamer so we would not think it was a trick.
Also awesome was Norman Klein, who showed us a fly through his new graphic novel "The Imaginary 20th Century" made from culling images from days of yore. I'm not sure the book will be better than his impromptu performance was, but then again who knows.
The second day of the event was held at the Velaslavasay Panorama where we got to have a preview of the upcoming exhibit. The panorama has that kind of effect on your body and mind that makes you say "duuuuude" as soon as you climb in to the room even if you've sworn off saying "duuuude" because you're well into your late 30's and enough's enough already. It really is sweet [d'oh!].
Lastly, here's an image meant to illustrate how change blindness works. I'm not sure how exactly, but I'm pretty confident that I see a bunny. How this makes me A. have more sex or B. live longer is none of your business.
Over the past few weeks, L.M. and I have been posting some lovely mature juicey finished artworks by artists we admire. I decided to break it up with some raw scratchy half-baked drawings from my own sketchbook...
space/time cat water balloons
right/left brain owl
spread inspired by Miyazaki movies and a novel by Iain M. Banks
| Who do you like better, Shakespeare (thanks Bill) or Doctor Seuss? | |
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O hell! what have we here? A carrion Death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold. Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscroll'd: Fare you well; your suit is cold. Cold, indeed; and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. |
My hat is old. My teeth are gold. I have a bird I like to hold. My shoe is off. My foot is cold. My shoe is off. My foot is cold. I have a bird I liked to hold. My hat is old. My teeth are gold. And now my story is all told. |