WAS PICASSO A LAZY GENIUS?
Ok...let's get this out of the way, I love MOST of Picasso's work. From "Child with a Dove" to "Guernica"...still hits a spot in my gut. But, regardless of the emotion I feel beholding his abstract visions, I am always left wanting more. As if...there's a missing masterpiece somewhere, a gift that ol' Pablo COULD HAVE given the world...but held back on.
As the 19th century rolled along, the world experienced a TON of changes. The invention of the camera was one, but also, the availability of drugs like marijuana, opium, and absinth. And together with portable easels, RTU paint, flattened brush heads, and the STEAM TRAIN...they pushed traditional artistic flair into different inclinations. No longer was it necessary to sit in a studio, mixing powdered pigments to paint a realistic representation of some wealthy merchant or a Christian fantasy. Any artist could pick up his paints, and jump a train to search out inspiration for half the day.
Perspectives EVOLVED, as Van Gogh, Monet, Degas, Matisse and the gang, bled heart and soul on to a canvas, to lead us ALL into a more open interpretation of the world. Paintings began to JUMP off the canvas at viewers...or seduce them into a scene, only to twist their minds and induce fiery reactions.
Into this world of change was a small, big eyed boy, who picked up his father's pencil. Much like Mozart, Pablo's FATHER realized very quickly that his son was a prodigy. And he began to teach him his own art techniques at a young age. The MYTH we've all heard is that Pablo's FIRST and LAST word was "Pencil"....or Lapiz.... (Spanish for pencil). IF TRUE, the word served almost as book ends to encompass his artistic life. And crammed in between these book ends...is what I think to be one of the more subtle displays of flex in the art world.
Not for the 60 paintings he created in a single month for his first exhibit. Not for his ground breaking Les Demoiselles d'Avignon
Not Cubism.
Not Guernica. And NOT for creating public debates about his ingenuity, which STILL take place in front of his paintings. But look over his work on the time line of his life...and you'll see it. Lay out his 10,000+ works of art in a straight line...they'll speak the truth.
At the age of 15 he could paint on par with the masters....and at 91, the end of his life,...he was scribbling with color crayons...the message is clear....my missing masterpiece! Over the course of Picasso's life...entwined with ALL his adventurous, bold, and offensive living...is the subtext of his genius...
"Look...I did this shit BACKWARDS!"
Twiddle
THE SMELL OF SKA
So, growing up in the 80's...Los Angeles... Punk, New Wave, Mod's, Rockers, Goth, Preps, Stoners, Head Bangers (people who listened to Heavy Metal), Skin Heads (not racist at that time), Rude Boys, and SKA! Hip Hop was on the rise, but had not yet taken over the ENTIRE music industry.
There I am, right in the middle of it all, KROQ was a hole in the wall radio station in Pasadena, and MTV was the new diverse musical outlet. Diverse so long as it was new and cool...this gave the older, established bands quiet a challenge. In retrospect in was interesting to watch the old Hippies try and re-invent themselves. Some pulled this off...others did not. The Rolling Stones, of course, just kept rolling along being themselves mostly. They didn't seem to give a f'ck...and neither did anyone else. Stones is Stones...even if they will never match the Beatles. 200 years from now, music remembered from that era will likely be Bob Dylan, David Bowie, ALL of Motown and THE BEATLES. Time will tell.
But the 80's belonged to the new and exciting...reaganomics, crazy artists, teenage rebellion (new version), cocaine, the gay community coming out...and MASH was the biggest show on TV, soon to give way to Cheers.
But for me and my friends, the 80's began with the discovery of Ska music. Before I ever heard Bob Marley pulsing away with his magnetic reggae...I heard AND saw The Specials performing "A Message to you Rudy"...I laughed at them at first...but then I listened again.
If you were into Ska at that time...in that place...you were welcomed anywhere! Punk Rockers respected you...Head Bangers would smoke pot with you, goth girls would crush on you...and you could skank your way through any dance floor, or just hang back and be cooler than everyone else. Because EVERYONE knew you danced... everyone knew you were ska.
BUT...did you have a scooter? Vespa or Lambretta?...Both were such an iconic Mod symbol of style...even Punk Rockers wanted one. Me and my friends...sadly...did not have one among us. But the sound of one coming down the street would inspire dreamy conversations and committed plans, as we watched it smoothly roll along its way...carrying it's rider to unknown excitement. Entire rallies would form around the ownership of these two wheeled, not quite motorcycle, statements of elegance and good taste. I remember watching 200 or so scooters ride down Green Street in Pasadena...ignoring red lights, entirely owning the road as police were impudent to do anything about it. "Yeah, thats for me", I thought.
Early one morning...ditching school with my friend Mike...we rode the bus into downtown and did some thrift shopping...where the coolest clothes could be purchased for $2 or $3...saving money for the precious dime bag of weed and lunch. Wet mist in the air...the smell of the thrift shop still on my freshly purchased - vintage cardigan sweater...flat top hair cuts...we saw it. The Vespa scooter showroom... Faces pressed against the window, ska pulsating in our brains and blood...visions of ourselves in trench coats cruising to the club. We schemed the future purchase for the objects of our desire...KNOWING it would be soon. Something in the smell of the air that day stuck with me...damp overcast weather, mixed with the aromatic thrift shop on my sweater...and gasoline. I got a job, and started saving...so did Mike.
New to the working world, Mike lost his job forgetting to come into his second shift, but not me, I was committed. I worked and saved for a couple months, barley enough for a down payment...then randomly...one day...I stumbled into the Honda showroom in Pasadena...Foothill Blvd...and saw a Honda Passport. No Vespa mind you...but still...hmmm...affordable. I could be riding this thing within the hour...hmmm...I should wait. A salesman noticed me lingering...and I was stuck. I never had to face a salesman like that before...and I rode that thing home about an hour later, KNOWING I had made the right decision...
Well...I couldn't be seen riding a Honda Passport while sporting my SKA attire...the ridicule would fall like rain from the sky! So, I slapped a U2 sticker on the front...started wearing flannels and jeans...and began the next phase of my adolescence. And I never looked back. Ok...thats a lie...I did look back. Proud to have urban mobility...but ashamed it wasn't a Vespa. Still to this day, I occasionally smell... in the early morning air...mist, thrift shop, and gasoline...and it all comes racing back...the smell of ska.
I wonder...is it too late to knock that one off my bucket list?
Twiddle
It is the near future, and planet Earth is overpopulated. Our collective governments, in tandem with the Space Federation of the known galaxies have agreed to an enigmatic social program to fund the free range release of the human race.
Whether asshole or snowflake, ALL are welcome to a complete star map of nearby wormholes and a variety of designs for personalized space craft. Families and friends are encouraged to build a rocket ship and get the hell outta here!
Nano tech has made it possible to simply inject a serum into existing materials and literally GROW the space craft of your choice, complete with your own navigational AI.
Many are choosing to simply turn their houses and cars into the reality of interstellar travel as they host rocket reveal parties. Toasting drinks and eating barbecue, they celebrate as their homes slowly morph into sleek, stylized space ships, formally only operated by visiting aliens.
The commander of the Space Federation, together with a panel of human leaders, is about to commemorate the televised launch of the program.
"Tap, tap." He fingers the microphone before a silent and anxious world...
"People of Earth!"
(A rushing wind blows across the surface of our planet, as 10 billion people inhale simultaneously.)
"LOng have we watched you and aided in your survival. We have both guided your steps and painstakingly tried not to interfere. Yet the time has come...graduation day has arrived at LAST! YOu are free.
Not so much because you have grown wise, and are EAGERLY awaited in the council of the stars. NO!
Not so much because you have anything specific to bring to the intergalactic table.
Except this one...little...thing...
And God help us all, but we can not seem to put a finger on the essence of your gift.
HOWEVER...be that as it may...you are released from your interplanetary, solitary confinement, to bring what you may to your neighboring worlds. We can hold you back no longer. You have simply become TOO EXPENSIVE!
We will no longer protect you from your predators, of which there are many. Nor shall we hold YOU back from them...
But, ready or not, you are declared a mature species, and all who are willing are free to go. What you claim is yours and your children's children.
May we all find God in the end."
"BOOM!" Thunderous applause erupt across the globe, shaking the foundations of our evolution.
"There's just one...little...thing." he says as the applause fade into fluttering butterflies.
"This GIFT you possess. Nowhere else is it found in the known universe. NO ONE ELSE HAS IT, and we can barely describe what EXACTLY it is. Therefore... neither US nor YOU can say for sure if you will either possess it, lose it, or develop it further once you leave this planet. For none can say HOW well it is rooted to Earth itself.
So act nicely to your mother, and give her a gentle kiss before you go. She has been patient beyond any kindness we know of, and she wants to be proud of you."
Peace Y'all,
Twiddle
The Great Earth Exodus
Why Was Sir Isaac Newton Such an Asshole?
The father of modern science died a virgin. For all his pure genius in dissecting the laws of nature, one mystery he left unexplored...that of love. I sometimes find it ironic, that his famous apple story lacks a seductive Eve to tempt him into knowledge. Perhaps if Newton had been in Adam’s place, he would have refused that damn apple, and left us all in paradise. 🥰
Whether the apple really fell on his head or not, I think, is a silly debate. Clearly the universe threw him a clue and got him going in the right direction, enabling him to open up the treasure chest of knowledge, and basically get the modern world going.
Yet even great genius is flawed.
“Isaac Newton was not a pleasant man.” Stephen Hawking wrote in “Brief History of Time.” Highlighting many of Newton’s misdeeds, Hawking then gives a quick summary on the vile side of Newton’s genius. Everything from obliterating scientific opponents, to having men hung at the gallows for the light crime of “coin clipping.”
His vindictiveness is as legendary and well documented, as his accomplishments. His publication of Principia Mathematica is still considered the most groundbreaking work in physics. And the mere fact that he faced scientific ridicule to prove that light was made up from all the different colors, 🌈 shows stead fast integrity for the truth of things. It would take the scientific community years to catch up...meanwhile he locked himself away, sketching out the elements of the natural world, shunning the need for approval from his peers.
Yet in the success he found after publishing Principia, he was a complete jerk. Not a benevolent man, he seems to have felt vindication in his enormous gifts to humanity. Using his fame and power to stomp on any opposition.
Great genius comes at a price they say...and we can see this in others as well. Nikola Tesla also chose to abstain from romantic attachments...feeling it would take him away from his work. Leonardo da Vinci seems to have lead the secret life of a homosexual. And who could blame him? Sodomy was often punishable by death in his time. Van Gogh lived a tortured life...wanting the love of women, but simply not being good at attracting any. While his friend Gauguin fornicated enough for both of them.
I think to find examples of happy and successful genius’s...we need look no further than good ol’ Ben Franklin and Albert Einstein. Both enjoyed the company of a witty gal...clothes on or off...didn’t matter. Einstein even rumored to have dated Marilyn Monroe...though it’s never been proven. But they also enjoyed a full life pursuing all types of different interests and hobbies. Reading about them makes them seem sorta happy or jolly at times. But Sir Isaac Newton, the great polymath, has only two documented instances of laughter, first time being in response to a friend saying “What’s the point in studying Euclid?”
These lives we’ve read about, and the ones we haven’t, they echo through time, bouncing and radiating through us...
Somewhere in the dreamy vortex of time,⏳ Sir Isaac Newton is scribbling out the answers to life’s biggest questions...frustrated and alone...he grumbles over his papers. And the universe attempts, yet again, to get his attention with an apple. Suddenly Ol’ Ben and Albert are in the room, standing behind him. Ben puts his hand on Newton’s shoulder as Albert says, “Come on Isaac, you got to relax. Cut loose once in a while.”
There is a knock on the door. Ben and Albert look at each other and kinda giggle. Newton gets up to answer the door, and there stands Cleopatra, in all her glory...holding an apple 🍎. She smiles and offers up the old forbidden fruit. “Well hello there Isaac. I hear that you are VERY smart.”
Next day...Sir Isaac Newton didn’t find it quite so necessary to send men to the gallows.
Peace y’all,
Twiddle
