heystasa: (H50 enjoytheride)
You know what's wonderful?

When you find yourself inexplicably awake at some stupid hour, too tired to get up and go to bed and knowing you'll suffer for it tomorrow, TV on ABC3 in the background because they play music after the programing has ended for the day and you like the noise, even if you're not really listening to it - when suddenly you hear a familiar guitar riff, one that strikes deep down in your bones. And you realise that it's one of your favourite songs, by one of your favourite artists; one that so few people have even heard of, and a song that you're not even sure was ever released as a single.

And it's like the universe is sending you a little note. Here's a lullaby, kid, just for you. Isn't Tex the best? Now go to bed while you're happy and warm and full of love; everything is beautiful. You'll feel better in the morning.


(Not the best video, but here's the song)

heystasa: (Default)
There are an awful lot of breathtakingly beautiful things in the world, some of which even appear on the internet. I've followed a few links to some utterly wonderful things recently, so I thought I'd collect and share.

This was originally linked by... [personal profile] colour_me_troll, I think, (it was during a period where I was mostly only glancing at my flist), and should be just sat and watched, in full screen, because honestly it's just -- breathtaking. Beautiful, amazing. I'd never heard of this type of art before. It's like instant animation. You watch a million pieces of art being made one after the other slowly revealing a narrative, piece by piece. Like a place located somewhere between traditional art and the new and always in motion form of film.

And [livejournal.com profile] glitterfairy25  linked this short film today. According to this site, it's all hand drawn, only planned on a computer, all on the same spot of concrete. I can't even imagine how much work it must have taken, given the extreme precision of the detail. It's quirky and creative and colourful, and completely incredible.

That post prompted [livejournal.com profile] irishmagik7  to reply with this. A very similar concept to the Coldplay video - both are stop motion - but executed quite differently (and I'm a little in love with this song). According to this site, 3225 stills were used to make up the clip. It's gentle, and whimsical, and sort of timeless. It's elegant and clean, and the actions it imitates are so simple, so basic, and the girl, with that hair and that costume - like she's walked straight out of a Renaissance painting, is as much a part if the art as the composition itself - it's all so beautiful and sort of otherworldly in its simplicity. And the little details that jump out, like how her hair moves over her face when she's underwater, but not when she's in the wind. And it fits the song perfectly.

heystasa: (Beauty and the Beast)
For all that flights of fancy and imagination are wonderful, I find there is just as much wonder in reality. The mind is the source of all that fancy, and that is just such a beautiful thing. 

I learnt last night about cave paintings, that they were the pinning down of visions had in trances. That every human, no matter where from, since the begining of the species, experiences the same basic internal images when in a trace state, or when suffering sensory deprivation. The human brain just throws them up, always the same. So in caves and on rocks, worlds apart from oneanother, the same patterning appears. And if we close our eyes for long enough, and expose them to the right outside stimuli, we can see the exact same images that people saw tens of thousands of years ago. 

To see those paintings, and to know that they were painted so long ago, before buildings and farming and the idea of 'art', and to see how beautiful they were, how spiritual and otherworldly - it inspired such awe. 

The world - nature, animals, plants, flowers, water, rocks, weather, the sun, the moon, the light they bring - it's all so incredible, so simply beautiful and so there. And the brain, and all it has created, is just the same. Is part of that basic, fundamental reality of the world. There really is so much harmony in life. I will never cease to be amazed. 

And all the beauty we can make, all the places, the art, the literature, the poetry, the sentiment, the emotion, all of that, just takes may breath away sometimes. The brain gives us all that. The ability to create it and the ability to appreciate it. To feel it and to be it. 

It's fascinating. 

I love art, and I love psychology, and really, they are much the same thing. I tend to call this type of writing that I do sometimes whimsy, to say that I drift off into flights of fancy. But that's not entirely appropriate - what could be more grounded in reality than what my own brain generates? Whether I'm happy or depressed, excited or anxious, mad or sane, it's all happening. It's all maluable, it can change, but it is there. We can't see it, but we can feel it, which is undeniable proof that something is happening.

My mind is my own, only ever for me. But the brain is universal. But for a few quirks, this incredibly complex organ is the same in every living person in the world. And even some of the quirks are almost identical to those of others. 

Sometimes, sometimes it all just hits me, you know? For all my rationality and talk of science, and for all I may experience incredible pain from what my brain and the world comes up with sometimes, I just can't quite help but be awestuck by it from time to time. 

Life is astounding.

heystasa: (Default)
Oh, I long to be a 1940s film star. To speak in that old accent that is so refined, so warm, and so still touched with that genteel, almost English inflection. And, when it were required, to sing in a smoky voice, the piano and strings weaving together with it to make such a feeling of romance and magic. And if I had to dance, to dance in the most beautiful dress.

All class and dignity and mystery. Skin smooth, hair all soft and shapen, eyes glistening in the moonlight or lamplight or, well, in no light at all. A glass of somethin' balanced between two fingers of one hand, a cigarette between two in the other. Wrapped in fur, or diamonds, something that sparkles or shimmers, shines in the blacks, whites and greys. When I'd speak it'd be in that voice, low and wonderful and almost tangible - never simpering or small, but sultry, carrying in it a real sense of strength and style. I'd ask for a light. Always almost over my shoulder, eyes inclined slightly upwards, because all the men are slightly taller, and all so dashing. 

But so few of them are decent. They give a girl a romance and promises of forever, but none of them ever stay. They never last in the end.

They make their romantic gestures, all of them, but one can't rely on them for a happily ever after. Mister Bogart skulks in the shadows, sweet little Jimmy Dean pouts and dares and looks oh so divine, oh so desperate and oh, so devastating. But he, he was never too concerned with winning the heart of a young lady. Far to much turbulance for room to romance. And Marlon Brando, well, Mister Brando is handsome, and strong, and very, unmissibly masculine - but he's a brute. Unpredictable and raging, he's all fiery tempers and cold, cold shoulders, all unfathomable and all screaming my name from the ground below as if it's the only thing keeping him alive. The only thing that's keeping his mind from falling to pieces and his body from tearing the world apart.

My mother has promised Gregory Peck next. She says he isn't beautiful, but is a prescence. Is tall and imposing, and is decent. That'd be nice. A decent man to hang some faith on. A girl needs something to put her faith in. Men don't often stand the test. Seems to me that, in the end, she ends up with only herself to rely on, only herself to get her by. Leaving her to depend more on strangers than those she knows. The men never really get them anywhere, but there is some sweet, sweet music playing along the way. And in the end, when the alley is empty and the players have walked off alone into the fog, there's music and magic and bleakness to break your heart and punch your guts. And, if not that, the full, sweet voices at least linger on; their permanance giving some small sense of solace.

But we know it's how it's meant to be. There's always a sad, strange justice in there somewhere, as frustrating as it is to not be able to change the things that would be so much easier to change now. To be the woman, strong and sturdy but with so little control of the world, in love with the man, who has only that tiny bit more. To have so much more than that on her plate that the camera can't quite penetrate, and that she never really says. The story will always be linear, set in stone. With the obligations and duty, the status and propriety, and the circumstances that are so very out of our control, all we can do is throw our whole hearts in, little by little, and hope that things will turn out for the best.

Why? Well, because. Because, altogether, oh, altogether it's all just so wonderful.

August 2012

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