Measuring temperature with hand on one’s forehead for a minute. It tells me something. How accurate it is if my head is hot and my hand is cold.

What to do on green grass?
Roll over light optimism as expected, as taken for granted
light of optimism the night of when I am interested in the light of the truth that lying on grass brings: Truth a carefully weight bearable word to be carried
not more nor less, new grass, always new and fresh, tended similarly everywhere
word no more no less, grass, color of it does something to your mind.

 

Meaning of struggle

There must be a meaning, but to find a meaning and a life does not mean struggle is the only way. That it is the only thing to make us grow and understand the meaning of living, ways of doing and existing. Yes to see effort, pain and work to accomplish and have something I think is essential, it is unavoidable when making something lasting and worth while. It does not mean that via struggle and constant battle we should find our path. There are those who make it even through the toughest most difficult things imaginable. Then there are the most who maybe barely make their living, for whom every day is a fight to survive.
This is exactly the equation I do not comprehend, the amount of wealth, amount of extremely wealthy people and how much they own, how well this wealth benefits society, how wealthy nations over and over like to see that survival of the fittest is a good way to make politics, tend people’s businesses, affairs and lives. Money that there is does not benefit those who need it most and that is children. Education, health care, security, future prospects that look hazy and dim seem to be in many countries somewhat a similar kind of mess that continue to be unsolved. Yes we like hero stories and survivors, but I’d rather see much wiser heroic deeds done by politicians, people who decide how nations are run. If it is them who run countries. Those who take money from education and health care will keep this situation of struggle on going.

 

Wanna see my teeth?

 

This is my gun. I wish it was bigger. Experiment number 4.

instant bench

Society is afraid of loners, loners that it makes. They are seen as losers as we are divided into winners and losers. What is there to win depends on what we appreciate.

When you bully someone and that someone attacks you, it probably was not what you expected was it. I encourage people to learn to defend themselves. When somebody hits me, I hit back and it very possibly hurts. Still it is not to take a life as bullies want to do themselves. They are the extreme violators and in need of help.

Experiment number 3

Tired of confronting thrown dirty cloths of yours. I am tired of cleaning man-made deserts. I need you to have to face and own completely, entirely what you make.

Sky of sky, sky of flight, sky of space, pressure and cold, sky without breath, sky of layers that we invade, our particles of What is that?
I want to say emptiness, but it is anything but, there are full clouds until they collide, the contradictions entwined in black night coming down
blackest and lilac space part of it open. That I am thankful for this lack of artificial light.
Circling sensations of being small, insignificant, breathing when I would like to hold my breath, tired of this work, not seeing anything but that above
anything worth seeing, anything worth sensing

Rubberbands on wall, untitled, 2012

Untitled, kuminauhat ja naulat/rubberbands and nails, 2011

Majakulttuurin tutkimus- ja keräysprojekti

Tarkoituksena on saada aikaan aktiivinen ja interaktiivinen lasten omaehtoisen kulttuurin kokoelma, kuvia majoista, suunnitelmista, tekemisestä ja ideoista. Kokonaiskuva kuin itsestään rakentuvasta kulttuurista suomalaisissa metsissä ja lähiöissä. Lähtökohtana on, että lapset itse myös kuvaavat majansa ja kenties kertovat niistä. Aikuisia ei täysin suljeta ulkopuolelle, joten kaikenikäiset ovat tervetulleita ottamaan osaa. Kuvia voi ottaa puhelimella, järjestelmäkameralla ja majasta voi lähettää skannatun piirustuksen. Jos haluaa tehdä majavideon sivustolle se olisi mahtavaa! Jos on olemassa majamusiikkia senkin voi virtuaalisille ilmoille kajauttaa. Täytyy muistaa, ettei kyse ole suorituksesta tai voittamisesta jossakin paremmuudessa vaan leikistä, keksimisestä, mielikuvitusmaailman mallintamisesta ja jakamisesta.

Projektin luonne on arkistomainen ja tallentava, mutta myös orgaaninen eli jos syntyy omia nettisivuja tai projekteja aiheeseen liittyen niin hyvä. Samalla se on oppimisprojekti kuinka kuvata maja, joka usein on metsän siimeksessä, ryhmätyön tulos ja vaikeasti hahmotettavissa. Mitä kuvassa näkyy ja mitä täytyy rajata pois. Mitä kuva kertoo, sen on tarkoitus kertoa? Millainen on hyvä ja mielenkiintoinen valo? Kuinka tehdä näkymättömästä näkyvä? Ja tietenkin antaa arvoa lasten loputtomalle luovuudelle ja innovatiivisuudelle sekä pohtia mitä majat ovat ja mistä ne syntyvät. Lisäksi vielä, onko tarpeen pohtia majan tarkoitusta, onko sen kuvitteellinen ja leikillinen tarkoitus sen määrä ja anti ja viekö liika pohtiminen asiasta jotakin tärkeää pois.

Tämä on yleishyödyllinen ja kokeellinen projekti. Kuten jo mainittu pääosassa ovat lapset ja heidän ideansa. Kiinnostavaa olisi kuulla mitä lapset itse ajattelevat majoja tehdessään, kuinka ne syntyvät ja mitä majoille tapahtuu, kuinka leikki sopii yhteen nykyhetken kanssa eli kuinka moderni maailma tulee mukaan leikkiin ja lasten ajatuksiin.

siouxhie@gmail.com

 

Annie is dead. Got bullet in her head. A golden goose flew out the window when they found the body. Bulging the blood-filled balloon.

Annie is dead. Got bullet in her head. A golden goose flew out the window when they found the body. Bulging the blood-filled balloon. Let the bastard chase your mental and physical collapse in this world that has no idea how many days and nights the world shakes shakes shakes, under constant ambience like aneurism,
like an animal waiting unexpectedly in your brain like somebody else
without proof of having seen it but felt it. Having been told it might be there. That there is a possibility of it killing you, that it killed you, an unknown object.
Respect the funeral ride of silent black emptying sorrow before the x-ray light.
Sorrow that bursted, till erupted the cortége before us on the walkway oily pavement like new
that there is lack like never before.