MISSION THREE... THE OUTCOMES (...of all that)?
This mission has only just begun... it remains ill-defined as to what form it might take... essays, images, or simply more blither blather...

The most insidious of the three missions begins • He ventures out with no meaning at all; hopefull to find a glorious... nothing • perfect... so far • FIRST WARNING: this mission offers the distinct possibility of becoming weepy and sentimental, it is afterall an exploration of WHY I came up with these silly ideas some 35 years ago; WHY I'm re-tackling  them now, AND what has transpired over these last 35 years that has prompted the changes to the final look n' feel n' meaning  to these things • SECOND WARNING: IT IS A WORK in PROGRESS... PROGRESS being the end game... it may never be finished... Do NOT invest in any expectation on how this may all turn out. • THIRD WARNING: Beware the lull. From time to time we may experience flurried rushes of activity, don't let this make you feel the need to keep coming back... as... no doubt there will be stretches that leave it all feeling abandoned... we've other stories of the stinking ego to tell and ARTISTS to ARM... forecast calls for fits and starts...
JUNE 23 - I've an inkling of an idea of how to present this mission (finally) - let's wait and see.
Let's start MISSION THREE with inspirations why don't we... and, we'll start with the things I was most  likely suffering from or, er... finding inspirational... a way back.... back prior to and at the zenith, the Halcyon Days of this Ancient Art Career.
...what makes little boys tick? More so, what makes little boy-wanna-be architects tick? Who turns on the kids growing up between the bay and the cow pastures? • Did I really like this shit, or did it simply suit my need to be a little different than the jocko-boys and future engineering students I knew I'd never be (couldn't be)?
...and, what of motives discovered at mere puberty? Over all these years... refined? rationalized? When she held your drawings up to the class, you felt... joy? pride? validation? • What drug released... why were you quietly embarrassed? Weren't you? I was... 
When I was a boy... I wanted to be an architect, I wanted to build big things, buildings and stadiums (and really cool houses)... When that dream vanished (a long story of leaving one's ego in the hands of a child's mind)... I settled for Art School. I just walked in. Barely noticing how crushed those who were denied this... all they'd ever wanted... perhaps guilt, refined after all these years? Indeed... what of motives discovered at mere... puberty?
APR 28 ...I found, was given a new art studio last night. Only a few thousand sq ft larger, but... it's not rented, it's my own. Rather than tape... I can beat the living crap outta this puppy... We're settling in nicely :-)
...and don't for a moment think we didn't notice, more...
...bloody chairs
MAY 10 I've a sneaking suspicion we're going to be stuck on the topic of inspiration for some time yet. It would appear that this is the only thing that is driving this whole thing forward... for now.

submission A: Ancient Inspirations (part one)

The importance of looking earnest & heroic... (there are many more they will appear, maybe along with a woman or two)
Anywhere Out of the World
by Charles Baudelaire

Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window. 

It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul. 

"Tell my, my soul, poor chilly soul, how would you like to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you would be as blissful as a lizard in the sun. It is a city by the sea; they say that it is built of marble, and that its inhabitants have such a horror of the vegetable kingdom that they tear up all the trees. You see it is a country after my own heart; a country entirely made of mineral and light, and with liquid to reflect them." 

My soul does not reply. 

"Since you are so fond of being motionless and watching the pageantry of movement, would you like to live in the beatific land of Holland? Perhaps you could enjoy yourself in that country which you have so long admired in paintings on museum walls. What do you say to Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships that are moored on the doorsteps of houses?" 

My soul remains silent. 

"Perhaps you would like Batavia better? There, moreover, we should find the wit of Europe wedded to the beauty of the tropics." 

Not a word. Can my soul be dead? 

"Have you sunk into so deep a stupor that you are happy only in your unhappiness? If that is the case, let us fly to countries that are the counterfeits of Death. I know just the place for us, poor soul. We will pack up our trunks for Torneo. We will go still farther, to the farthest end of the Baltic Sea; still farther from life if possible; we will settle at the Pole. There the sun only obliquely grazes the earth, and the slow alternations of daylight and night abolish variety and increase that other half of nothingness, monotony. There we can take deep baths of darkness, while sometimes for our entertainment, the Aurora Borealis will shoot up its rose-red sheafs like the reflections of the fireworks of hell!" 

At last my soul explodes! "Anywhere! Just so it is out of the world!"
Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. - Burroughs
Visual art and writing don't exist on an aesthetic hierarchy that positions one above the other, because each is capable of things the other can't do at all. Sometimes one picture is equal to 30 pages of discourse, just as there are things images are completely incapable of communicating. - William S. Burroughs
Let's start MISSION THREE with IMPETUS why don't we... 
Let's just admit this one... AFTER 10 days... IMPETUS is going to be a very difficult submission to complete (or move towards completion for that matter)... The ride is about to get a bit more wild... perhaps.

submission B: RECENT IMPETUS

started May 9th with a trip to Modern Fuel... this may take a while to piece together... 
http://www.canalcontemporaneo.art.br/saloesepremios/archives/003504.html#1
What makes one start a project?

A GRAND MANIFESTO? when one asks why?
...and the search for meaning and purpose rather than answers and solutions

"I could... but I don't want to..."
A SKEWERED HEART
  • what is this desire for love?
  • what am I alone?
  • why do we seek another
THE SACRED NUT
Let's start with a few, are they troubling questions? This process, this path is littered with hundreds (well maybe not hundreds, but more than a few)....
  • What are the basic components of one's search for god?
  • what is behind the desire to believe?
  • why endeavors such as a search for god met with such fear?
The other night, I had a dream. The first dream I had remembered in quite some time. A friend and I were wandering down a wooded path. We came across a Park Ranger. I didn't recognize this Park Ranger but he seemed familiar, I felt I knew him. He told us that there was a little known path just up ahead and suggested that we take it. We took the path, it was quite short. It lead to a large boulder upon which we climbed. When we reached the top of the bolder we found a large metal cross had been bolted onto the boulder. Beside the cross was an unlit candle. The Park Ranger appeared and told us that we could light the candle but if we did so, to make sure that we extinguish it before we left and to leave it for the next people to climb atop the boulder...

I woke up...