3 Old Men: The 1000 Commands

One of my 2016 Lichtenbergian Proposed Efforts is to continue my work with 3 Old Men, my Burner theme camp.

For over a year now we have joked about expanding the camp to include a 50-foot square, roped off, with a deer stand at one end where one of us would sit with a megaphone and yell commands at any hippies who stepped into the square.  Well, deer stands are a) expensive; and b) heavy, so we’ve never gotten around to doing it.  (Needless to say, we already have the rope from the old version of the labyrinth.)

But I think getting this idea off the ground is going to be my major 3 Old Men focus for a while.  First of all, we can give up the deer stand idea—just a tall bar chair would do, especially if we put it on a small platform.  So that’s a major hurdle we don’t have to clear.

The second major item on the agenda is what exactly would happen if hippies wandered into the enclosure?  I have a vague idea of contact improv/InterPlay/Twyla Tharp movements, but once I’m sitting in that chair,  what happens?

To that end, here’s my newest Waste Book:

When I’m trying to avoid other projects, I can pick this up and start imagining what would be interesting, amusing, or beautiful in the arena.  I also intend to engage the rest of the troupe in the project, probably through a Google Doc.

Also too, I have to come up with a name for it.

Lichtenbergianism: the Nine Precepts

Since I just realized that I have never actually blogged about the Nine Precepts of Lichtenbergianism, I shall do that now. (I have mentioned them once, but gave no explanation of them.)

As I explain in the upcoming Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy, these Precepts spring from a seminar some fellow Lichtenbergians and I gave at GHP in 2013.  In preparing to sit in what turned out to be a crowded room and to discuss how putting off doing any work had actually made us more successful creators, I boiled down our experience to nine keywords.  In the seminar, we simply threw each term up on the screen and then all shared how they affected us as artists/teachers/programmers/veterinarians.

Here are the Nine Precepts:

  1. Task Avoidance: Obviously. Cras melior est.
  2. Abortive Attempts: Give yourself permission to create crap.  Lots of crap.
  3. Successive Approximation: Give yourself permission to change what you’ve done.
  4. Waste Books: Create a system to record your ideas willy-nilly.  Sort them out later.
  5. Ritual: Find ways to make your work flow.
  6. Steal from the Best: Pay attention to the past, learn from it, then run with it.
  7. Gestalt: Look at your work and see what’s there and what’s not there, what needs to be there and what needs to be not there.
  8. Audience: Have someone in mind.
  9. Abandonment: Give up.

There’s a lot more complexity to these ideas, of course.  I discuss that in the book.  Reserve your copy today.  Or tomorrow.

An interesting IP scenario

In our topic today, ‘IP’ stands for ‘intellectual property,’ i.e., copyrights, patents, all those kinds of things that are not physical property but which are protected by various laws and lawyers.

Mostly lawyers.  Have you ever tried using a Disney character for some purpose of your own?  Try it sometime.  Leave the number of cease & desist letters you get in comments.  (For a saucy explanation of copyright protection and fair use of copyrighted materials, see:

So here’s my interesting scenario.  I’m working on Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy, and I’m clipping right along at about 1,000 words per day thank you very much.

As I work, I’m collecting examples, images, quotes that support the Nine Precepts.[1] As I do so, I am quite aware of whether or not I will have to seek permission from a copyright holder in order to use those items in the book.  (I am aware mostly because Dianne Mize, in a letter describing her progress with her editor/publisher for Finding the Freedom to Create, described several roadblocks in finding a translation of the Tao Te Ching that she was allowed to quote from in her book.)

For the most part, I’ve used materials that are either in the public domain or have a Creative Commons license.  Direct quotes are cited fully in footnotes and bibliography and so fall under fair use.[3]

But today, in discussing the precept Steal from the Best, I directed the reader’s attention to Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon and explained how a good artist would “copy” the African masks which inspired part of Picasso’s painting (leaving them and our world unchanged), while Picasso, a great artist, “stole” the masks, changing both them and our world in the process.

I know for a fact that there are usage restrictions with the Museum of Modern Art’s image, because their website says so, right there on the painting’s webpage along with a link to the company that handles licensing for MOMA.  For such a small scale work as Lichtenbergianism is bound to be, I figure it cannot be worth even a small sum to secure the rights to the painting’s use.

So I’ve linked to it in a footnote.  The reader who is unfamiliar with the work can put that URL into the browser and see the painting immediately.

Will I have violated copyright law by doing so?  This is an interesting question to me.  I haven’t reprinted their image without permission.  I have referenced it, and I’ve provided the information for my reader to find it, and in fact I’ve benefited MOMA by driving traffic to their website.  But it could be argued (in court…) that I have used Picasso’s Demoiselles as an illustration in my book: the reader simply opens up the webpage and then reads along in Lichtenbergianism with the painting there before him.

updated to add: Moreover, it could be argued that I intended to illustrate my book with MOMA’s image, that if it were public domain or CCC-licensed, or if I had had the funds to license it, I would have included the image. (Why am I contributing to the unraveling of the Commons here by doing their lawyers’ work for them??)

The floor is now open for comments.

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[1] It occurs to me that I have not blogged specifically about the Precepts of Lichtenbergianism.  Tomorrow, perhaps.[2]

[2] That was a joke.

[3] The biggie is the book of Lichtenbergian aphorisms from which I pull quotes.  My use of them exceeds fair use, and the translation I’m using is definitely copyrighted.  So I see a couple of exchanges with R. J. Hollingdale in my future…

Lichtenbergian goals, 2016

It’s time now to post about my Lichtenbergian goals for 2016.

As I’ve discussed before, the process of deciding what my goals will be for the coming year is a serious thing. I don’t want to overload myself, but neither do I want to be the guy who shows up at the Annual Meeting having accomplished all his goals. That would be gauche and liable for Censure.

I will have to say, though, that this year’s choices were tough, as I’ll explain below.

Lichtenbergianism

First and foremost, of course, is to finish Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy, the book explaining the Lichtenbergian approach to the creative process. If we presume a word count of 25,000 words, I’ve written a little over half of them, i.e., the easy part.

Now I have to go back in and smooth things out—make sure that I’m not falling into the “ignorance of knowledge” trap, over-assuming my audience’s contextual understanding of what I’m talking about. I need to keep refining my idea of who the audience for the book is. I need to start making sure it flows and doesn’t just lurch from topic to topic.

3 Old Men

Once again, I want to expand our theme camp to include the “yelling at the hippies” area. Brief recap: it’s a 50-foot square defined by our old ropes and tent stakes, with a tall chair (like a deer stand) on one side. One of our camp sits in the chair with a megaphone and shouts instructions to any hippies who have gotten inside.

These instructions include contact improv/InterPlay/Twyla Tharp kinds of movement and play, so that we have an impromptu performance of sorts.

Recently, at Scott’s Antiques, I came across these:

Carefully labeled FOR OUTDOOR USE ONLY, they’re sturdy plastic flipcharts for scoring events, and they were only $1 each! Suddenly our arena got more interesting—we can put up three to five chairs on the sidelines where hippies can choose to sit and score the efforts of the performers. This has led to the description of the project as “ludicrous totalitarianism, with judgment—but in a good way.”

Part of the project will be to compile a list of commands that will create a neat-o experience for participants and for onlookers. That should be fun.

I also want to continue working with Flashpoint Artists Initiative, the nonprofit which runs Euphoria/Alchemy, as a small-time volunteer on various projects.

Backstreet Arts

Local artist Kim Ramey has a vision to establish a venue for an art studio for homeless/underserved populations here in Newnan. I want to become more involved in helping that to become a reality.

My personal agenda is to provide within the facility a space for writing and publishing, as exemplified by Temporary Services in Chicago. As Kim wants to provide a place for people to “do art,” I want to help people to tell their stories.

???

For lack of a better word, I’m calling this the Undefined Universe Project.

I was actually stuck on deciding what else to do for a goal, and here’s why: after years of writing music that has never been performed, I just didn’t have the spirit to attach myself to Seven Dreams or to SUN TRUE FIRE again,[1] nor to start Simon’s Dad or anything else new when I know it’s not going to get performed.

I know full well that that’s part of being a modern composer, just writing your heart out and then hitting the pavement to try to sell it. And I’m going to work more on that aspect of the business, both for the music and for Lichtenbergianism. But in the meantime, I want a little validation, you know?

So my goal is to allow the Universe to send me a project which is attached to actual production. I will help it along by putting myself and my work out there (#playdalesmusic, anyone?), but I’m going to start by using my woo skills to put the Universe on notice that I’m open and receptive.

I’ll keep you posted.

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[1] Which is not to say that I won’t be futzing around with those pieces or even something new, just to keep myself flowing.

Blindness

Makes me sick knowing that this silhouette will soon be gone & the view of this “yet-to-be-named” Square will forever be missing Jackson’s statue. Boggles my mind that the Square was built in 1721 & Jackson’s statue erected in 1856, yet in 2015 it’s going to be removed by people with an agenda following a prescribed agenda.

This was the comment under a lovely photo of Jackson Square in New Orleans, in the fog with the equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson silhouetted against the cathedral.  It was posted by a Facebook associate—I refuse to call them “friends” anymore—and I had to come blog about it here rather than be rude over there.

It’s in response to the city of New Orleans deciding to divorce itself from its Confederate past.  (You can read about it here if you like.) This kind of thing is always problematic, because no one likes the idea of trying to erase the past. It smacks of Stalinism at its propagandistic worst.

However, I don’t think that’s what New Orleans is trying to do.  I think they are simply voting to disengage from the part of their past which celebrated the ill-conceived (and even more ill-executed) Confederate States of America.  There is no way we can ever erase our embarrassing rebellion, but I don’t think anyone would ever deny that since our defeat in 1865 our region has clung to the Glorious Cause as if it were an unmitigated good.[1]

So good for the city council of NOLA in trying to put all that behind them.  Better to put it in the closet than sweep it under the rug, I think.

But in regard to the comment above, eyebrows must be raised and lips pursed.  I am always astonished at how un-self-aware persons of this ilk are. His mind is boggled that the Square existed for 135 years before the city honored the hero of the Battle of New Orleans, which occurred at the end of the War of 1812,[2] and then laments that the city has decided to make another change.  Because that’s an “agenda.”  The “agenda” that renamed Tivoli Circle to Lee Circle[3]… well, that’s not an “agenda.”

And there we have it: the mentality that the privileged history of the commenter is the default reality and everything that deviates from that is actually deviant.  It’s the source of much butthurt in our rightwing brethren these days.

Because here’s the clincher: this is pure butthurt.[4] If you go read the article in the footnote below, you’ll see that the monuments that are being removed do not include Andrew Jackson’s statue in Jackson Square because Andrew Jackson, whatever his other heinous faults, was not a Confederate general.[5]

How does a brain like that remember not to leave the house without pants?  Jebus.

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[1] Yes, I am aware that many among us still consider it an unmitigated good.  They are as wrong as their ancestors.

[2] Technically it occurred after the end of the War of 1812, but news about peace treaties traveled slow in those days.

[3] The white New Orleanians who put up the Lee statue in 1884 and renamed Tivoli Circle for him didn’t hide their motives. “We cannot ignore the fact that the secession has been stigmatized as treason and that the purest and bravest men in the South have been denounced as guilty of shameful crime,” The Daily Picayune wrote. “By every appliance of literature and art, we must show to all coming ages that with us, at least, there dwells no sense of guilt.” [The Editorial Board, NOLA.com | The Times-Picayune. (2015, December 18). With vote to remove Confederate monuments, City Council embraces New Orleans’ future: Editorial. Retrieved December 18, 2015, from http://www.nola.com/politics/index.ssf/2015/12/confederate_monuments_new_orle_7.html ]

[4] Yes, I see what I did there.

[5] That would have been difficult for him, since he died in 1845.

Lichtenbergian goals from 2015

Hi there!  I’ve been busy getting A Christmas Carol on its feet, so apologies all round for the lack of fabulously interesting content around here.  But now the Lichtenbergian Annual Meeting[1] is upon us and I must take a look back to see how well I’ve done on my goals for this past year.  Let’s take a look, shall we?

Seven Dreams

Nada.  After I finished Dream One last year, I was waiting on my librettist, C. Scott Wilkerson, to provide more text for our opera (based on his play Seven Dreams of Falling, a retelling of the Icarus myth).  Alas, he’s been caught up in finishing his PhD, so I twiddled my thumbs.  There were some abortive attempts to set the opening and ending of Dream Three since I knew what it was going to be, but I failed utterly to crack that nut.

3 Old Men

Check.  My goal was to expand the camp, which we did but not in the way I originally intended.  As documented here, I constructed fabric “walls” to go over the tent stakes of the labyrinth, replacing the yellow rope and improving its looks quite some.  We also added some really cool new Old Men to the camp, one of whom brought fire art to the entire concept.

Five Easier Pieces

Done! I can check it off my list, where it has been for at least two years.

Christmas Carol

My goals for Christmas Carol for this year were a) finding an affordable software music sequencer that works like the old EZ•Vision sequencer did; b) learning to use it; and c) completely rescoring Christmas Carol again with a full orchestral accompaniment.  And d) directing the show.  I did it all and infinitely more.

SUN TRUE FIRE

It remained a back burner project.

design & construction of labyrinths

Not a major goal to begin with, I designed two labyrinths for “clients” that ended up being unnecessary.  Still, a pleasant diversion.

general work habits

This one was a success—I re-established a daily routine that worked for me and actually was more productive than the short list above would indicate. The principles of Lichtenbergianism teach us that having goals is important even especially if they only serve to provide reference points to avoid, and that’s what happened here.

Next…

Lichtenbergian goals for 2016—let’s see what comes out of my mouth at the Meeting.

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[1] For those just joining us, the Lichtenbergian Society is my group of friends who support each other in their willingness to procrastinate their way to creative success.

Easier Piece #5: another update

Soooo close…

The end is particularly wonky, but I can’t decide if it’s dazzlingly kaleidoscopic or just inept.

Easier Piece #5 (12/17/15): mp3

update:  Oops, I finished it.  (Minor futzing, and a tweak to the ending.)

Originally, I intended the piece to be a nocturne, a dreamy quiet  finish to the five pieces, and definitely more Arvo Pärt than it turned out to be.  Oh well.  I suppose I could make it Six Easier Pieces, but then I’d have to put it on next year’s Lichtenbergian goals.  Not going to happen.

I’ve left a lot of the articulation of the moving parts to the pianist, although there are a couple of deliberate staccatos in there that anyone who plays this should feel free to ignore.

Now, are these pieces actually easier to play?  Compared to Six Fugues (no preludes) they are, but are they in fact objectively five easier pieces?  Someone who can actually play should play them and tell me.  #playdalesmusic

Five Easier Pieces: No. 5 (Sonatine) | score [pdf] | mp3

New cocktail: the Quarter Moon

Here’s an as-yet unnamed a new cocktail:

Kitteh approved

The Quarter Moon

  • 1-1/2 oz bourbon or rye (bourbon preferred)
  • 1 oz Tuaca liqueur
  • 1/2 oz Averna Amaro
  • orange peel

Shake Stir,[1] pour into martini glass, garnish with orange peel.

It has a great bitterness to it which includes both the Tuaca’s vanilla/orange undertones and the orange peel’s fresh oils.  A bourbon version would be sweeter than the rye—worth trying!

update: The bourbon version is actually superior!  I’ve named it the Quarter Moon for no good reason.  The orange peel is essential.

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[1] Don’t know why I wrote “shake,” when cocktails without citrus juices in them are to be stirred, not shaken.  (James Bond was deliberately ordering his drinks diluted.)

A small rant

This quick rant is brought to you by the Lichtenbergian Precept of Task Avoidance: by writing this, I’m avoiding work on the Easier Piece #5.

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During a recent Facebook discussion about tax rates—and it was a discussion, not an insane bout of poo-flinging—we were treated to the old rightwing shibboleth of not wanting a higher, progressive tax rate on the wealthy because it would “punish success,” somehow disincentivizing the ruling class from being productive members of society.

I have never understood why people believe this kind of thing, other than they’ve had it hammered into their brains by the very people whom it benefits.  It makes no logical sense.

I am supposed to believe that a class of people who are distinguished by their rapacious and never-ending greed would suddenly stop their money-making activities if we forced them to contribute more of their income to the common welfare?  Leaving aside any worldviews about whether the government can even because reasons, that’s just stupid talk.

Why would the opposite not be true?  Why, if we suddenly confiscated more of their income through progressive taxation, would the ultra-wealthy not double down to make more to keep?  Seems to me that would be the more logical outcome, given what we’ve seen to be true about that class.

So we raise tax rates back to where they were when we had a strong middle class, and the upper classes contribute more, the government reduces the budget deficit, the economy improves, the middle class gets more money to spend and the upper class is more productive.  What’s not to like?