The evolution of culture from primitive warfare

Ear, nose and threat. 

Mind Over-matter.

As if any one moment might contain all things.

Of the objects:

Sometimes it seems like the world is full up – every square inch packaged and labelled till there’s no space left to move. Then the only way to proceed is to start jamming things together. If you cross a trout with a priest you can dispense with both labels and call it dinner. Once the flesh has been eaten the bones can be used to comb one’s hair.

Inside the dog’s barque it’s very, very dark indeed. No doubt the Styx flows beneath.

There is no future except in the collated dust of things that have already been.
Only a caretaker could come up with that.

I never liked the design dictum ‘Form follows Function’ - it always sounded like Thou Shallt Not. As if God in His bearded heaven had thought it all up while doing his accounts. Granted, there’s the duck-billed platypus and the amphibious landing-craft but they’re still really only creative accounting.

I always liked the Push-me-pull-you.

Of the images:

There are moments when we realise that everything hangs on the outcome – when Life is in the balance or straw is being laid on the camel’s back. Were it not for A, B would not have happened. In fact all moments are like this and always have been so that F is not only intimately connected to U, but also to p~ and 5q*. To every action there is not always an equal and opposite reaction, sometimes it is disproportionate.

My father’s father did not understand why the ground receded as he lowered his biplane from the clouds. He reached out of the cockpit and felt the corn swishing against his fingers but still he did not land. Then an idea came to mind, he understood the problem and immediately crashed.
If he had not thought so hard he might still be flying, but I would not exist.
Luckily he had a camera on him so he climbed from the wreckage and recorded it for posterity.

My mother’s mother played the organ in the cinema in Filey owned by the man whose great-nephew would marry her daughter. It was as well they never met because they had nothing in common.

When I was twelve I drank with my father in a Weinstube on the Rhine. The landlord had been shot down over Kent in 1940 and imprisoned in a hut in Cornwall. Interned in the same hut was a man called Karl Weske who later taught me to draw but no-one knew any of this at the time.

: if I do not control this skid I will crash and probably die; if the vote goes wrong, war will follow.

(Words found in a [PS] studio notebook, c.2017)