Peace, prosperity, art and the quantum field

 

Nave, Ely Cathedral, Cambridge, UK*

I wonder if I would be wrong in saying most artists are not religious, or at least, they don't follow the religions expected in their country. I can't say I've ever met many artists in church, but then, I don't actually go to church. 

If I did go to church, I would alternate between Anglican (Church of England in the UK, Episcopal in the US) and Religious Science. (No, NOT Scientology. Religious Science is also called Science of Mind.)

Indeed, that's what I did when I lived in the US where one can find both formats of approaching the godhead within driving distance of just about anywhere. (OK, maybe not in what a friend calls Chokelahoma.....) In the UK, Anglican is easy. Religious Science? Well, there's one congregation about 2.5 hours from my house--so no, I haven't been there.

Church art

I love the Anglican Church for the artistic qualities, mainly. The music, often world-class even in mid-sized churches. The beautiful historic buildings. The lovely vestments. The poetic cadence of readings from the King James Bible. And the coffee hour. Gotta have a coffee hour. If it doesn't, it won't matter what else it has, I won't attend. Because church is also about community. If it has all that, I can forget the sometimes ludicrous interpretations of the wise sayings of that gentle guru, Jesus of Nazareth, and all of the medieval claptrap about bodies zinging on up to heaven without so much as a ticket for Ryanair.

As for Religious Science, it always has a coffee hour after a service. Good thing, because there is no liturgy to speak of, the music is usually modern (think Cat Stevens' Morning Has Broken, one of the best you'll hear there), and it's often held in a meeting room in an industrial estate.

Thoughts are things

But one goes for the teaching. Religious Science, founded by a man named Ernest Holmes, was early into the quantum physics movement. Holmes KNEW that thoughts, properly used, created things. "Thoughts are things" is a primary tenet of the belief. (Find a brief explanation of Religious Science/Science of Mind here.) Thus, don't think about what you don't want as, by being cast out into the quantum field, those thoughts will produce results you don't want.

By the way, the quantum field is a real thing. 

Do you think that matter and energy are different things? Not to a quantum scientist. In the quantum universe, there is no such thing as matter and energy; EVERYTHING is energy. Here's an example, stainless steel. A lump of the stuff is no more than molecules of steel energy components vibrating so slowly that they seem solid. (You may have heard that even within atoms, there is so much empty space that the distance between a proton and a neutron is like the distance from the earth to the sun, in miniature.)

This is not the quantum field; it is a Hubble telescope photo of LOTS of little universes. Indeed. all of this is in the quantum field, and the quantum field is in it. (NASA.gov photo)

So, what does any of this have to do with art? Simple. Your thoughts are creative in so many more ways than you might ordinarily think about that it is worth it to paint your entire life, not just the canvas on the easel, or to choreograph it or write the notes or it in such a way that it is as beautiful a creation as the ones you can see or hear.

Art/life/politics

And that applies to ALL of life. Even politics.

And politics, at the moment, requires a whole lot of attention in the quantum field. It is, in the English-speaking worlds of the US and the UK, at a point of change. Will it be nurturing to all its people and and all its neighbors, or will it be hostile, penalizing all people and things unlike themselves or worse, unlike them and begging for their help?

The point of change is in the middle. Western society is at a point o change. Will it go up or down?

In Christian religions, the second course of action is wrong. The Christ bids everyone to care for his or her neighbour at all times. No exceptions. Friend or foe. And so, by the way, do Orthodox Judaism and the better practices of Islam. (ISIS is to Islam as Ian Paisley is to Protestantism in Northern Ireland, in short, a very dangerous departure from godly teaching--in Religious Science terms, using the mind for negative results for people.)

I don't want to get to far into any religion here. There are tons of books about the loving teachings of Jesus if you want them, or about the foundational ethical tenets of both Judaism and Islam.

But few people would know where to find Religious Science tenets, or even that the primary belief of the approach to life, death and everything in between is "thoughts are things."

That having been said, it seems to me using a bit of Religious Science wouldn't hurt. It seems inconceivable to me that any artist working in any genre would want to subscribe to thinking or actions that are inimical to human life, as those thoughts are likely to become things. Among those thoughts would be: 

• kill refugees instead of helping them
• mistreat people of genders you don't understand
• hoard
• deprive others of what you have and what you can give
• ....and onward. 

Be aware: whatever evil you desire for others will, MUST, eventually come back to you. Thoughts are things. 

We could, therefore, just wait for the wheel to go round and the despicable governments of the US and the UK to be gone...sometime.

In equine competition, when asked how do you get over those big fences, the answer is: You toss your heart over first, and then the horse will follow. In short, you set the intention to jump it, ask the horse to agree, and it is done. Thoughts are things.

Or we can cast Religious Science thoughts into the quantum soup, believing that it does not have to be this way, that people do not have to suffer at the hands of the greedy and the vicious. We can fervently repeat a prayer like this one:

There is one quantum field. Everything that exists is, was and will be a part of this quantum field. The quantum field has no desires; it produces exactly what we tell it to produce; thoughts are things.

Therefore, we demand that the quantum field immediately negate the processes of negativity, processes of greed, processes of intimidation, and processes of neglect of the citizens of the US and the UK.

In the place of these things and all other harmful actions, we demand that governments take care of the people instead of subjugating them to the demands of the unenlightened few.

We demand that governments cease seeing how much they can get away with and instead see how much they can provide in terms of peace, abundance and opportunity for all the citizens, both within their borders and those who need protection and come from elsewhere.

We demand this now.

And so it is.

I believe if all people of goodwill fervently issued such instructions repeatedly to the Quantum Intelligence, we would see a change in the very chaotic conduct so prevalent in the US and the UK at the moment. We would create the work of art we desire; peace and prosperity for all, in which all could create what their souls desire.

Goodness knows, our temporal actions--marches, letter campaigns, etc.--have fallen on deaf ears. It is time to turn it over to the intelligence of the Universe, and demand relief. For all. No matter how. (We cannot tell the quantum field HOW to do something, but simply what to do; it must work in its own ways of quantum physics law. But work it must when the demand is made upon it. That is its nature; to run the universe for good.)





*Photo credit:
Ely Cathedral By Diliff - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34607450

The Turnip Prize and Me

Once again, now that I'm back in the UK, I'm going to enter a couple of pieces o fartwork---yes, it says, o fartwork on purpose, rather than of artwork--for the Turnip Prize. Again, not the prestigious Turner Prize, but the even MORE prestigious Turnip Prize. In my opinion.

I first entered four years ago, having phoned the mastermind of this wonderful addition to the art world and asked him to let me know if my entry was on the right track. He was patient as I described it, then said he thought it probably took too much work. I sent it anyway. (Photo below)
  

Parliament of Foules, my first losing Turnip Prize entry. (For non UK residents, the dork at the right is David Cameron, Tory PM who got us into this fucking Brexit mess. The rest are other execrable Tories.)

It didn't win.

But I was on a mission. So the next year, I sent two entries. They were so simple, it took me no more than 2 minutes to create each one.

The first was called Cock-a-Doodle and it was a scribble of a pecker on a sheet from a notepad, taped to a bit of cardboard.

The second was elaborate, consisting of a bill from our vet with a plastic bull from a bottle of wine taped to it and the whole thing taped to a piece of cardboard. It was called Bull Chit.

It didn't win either.

Then we moved to France in 2016 during pre-Turnip Prize season, so I missed that year. Then we moved back to our house in the UK last year during pre-Turnip season, except the skanky tenant was still in our house. We spent six weeks in two holiday homes waiting for the courts to move their arse and hers, and it just wasn't possible for me to get excited about the Turnip Prize. Or to create an entry.

So I missed two years. But ta da!  This year I have four--FOUR--entries in mind. I have now obtained all the materials I need for all four: a glass jar, an old watch, some toy horses, toy knights, a mouse squeak toy for cats, a tiny ladder and candy corn. I hope the fact that the corn had to be imported from the US won't disqualify that entry for being too demanding to create. But they don't have candy corn in the UK, and it was essential, so I had to take the artistic risk. (Oh, dear, this does sound like too much effort. Note to Turnip Prize judges: Please remember that these are the raw materials for FOUR entries, so how much time could I possibly spend on each one?)

Last year's winner was called Pulled Pork, and it was a toy tractor attached to a toy pig by a piece of cord.

I really do want to win.

It's not just the swell turnip mounted on board with a rusty nail that I want. It's the chance to go to the awards ceremony in Somerset--only a couple of hours away--and revel through the night. Or at least the early evening.

In case you want to enter (DON'T YOU DARE ENTER!), the information you need is below.

The Turnip Prize is a spoof art award of the lesser known Turner Prize. We will be accepting entries for this year’s competition from Friday 1st November. Entries should take the least amount of effort possible to create.

To enter contact:

Trevor 01934 710004 or 07812848011

Or The New Inn, Wedmore.

Alternatively leave your entry at The New Inn, Combe Batch, Wedmore, Somerset. BS28 4DT

Please include your name or pseudonym and contact phone number.

Closing date for entries will be Friday 21st November.

The winner will be announced at The New Inn, Wedmore, Somerset on Tuesday 5th December at 6.30pm.

For more info visit The New Inn, Wedmore or our facebook page

If you're not THAT deep into crap art, you might want to buy the toilet-side book instead, below.

Frankly, I think Knickerless Cage took quite a lot of work, considering.

BTW: I don't know if you SHOULD buy it via the link below. I got a note this morning telling me my blogs had not sold enough amazon product (oh, gosh, SO sorry, should have known I was working for Bezos' increasing wealth, and not my own art purposes), so I'd say either find it in a store or see if Waterstone's (UK) or Barnes & Noble (US) can order one for you. Or just do a LookInside.

Charcuterie by any other name

Purchased from the artist across the street from Les Deux Magot in Paris many, many years ago.

I have bought art on the streets several times. Sometimes, it was not so unusual--for instance, in Central Park on a lovely warm day near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. One such painting purchased on the hoof and on the spur of the moment still hangs in my house. It is a small print of a very Japanese-style original watercolour. Another work, purchased the same day--elongated horses with elongated riders dressed for a fox hunt--is long gone. Neither cost more than 20 bucks, although they were both admirable in their way.

And then there are the charity purchases. On came to hand on the beach at the end of Duval Street in Key West, Florida. There, I bought a truly terrible seascape painted with poster paints on the back of a beer carton. The painter was, I'm quite sure, homeless. That picture, too, is long gone.

Still living with me after all these years is the acrylic painting above, purchased neither because it was quite good art nor for charitable reasons. This small painting was hanging on a fence with similar works, most of them much larger (this one fit in my purse), across the street from Les Deux Magot, itself a cafe with excellent Parisian art and lit. creds.  The artist was hawking his work to tourists in the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve from the fence surrounding the ancient L'Eglise de St. Germain-des-Pres. How could anything be more European? Although, truth to tell, I imagined at the time that the painter was a broke English or American student, possibly the reason he barely managed a Bonjour or a Merci, lest we discover he was not a starving French student.

I didn't buy that painting just because it was easy to carry home. Or because it cost about 20 bucks, although in francs (it was that long ago), my usual street-art limit. Or because of the possible starving artist student. Or because I was sated after coffee and pastry at Les Deux Magot and in a spendthrift mood. Or because it was hanging on a fence surrounding an historic church.

I bought it because charcuterie is misspelled. There is no reason an artist has to be a good speller, anymore than a good speller needs to be a good artist. Still, surely the artist had seen the spelling on any number of establishments in Paris; he might even have frequented some.

The misspelling made me laugh. The fact that the faces, except or the moustachioed man, have no features but eyes also made me laugh. And it reminded me of the artist uncle of a friend who sold his work for big prices in NYC, all of them figure studies. Without faces. The man could not paint faces, my friend told me. But that didn't stop him living a charmed artists' life. If by charmed, one means selling one's work for enough to afford a middle-class life, a rarity 40 years ago, even more so now.

Possibly my favourite place in Paris, and one that's affordable--unlike the Hotel Duc de St. Simon. Since I stayed there around 1980, and it was expensive but not wildly so, it has become obscenely so--430 E. for a small suite to start. Why? The glitteratti discovered it. (Photo by Roboppy, Wikipedia,https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5011222 )

The painting hangs now, as it has for many years, in my kitchen. It did not hang in my kitchen in Quillan, languedoc. It would have seemed out of place. And actually, I rather thought I'd move back to the UK at some point. I didn't like Languedoc. It isn't Paris. It isn't a place where--as I imagined--an English-speaking student would act like a French student and hang his work on a fence to try to sell it. For much of the year, Quillan is fully 40 percent English speakers. Artistic? Well, no. It has a huge art festival every spring, and the town even hides the derelict buildings on so many centre ville streets with clever painted panels. But it's still not French.

Paris is French. And no matter the language of the painter, so is that painting.