No one has ever met someone smarter than him self.

NO one has ever met someone smarter than her self. 

No one

.

इयूम ऍम इन्क्रेदिब्लेम लौरा इस Incredible

I'm told that my depression is when my expectations don't meet reality, what if my expectations were humane, just, and harmonious with the earth and i

On Monday, May 4, a protest was scheduled to be held at noon, as had been planned three days earlier. University officials attempted to ban the gathering, handing out 12,000 leaflets stating that the event was canceled. Despite this, an estimated 2,000 people gathered^[15] on the university's Commons, near Taylor Hall. The protest began with the ringing of the campus's iron Victory Bell (which had historically been used to signal victories in football games) to mark the beginning of the rally, and the first protester began to speak.

Fearing that the situation might escalate into another violent protest, Companies A and C, 1/145th Infantry and Troop G of the 2/107th Armored Cavalry, Ohio ARNG, the units on the campus grounds, attempted to disperse the students. The legality of the dispersal was later debated at a subsequent wrongful death and injury trial. On appeal, the United States Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit ruled that authorities did indeed have the right to disperse the crowd.

The dispersal process began late in the morning with campus police official Harold Rice^[16], riding in a Guard Jeep, approaching the students to read them an order to disperse or face arrest. In response, the protesters pelted the Jeep with rocks, forcing it to retreat and injuring one Guardsman in the attack.^{[citation needed]}

Just before noon, the Guard returned and again ordered the crowd to disperse. When most of the crowd refused, the Guard used tear gas. Because of wind, the tear gas had little effect in dispersing the crowd, and some began a second rock attack with chants of "Pigs off campus!" The students lobbed the tear gas canisters back at the National Guardsmen; however, they had put on gas masks upon first throwing tear gas at the students.

When it was obvious the crowd was not going to disperse, a group of 77 National Guard troops from A Company and Troop G, with bayonets fixed on their weapons, began to advance upon the hundreds of protesters. As the guardsmen advanced, the protesters retreated up and over Blanket Hill, heading out of The Commons area. Once over the hill, the students, in a loose group, moved northeast along the front of Taylor Hall, with some continuing toward a parking lot in front of Prentice Hall (slightly northeast of and perpendicular to Taylor Hall). The guardsmen pursued the protesters over the hill, but rather than veering left as the protesters had, they continued straight, heading down toward an athletic practice field enclosed by a chain link fence. Here they remained for about ten minutes, unsure of how to get out of the area short of retracing their entrance path (an action some guardsmen considered might be viewed as a retreat^{[improper synthesis?]}). During this time, the bulk of the students congregated off to the left and front of the guardsmen, approximately 50 to 75 meters away, on the veranda of Taylor Hall. Others were scattered between Taylor Hall and the Prentice Hall parking lot, while still others, perhaps 35 or 40, were standing in the parking lot, or dispersing through the lot as they had been previously ordered.

While on the practice field, the guardsmen generally faced the parking lot which was about 100 yards away. At one point, some of the guardsmen knelt and aimed their weapons toward the parking lot, then stood up again. For a few moments, several guardsmen formed a loose huddle and appeared to be talking to one another. The guardsmen appeared to be unclear as to what to do next. They had cleared the protesters from the Commons area, and many students had left, but many stayed and were still angrily confronting the soldiers, some throwing rocks and tear gas canisters. At the end of about ten minutes, the guardsmen began to retrace their steps back up the hill toward the Commons area. Some of the students on the Taylor Hall veranda began to move slowly toward the soldiers as the latter passed over the top of the hill and headed back down into the Commons.

At this point, at 12:22 PM,^[1] a number of guardsmen at the top of the hill abruptly turned and fired their M1 Garand rifles at the students. The guardsmen directed their fire not at the closest students, who were on the Taylor Hall veranda, but at those on the grass area and concrete walkway below the veranda, at those on the service road between the veranda and the parking lot, and at those in the parking lot.^{[improper synthesis?]} Bullets were not sprayed in all directions; instead, they were confined to a fairly limited line of fire leading from the top of the hill to the parking lot. Not all the soldiers who fired their weapons directed their fire into the students. Some soldiers fired into the ground, while a few fired into the air. In all, 29 of the 77 guardsmen claimed to have fired their weapons, using a final total of 67 bullets. The shooting was determined to have lasted only 13 seconds, although a New York Times reporter stated that "it appeared to go on, as a solid volley, for perhaps a full minute or a little longer." The question of why the shots were fired remains widely debated.

Screaming cut throat

I pick my accne

Scars all over my
Body To enter my
tribes scarification

"there's only one
Jesus, and he's dead
all you want to be's can
quit it and try Being yoursleves."

"we're just been spotted by some
real cool guys, they think we're
cool, they're real cool, the
scene has been spotted, we dug it."

"I am only gettiing older
the word older is older

NOtes

What they teach you at school

I get all my ideas from t.v

USER PAY EDUCATION MEANS

PAY TO LEARN
TO GET A JOB
VOTE to keep
Your JOB. DEMOCRACY
RUN BY BOSSES
AND ignore
Art
that you don't
understand. Because
it just doesn't matter.

POST CITIZEN

Avant-garde is Resistance you can afford

don't be fooled by imitations

Chrisfist gleaming like a day in LA, although a heard of Ents have set up camp, waiting for the insects to step out of line, a miss placed coloradoian day with the Rockies tearing down the sky in tsunami like wall blocking the horizon. Snowy peaks are lifted above a line of grey smog to be their slightly blue selves, only an orange glow is lightly reflected in hue. I from my million dollar satellite permanently orbiting grid city, scramble all fighter planes to attack the dull ness of to many thc tablets in my system. Awkward fights with lovve ones over money over unemployment have me stretched out and disjointed. I ‘m in need of a new rhythm, a cock sure fired way of getting off into the zone of no return to return with the bag of goods and all is forgiven the bacon provider. Though that’s not me, lostin obscurity, let me tell you about my act, my travelling act here in the rockies the LA the Colorado ChristFist, Apollos gladwrap appearances has sprung a stinking leak.

Today is the last day of the shows four week run. I feel sad. There is no relief. Maybe a publication is not likely to eventuate I’m obscure I don’t make art but wait let me telly you what I do know. I called the first show, of which there were 3 during this time, Art Aristocracy after the audience I was appealing to and my own beliefs about my work, being that poor art is the inheritor of liberated ideas democratic equal justified and common, that all that walk with the spirit of generosity are Aristocratic, those that wish to step off the tred mill and bestow time on the people These are Aristoricatic, whose Mansions lie within whose wealth has no equal. I presented a single drawing done ten times. A face, skinless, looking over it’s shoulder, a turning around to an argument whose gonna have consequences, will you mess with the bull who has horns when the horns speak and say “sharp watch out”. The first painting has some colour, muddy green and off crimson a dark patch pyramid like a Hitler moustache under the nose. Each head’s paint is scraped thinly over the surface a dry brush filling in the patches where the white background come through, a vague screen like white square with a faded rounded edge acts as frame. A high tech projector screen painted on giant sheets of newsprint, butchers paper, faded and crinkeled only the thin build up of paint holds the sheet together as the tissue thin membrane strains under the weight of pigment wall hung. These skinless monsters are pinned to the wall in a counter clockwise motion from first made to past, around the galleries cavernous walls, each failing to look directly back at the viewer, each suggesting the focal point off camera, out of frame, creating the effect of a mute witness, a silent vigil for their own discovery, as their skin is removed the possibility for recognition impossible they are suspended in suspicion. “Self portraits” was the accusation, how could I defend, no they are heads, consciousness of painting this moment. Paintings that will never be accepted as paintings because they are too poor. A critical moment, when recognition knows it has failed to change anything. These are not heads they are painting. And that in failure though they burn they will also alight new knowledge. A special burning then. Taste drips as we proceed around the room, in order, watching the developments of the painters decisions, we can see that the many mistakes add up to new areas of discovery, vocabulary overlooked or even forgotten,. What seemed like simply a feature of design of fulfilling the terms of the agreement, now steady themselves under scrutiny as issues in their own right, voyages of potential where terms of bad and good are left discarded on the shore, like shoes at the beach. Walking up this way we find paths and shelters of old thought threatening us with the spiders un invited habitation, Abandoned or waiting for use we will not decide on this trip as we are moving to fast towards the end. Curiously on the feature wall where the last three heads bring to climax the fourth on this side of the room, offers a super dampening effect, all notions of painterly turned down, the smallest of all the works suddenly Mickey mouse looks out at us, a logo of immense ingratitude, indifferent to the role or use of it self it seeks to cover you lunch books your wall paper car life, bleed into your solar system and colour your irises. A simple enough shape no invention yet invented, the bogey mans shadow just yours with a bump or tow more, a limb from a passing cat tree or bat. Here this painting has no soul nothing but processed cheese. The last three, the portraits as they have a passing resemblance to my profile, having got bored with my constraints I moved to realism, to a depiction of skill in depicting the three dimensional look likeness of a thing that was not here not on this paper, having mapped the others who logo, and anti logo, child like , and novice, mystic, and cultural warrior, innocent, sympathetic political and al conscious, records of time able to be. Stoped before the desire to finish improve or perfect over came the poor makers will to just be… The skinless face, a red blob a jaw and outline of forehead and neck, the muscles of the face pulling the expression conveying the signs, raw as Maori Carving, in pine, wet, un kind. Chunks of raw red strained by brush and sinew under the skin here exposed raw now another skin, raw here open for the inspection, I’ll carve me a warrior, a spirit that can find me, fight for me, find a bridge, I’ll cast this kite into the boiling waters, fish for an eel who likes me. I’ll cry wind like into the heavens that know darkness, send my moko out around town. To talk to the ladies the woman in black dresses, how do I please thee, dancer that I do. Run your tours through me, drive your van over my skull, feel the bump of my mana as I dislodge your paka paka, sneak you my soul. There’s more liquids on the floor,

Three monitors and a projection. I’ve always been told that the avant gare was dead, because it said things that turned out not to be true. I couldn’t find anything that it said that wasn’t true , so I chose not to pay any attention to those that said the avant garde was dead, instead I watched as they picked over the living body as if it was dead to fire rubberbands at oncoming beasts, standing in the middle of motorways claiming pasture all around. The avant garde as in the end game pronounced by modernisms so called event and demise, postmodernims event and decline, left avant garde alone in the pockets of individual minds that were not consumers were not producers. Each of us from the the perspective of the great artists that have gone before us have been painted, Leonardo said beware of her nature she is your master, Goya Man is a Machine, Beuys Everone is an artist, Pollock I am nature, Warhol I want to be a machine, Duchamps silent full stop in the sentence of art.. who now says anything.. Hurst “fear death’s spectacle” McCarthy, I am sex. Seem like kids relatively in their paly pit of excremental truths. What about klee, Burroghs says that a picture or a line of words is just the attempt to see, that it is a market of attempts to see, most are good at the machinery of it’s design, some have new content and threaten the existing masters of the market. Gained entry is not paid with out a price, paid by who is the wonder, casue if it’s not obvious then it’s effect is probably on the sould of people. We are heeping on the sould the prices of our own acceptance into the inner guild of knowing that it is not the seeing but the knowing that the thing represents. “I knew this then , I know that now” this marker board through the little bubbles trverse across the apex of the glass domed ceiling is the out point where all others can come in. INCLUDE THE UNIVERSE (A WAY AROUND THE END GAME)

Notes (to get around the end game, just include the universe, not that hard really, cheers!)

Street Poster



Son of the father, of the son, of the father, of the son.



New tent configuration #1




"Through the eye of imagination" Ernest Rutherford speech and assorted clips. DVD


History of the blue planet inside the red planet.



New tent configuration #2




Komatua hat, walking stick, jacket with notes.





Three Ideas for the State (+3 More)



The silence of not being famous, listen. (performance)

Art Aristocracy, The National Gallery, Christfist.

Embarrassment #1

Embarrassment #2

Embarrassment #3

Embarrassment #4 + Calvin Klein Obsession TV Ad, featuring Kate Moss

Embarrassment #5

Embarrassment #6

Embarrassment #7

Embarrassment #9

Embarrassment #10



Show street posters


Performance poster