Once more into the armpit of death

Today is a day that lacks all inspiration and gives headaches. Yet the creator presses on, and draws a lame picture of a man with a plantpot. And I can't show it to you, you lucky bastards!

song of te day: leviathan, by Akercocke

A little more on the Man of Grass

Grassman: the most pessimistic and cynical superhero of all time. Starts out a simple gardener, leading a peaceful life. A man in his prime. Age: 42. He is unpleasantly surprised, then, when he discovers his amazing abilities to manipulate greenery, and his power to transform into the legendary Grassman, a creature that was only thought to exist in myths: a man who is half-man, half grass. It turns out that much is expected of grassman, and all he wants to do is mow the lawn and find is straw hat. "Let that Moonshine guy do it. He's the hero". But Mr. Moonshine is stuck in the sky, providing the earth with necessary moonlight from his Amazing Giant Moonlight Glowbeetle Starship thingy. Meanwhile, the Hive is preparing a full-scale invasion of the earth. It looks like we're doomed, because Grassman just won't listen. What a boneheaded bastard.

Song Of The Day: Super Good, by The Boredoms

Hornet

Several weeks ago I was granted the viewing of one of nature's most beautiful creatures: a hornet, buzzing around the top of my bed in Austria. It must have been 2 inches long. After carefully removing the hornet from the room with the aid of a glass and a sheet of paper -a prison from which the little bastard attempted to escape with all his might-, I proceeded to draw it. I hope to publish this sketch the moment I have acquired this amazing Scanning Device. What surprises me is the feeling that such a small creature can evoke in a person: a clenching of the gut, one might say, when approaching or touching the critter. Amazing. That such a small being could evoke such a feeling of revulsion in a human! I love it. I think it's a beautiful, beautiful feeling and the animal that causes it is at least as beautiful. What we consider disgust is in fact a defensive instinct: a will to be away from the creature's potentially venomous or -at least- painful sting. This, to me, is proof that we humans are not so different from other animals. That's because I am a fool. Har har har.
You all stink of calamari but some
My humble salutations,
Tristan

Song Of The Day: Get Off My Back, by the Casualties

The Conqueror Worm

Here is a piece of poetry that I consider one of the highlights of recent times' literature:

Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Conqueror Worm'(1843):

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Trees and the White Light Below

I intend to employ the use of a Scanning Device in the near future, which will allow me to place my frantic scribblings and sketches into the very inside of this Hard Disk! Isn't technology amazing? Meanwhile, here is another computer-generated image I made some time ago. Nowadays I prefer to utilize my own hands when creating Art. Photoshop has always been a 'dabbling' medium, while real Art Farts are generally penned sketches on paper, accompanied by strange, dreamlike words, bearing little reference to the actual content of the image. I hope you enjoy today's Art Fart, my dear reader, and that many creative winds may in their turn blow from between the speckled buttocks that are the left- and right side of your inner cranium. Please feel free to show me what you make, for there are few things as wonderful as the moment of inspiration that comes forth from the witnessing of another's artistic endeavours.

Song of the day: Formicary, by the Sleepytime Gorilla Museum

Grassman and the Hive

I will now tell you of a hero. A superhero. His name is Grassman. Half man, half grass. He is the one who will save the world from the Hive, the alien planet that threatens to eliminate all mankind... although he doesn't know it himself yet, because he's busy mowing the lawn. You see, Grassman has not yet unlocked his full potential, but once he has, all villainous miscreants who threaten our beautiful species will quiver in fear! That is, if Grassman feels like showing up any time soon...
What is the Hive? The Hive is an alien planet that entered our solar system and ate Earth's moon, replacing it in its orbit around our planet. Now we rely on Mr. Moonshine's Giant Flying Moonglow Beetle to provide the planet's population of bats, werewolves, zombies, owls and other creatures of the night with their much-needed lunar light. Mr. Moonshine: the second hero in the sky! He's hot, manly, brave and shpeaks like Shawn Connery.
You will hear more of Grassman's and Mr. Moonshine's endeavours to save our planet in the near future. To start you off, though, here is a picture of that most foul of beings that is the Hive, mother of a thousand million fell beasts and monstrosities. Wonderful stuff.

Greetings Earthlings

Well hello there my dear reader! Seeing as this is my first post on this Web Log, I will take a brief moment to introduce Yours Truly, that is, Myself. My name is Tristan Gieler, and I am an artist and a musician. As with so many people sitting on my branch of the Personality Tree, I bear affections for red, green and iguanas. There are many things to be learned from these beautiful creatures.
I told you I am an artist. This is true. So you will probably be expecting me to place some of my Art Work on this page. My dear reader: it's your lucky day! Because I am going to post not only one, but two Art Works ( or Art Farts, as I like to call them) on this very page. Please, tell me of your opinions, and I promise I will take them to heart. Fart.
Next up is a listing. A listing of the most wonderfully, amazingly ghastly and yet (for me) deeply compelling music that frequently threatens to obliterate my eardrums. I believe everyone should at least TRY listening to these bands at least once and see what they think. Some people just won't listen...
These are the best artists and bands of all time!!!
Finntroll
Mastodon
Strapping Young Lad
Sleepytime Gorilla Museum
Napalm Death
Saint-Saens (composer)
Tom Waits
The Melvins
Neurosis
Behemoth
Gogol Bordello
Primus

Oh, God, the list never ends...

I'm sure you all smell wonderful
cheers,
Yours Truly

PS. I invite everyone to peek into my profile at flickr.com. My name is TristansArtFart