Knowrhythm.net

Experimenting with color overlays.  I shot this a while back at the Denver aquarium.

Its been a while…

-P

I would think that a road this wide and flat should be used for cars, or carriage, or maybe even large pack animals.  However, there are no tire tracks, grooves from wheels or hoof prints.  Built up a few feet from the forest floor, chipped wood mulch blankets a bed of packed clay.  Both mulch and clay a matching rich rust red.  The entire road is very well manicured, remarkably so.  Not a weed, leaf or twig can be seen anywhere close by or in the distance.  Were I a giant, it would be a large flower bed, not yet planted, extending on for miles.  Rather I say it “might” go on that far, if not for the unusually dense layer of fog hanging low a ways off, blocking all visibility.

To either side of the road are the thick walls of the surrounding forest.  Dark pines tower over the road, blocking any direct light, though casting no shadow.  They grow in neat, evenly spaced rows, each offset from the next.  Not much room is left between each tree, only enough to see the row directly behind. The roots of their trunks are barely visible through the thick carpet of needles, freshly fallen, still retaining a verdant life.

The atmosphere is thick, warm, and everything looks to have just enjoyed a fresh rain.  Nothing is particularly wet, just damp and strangely vivid in color.  Bright green needles above and below, the deep brown bark of the pine wall, the red clay and thick mulch road slicing through it all, only to eventually fade and vanish behind the curtain of fog.  Were I not here in person, I could imagine every piece of mulch, every tree and pine needle being meticulously placed, every surface being spray painted to its vibrant matte finish.

There is something there, a bird standing in the middle of the road.  I didn’t see it fly down before, but it is there now.  Pitch black feathers marked in stark contrast against the rusty damp earth.  How did I not see it before?

As it happens, this particular raven is not doing typical bird-like things, hopping around, pecking at the dirt, cawing in its native tongue (or beak).  Stranger still, it’s the only other creature I have seen, or even heard out here.  Come to think of it, nothing has made any sounds here.  No wind to stir the branches of the forest, no sound from the mulch road underfoot, not even a lonely cricket hidden among the carpet of pine needles.  Everything is still, save for myself.  As I walk closer to it, the raven looks at me, as if only just noticing I was here.  It is only curious for a moment, before it flies off disappearing into the mist.

The road no longer looks so distant.  Each step taken towards the raven had brought me closer to the roads end and the wall of fog.  Moments ago it was all so far off.  Now only a few steps more and I am standing at its end.  I decide to follow the raven in and I am quickly enveloped, everything white, gray and dense.  No more road in the pine forest, no raven.  I cant even see my hands or the rest of my body.  However, I can still feel the soft mulch underfoot and use it to guide my way.  I can finally hear it now, sound and texture changing with each step.  The ground is becoming more firm, coarse, scraping like rammed earth and gravel.  With the next step, the fog suddenly disappears and I find myself standing on a new path.  This time cool, gray and rocky.  This time quite visibly well traveled, unkept and lost.

Set between two grassy fields, the path leads not far off, down a slight hill, to a small cliff by the ocean.  At the end, just before the cliff is some sort of stone formation.  Sitting atop one of the stones is the raven.  It is very much the same one as it looks at me just as it did before.  It waits patiently, still, only flinching as the waves crash far below and the occasional gust of wind swirls about.

The raven flies away again as I make my way along the path and come to stand beneath the stones.  As I get closer I can see that they are not natural formations after all.  It is difficult to tell, but these were certainly placed here a very long time ago.  Three large stones, twice as all as myself, thrust out from the ground.  Each has four distinct sides, heavily worn and smoothed over by the elements, leaving only a hint of where its edges once were.  Each stone is tapered, the base twice again as wide as the top, giving them a strong hold into the ground.  There is room in the center of the three to stand, stretch out my arms and feel their surfaces.  The light gray stones are covered in various places by moss and lichen almost resembling a spotted fur.  Slight indentations and discolored shapes run vertically on each face of the stones.  It would seem at some point in the past there was something carved there, words or symbols long since eroded.  I wonder what these looked like when first placed here, perhaps once a shining white marble, each face with a story to tell.  Maybe they have always looked this way.  This place held great meaning for someone at some time, as it does for me now, though I can’t yet know what it is.

I reach out to try and make sense of it all, tracing my fingers around the hidden lines of these forgotten memorials.  More worn symbols, more lost words, the trio of stones the same.  Why are my feet hanging over the ground?  I am floating now, being pulled away slowly from the stones, hands sliding over their faces, rubbing away patches of moss and lichen.  Looking up I see the raven, considerably larger than before.  It looks almost as big as the sky itself as it carries me off into the night.  Is it night time now?  It lets go and I fly, just behind, like I have been flying all my life.  Faster now.  Its massive wingspan silhouettes against a star filled space.  I don’t bother looking back.  I know it is nothing but dark behind me now, having flown so far and so fast with the raven.  The earth, the paths, the three stones by the cliff, all just a moment ago.  We fly for what seems like hours, weaving in and around violet rivers of cosmic dust.  I follow still.  Faster now.  Giant feathers start to shake before falling away.  Feather by feather the raven is dissolving, still on its course into the depths of space.  No longer a shape, no longer a wingspan, nothing more than a fluttering sheet of black feathers.  Finally it is gone, only the color remains, blocking out all the stars, brushing away the violet dust.  I am left with myself, nothing but darkness around me as I continue flying on the ravens course.

2011.12.13

In the process of formatting a new site theme.  All previous functions should be here and working on adding a few minor tweaks.  Gallery pages should already be working properly.

Some of the recent tattoo designs I created.  These are the stories about an Eagle and a Turtle.  Many thanks to Darren Hall @ Rising Tide for doing an awesome job transferring these to flesh.

-P

Some logo/package design for the new album just released by 19 A.D.D.  They are currently out on tour so check out the site and see if they are playing in your area.

-P

Beautiful dead things.

-P

I find myself sitting alone with my thoughts quite often, quite now.  Most of the time they consist of those things most common to humans and human nature.  Its mostly trivial I think, a thin flaky crust, a facade.  Directly beneath are the real thoughts,  the ones that really matter.  Sitting right there are the important problems in my world, damn them.  Shame there are never any answers there, aren’t supposed to be.  What is there are the questions, the right ones to be asking, and too often I don’t.

Over there is my favorite song, the one ive never heard.  I can hear it now, Its all I need.  Next to it is my favorite story, one ive yet to read, a few more i might write at some point.

I sit starting at everything around me watching all the other faces, surfaces.  I wonder which layer im looking at, if they forgot their masks, if im seeing whats really driving the machine.

I think about another story.  That love story I never finished, the one I used to read every day.  Still cant find the words to describe it, probably never will.  I think about her face, I haven’t seen it in some time.  I might not see it again.  She had a beautiful face and I never took the time to appreciate it.  She didn’t see me as she walked past just now.  Im not entirely certain I saw her either.  None of those were even questions and its not supposed to make sense.

These places are notorious for that.  People transitioning from place to place, life to life, moment to moment.  Busy busy busy.  I wonder if they are as lost as I am sometimes, traveling just beneath the surface.  Do they ask the right questions, hear their songs, remember their stories?  Wear a mask long enough and it no longer feels normal to have it off.

Why is the older gentleman sitting so damn close, leering at me over the rims of his glasses?  Does he know im not from here?  I sat here first in what was an entirely empty area, plenty of seating all around.  People are always strangely attracted to my vicinity, most always to my dismay.  As much as I try to create space in public, it eventually fills up.  I suppose thats the nature of space, always wanting to be filled.  Guess I cant hold that against it.

Heh, could be the attractive young woman that sat behind me not long after I arrived.  They tend to draw a crowd regardless.  If i don’t move soon one of them will start talking to me and it looks like the man sitting across is itching to stay something.  I don’t speak the language.

Sometimes things are just better without words.

Finally he looks away, then all around, down to his ticket as he pulls it from his pocket.  His plane is  boarding, announced over the speakers.  Saved at the last minute, that was a close one.

They all get up and leave…Now Boarding

Next stop?  If I give it a name now it will be something else before I get there.

2011.08.04

Yet another work in progress and getting more practice at the anvil.  That is until I can get a workshop of my own to finish all these blades.  This is a simple double edge dagger design, with a longer handle than usual (almost hand and a half).

Started out with some more recycled leaf spring.  This is already pretty close to the width I was planning for, so this saved alot of time.  The rest of the width needed was gained once I rough forged the main bevels.

In the fire, working on forging in the shoulders and tang.

After about 2 hours the main forging is finished and there isnt much cleanup to do.

Some quick grinding to smooth out the point, offset the tang shoulders and get some rough edges in.

Current size is 7″ blade, 1″ ricasso/guard, 6″ tang.  This should change slightly after all the finishing is done.

-P

Started working on a new blade, smaller version of the 3ft Dao.  This was forged from a Damascus/pattern welded billet (thanks Loren).

This started out as forklift chain, which was forge welded down to a 5″x1″x.5″ bar.

This was welded again with a twist and fold, then started shaping the blade.  This time I wanted to have a little scroll curve at the end of the hilt.

Grinding out the primary bevels

Forge scale removed with the wire brush and some rough sanding.

Dimensions are 8″ blade, 5″ handle, Still alot of work left with finishing the surface, heat treating and etching out the damascus pattern.

-P