Mark Holden - Working Artist

Into Infinity

mark — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 15:46:25 +0000

Thought of the day…. After watching “Waking Life”, which I watch at least twice a year, I realize that the dream I’m in right now is like a cloud that’s transporting me further away from me, and closer to the center of all dreamers; a form of dreaming communion….everything that is anything is something to someone…sometime and somewhere…into infinity.

Fog

mark — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 15:44:28 +0000

Fog…fog…fog….everywhere! We are living in a cloud, our vision limited, our perspective changed, our travel plans delayed, so kick back and float, make some art, read a great book, let the imagination match what the fog offers….mystery.

Why history repeats itself

mark — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 15:41:15 +0000

Do you know why history seems to repeat itself, because we’re it, and we record it, and we change it when the facts don’t add up to the truth. What is always true about us, is that we are untrue. Circular logic has always kept us occupied, because as a constantly bored species, we need to find repetitive and new ways to be productive. Thrill-seekers, meditater’s, prayer’s, isolationists, and criminals all have legitimate reasons for how to spend time. Workaholics need to realize that the reality they are involved in is self-destructive, and inevitably leads to withdrawal from the philosophy. Grocer’s stock shelves to see the product not disappear, Doctor’s treat patient’s like a drug addict, Teacher’s teach in fear of children with weapons…..I should say the real work to be done has nothing to do with making money.

Necessity

mark — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 15:56:45 +0000

Drawing can best be described as necessary for communication to exist. Images are words in disguise, and sentences are images in repose. Under-valuing the necessity of art is like putting a price tag on existence itself.

“Take Your Time”

mark — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 23:40:05 +0000

Every visionary’s greatest thing,

Is always worthless to the other,

Visionary’s greatest thing,

Is constantly scrutinized as fleeting,

Like the passing of one’s Mother.

One can reach forward or back,

Swing around wildly,

Treat others coldly,

But really never attack.

Take your time,

Others will pass you in annoyance,

Write down, draw, paint, sculpt the sublime,

Spend your life wisely,

Don’t waste your allowance.

Sponges

mark — Sun, 29 May 2011 16:48:38 +0000

We are all just sponges consuming and exerting energy, and because of this tedious condition, are continually bored. We create love, war, and lots of art to stay busy.

Male Empowerment

mark — Sun, 29 May 2011 00:55:53 +0000

Being that empowerment requires complete internalization…void of women…void of children…but not void of conflict…with ourselves, I thought it appropriate to show how pulling one’s self together requires just as much effort as pulling one’s self apart….endless self negotiation.

“The Path/ The Nature of the Beast”

mark — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 17:43:54 +0000

Three indistinct creatures found themselves lost between a small village, a grand forest, and the city surrounding it. Car horns, engines, explosions from violent guns and the men wielding them, could not be discerned from the flurry of tropical birds screaming at them to be warned. They walked steady to the sound of their own footsteps shifting, dragging, and scattering the dirt about them. As they approached the next corner of trees and rocks, which seemed always to produce more of the same, one of the men spoke softly to the other man, “Why didn’t we turn back when we had the chance? Now we will never find water for the village, and perhaps never return ourselves.” The cheetah striding by the young men, looked up and a secret dialogue filtered from within it’s brilliant, blood red eyes.

Several days passed and they were now resting in a clearing; no food, no water, just more of the path. In the evening, while sleeping, the cheetah had wandered off into the darkness of the impending forest. They had raised this animal since a cub, and were concerned for it’s safety in such a foreign environment. They had not seen it in two days, and on the evening of the sixth day of delay and rest, a vision appeared in the shadows of the night. It moved slowly, as if harnessing the power of the shadows, and felt it’s way close to the pondering brothers. The brothers were discussing fate, destiny, and spiritual hunger, and it was a deep conversation in a lonely place. As one brother turned to look at his sibling to elaborate on the power of real hunger, he was stunned to see the cheetah hovering over him. He was devoured immediately and savagely; all but the skull was stripped, ripped, licked and polished. Resting on the puddle of goo mixed with sand and dead weeds, the polished skull gazed upon the cheetah.

Morning came slowly, and the sunshine streamed across the face and belly of a lone man. One eye popped open, and then the other, and as he tried to stand, he realized he felt very full. In disgust and horror, he looked down at his stomach to see why. It was stretched completely out over his thin legs, like one hundred and sixty pounds of strawberry jelly in a gigantic balloon. The cheetah had disappeared, but he had a strange feeling that it would return; the hunger of the path.

“The Path”

mark — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 17:18:03 +0000

On a narrow dirt path wandered three creatures; all silent and invisible to the human eye. They had traveled the same path for as long as the path had existed, and had seen, and had been involved in all circumstances related to it’s history. Every step seemed to glide through time itself, as if it was being repeated infinitely. Not one movement in their trek wasn’t synchronized, so-as-to not disturb the molecules concealing them. Their silence held a power greater than even the strongest storm.

This path ran narrow; about four feet wide. Surrounding it was the infinity of the unknown; the unexplored, or the anticipated. It had been created by ancient artisans that knew the nature of nature, and the need for a portal through the chaos. Hundreds of stories are hidden within it’s course. Made of sediment, soil, grass, flowers, and sometimes trees and water, it appeared to humanity as just this. It always led nowhere but to a constant continuation to the next set of repeating landmarks. What humanity couldn’t see, was the passage of the deceased and the Pathogens designed to lead them off the path and into unknown territory. The stories that follow are accounts of humans that stumbled upon it, and the strange things that happened.

“Channels”

mark — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 23:15:54 +0000

It’s a possibility that movement itself is, by itself, the true force of nature and balance. Stagnancy only exists when movement doesn’t, so as moving creatures, we owe it to ourselves to keep moving. Boredom is the leading cause of mental and physical deterioration. Ironically, it’s this same concept that drives humanity to constantly outgrow or outpace itself, growing and moving at a pace that only leads to conflict and eventually war. Competition is what drives us, but it shouldn’t drive us into extinction. We are all channels on a power grid, and we all light up at different rates, and with different levels of intensity, but ultimately, it takes every channel to finish the circuit.