I’m not sure where to begin but I feel compelled to make myself and my reasoning clear here. For one thing it’s selfish. Writing helps to organize the thoughts; publishing them, as it were, makes them solid. Also if I disappear completely you, my readers, deserve to know exactly why. Lastly, and I know I will seem foolish for saying this, I believe my experiences are relevant to other creative louts trying to feel out the limits and boundaries of the blog form. I for one see no reason to simply accept that any endeavor in this sphere, by dint of being on the internet, is automatically beneath serious critical examination. I admit that ultimately it may be this outlook which causes me the most difficulty… but there it is.

So… If you’re not a regular, a fan, a family member, a friend, an N.S.A. agent, a stalker, or acutely interested in blogging as a creative pursuit, than my all means, high-tail it out of here. I’ll wait….

Alright by way of background information the most important thing you need to know to understand just exactly where I’m coming from going forward is this: Before I donned the diadem of “blogger” the one and only rank I might have claimed for myself, in accordance with my own self image and in good conscience, was “artist,” with all that the title implies. I went to art school, learned nothing useful, was instilled with an awe and respect for the old “weighty” and “serious” forms, painted, drew, doodled, and noodled constantly, took in the world with an eye colored by it all, and enjoyed many a short-lived delusion of grandeur while engaged in art making. The second most important thing to know is that I never found what it was I was looking for.

Armed with these two facts alone you ought to be able to extrapolate much of what is to come.

For instance: What do we know about most “artists?” Most artists do not make a living on their Art, that’s what. It’s damn near the only truth you can bank on in the maddeningly subjective world of Art. I am no exception. I am the Director of a graphics department within a fashion company. I am a pixel pusher, a graphic designer in league with the dark-side. It is a job which most people would categorize as “creative.” It does not, however, come anywhere near scratching the Art itch. Not for me.

When I use the term Art here understand I am not necessarily talking about a painting in a gilt frame or an 18 foot high pewter casting of a mosquito’s reproductive organs. I’m simply referring to that nebulous thing, whatever it is, which makes good use of the artist’s hands and satisfies the artist’s mind; That thing which, for a time, makes the artist feel like an artist. Art, as I am defining it here, might be, and often is, any damn thing. It might be 8 years of graphic design, printmaking, and branding for a fashion company. In my case, however, it is not. So like millions of other Art schnooks my life is necessarily schizophrenic. I must seek my satisfaction in the handful of days and hours when I’m not earning a living. 

All of which brings me, finally, to The Nonist.

I began The Nonist in 2003. At the time my usual modes just weren’t doing it for me. I was bored. I decided to create a website for two reasons. 1: to see if I could teach myself how to code and design a website. I’d never tried my hand at web design, never seen a line of html or css, and it seemed an interesting challenge. 2: I wanted to give myself a reason to write more. I’ve been a diligent journal keeper and letter writer since childhood and I knew having my words out there, where people might potentially see them, would begin a chain reaction of stubborn pridefulness which would keep me writing if only to avoid having my failure to do so on display. Beyond these I had no plan for The Nonist.

The undertaking succeeded not only in terms of the two goals mentioned above but also in terms of distraction quotient. It was new and compelling enough that my free time, my art-making time, was absorbed. The site made good use of my hands and satisfied my mind, and though I would never claim it was a piece of Art, it did serve many of the same needs.

That the site has been my main creative pursuit for a while now is undeniable. I’ve made very little physical work. This fact explains a lot about the site I would think- its eclecticism, its continual mutation, and its quality (such as it is) especially. What you have been seeing here all this time is someone following their (I can’t believe I am about to say this) muse, willy-nilly; Someone trying to elevate a commonplace, simplistic, trivial, and prodigiously widespread undertaking, into something rarified enough to feel an accomplishment. In short you’ve been watching what I’ve begun to suspect is the comically circuitous route of a fool’s errand. 

Were I truly successful in my career, which is to say, if my job satisfied my creative needs, I could simply blog as one ought- on a lark, for fun, as a more engaging evening option than hours of passive television watching. If I were a working author, a satisfied designer, or any other creative who drew a salary doing what he cared about, I could post an endless stream of easily digestible links, I could operate as a newsfilter excerpting stories day in and day out, I could write about how painful it is to watch the Knicks these last few years… as it stands, however, I need it to be more.

There are two obvious conclusions to be drawn- 1: my goals as a creator are not in line with the expectations of the consumer, so far as the blog form is concerned. 2: I ought to seek out more fulfilling employment. It would be the most direct way to make this all a moot point. I understand that. Really, I do.

In the meantime, however, I need to seek satisfaction wherever I can. I’m not sure where it’s to be found but I am fairly sure that it’s not to be found in a paragraph of outgoing links or in an unremarkable bit of off-the-cuff commentary on current events. One thing I am rock-solid 100% sure of is that in order to enjoy the warm satisfaction of being a creator one must actually create something; in order to feel the pride of accomplishment one need actually accomplish something.

Lest you think that I awoke one day with nothing but contempt for blogs and blogging I remind you of my little poll. I enjoy many aspects of blogging which is why the choices on that poll were all variations, to some degree, on the theme. Let me run down the options I offered and my thoughts about each.

• An only rarely updated blog of all original content.
This choice would in many ways be the simplest in that it would require no change. The architecture is already in place, as is the readership. I need only post when the urge strikes and I need not concern myself with filtering other people’s content and rehashing old news. But then, in that it requires no real change, why should I assume it would engender any change in my experience of creating it? The only benefit I can see for this choice is that it would free up time for other pursuits. But then I ask myself, “how could a blog which I attend to only while not attending to other interests be exceptional in any way?” I’m not sure it could be, and so why not just put all my focus on the “other interest”?

• A monthly or bimonthly web magazine covering eclectic subjects, possibly with multiple contributors.
This choice would seem to have many benefits. The first is that in reframing the content as a “magazine” or “journal” the perceived import can be rejiggered. (Though they are only words I believe calling the container for your content “magazine” or “journal” rather than “blog” can actually effect perception. Aren’t the expectations different? Might readers be more apt to actually read a longer piece? Might I not feel I were accomplishing more?) The second is the well known fact that scarcity adds value. The third is regularity. As opposed to the previous choice, this format would, at very least, offer the courtesy of regularity, which ought not be underestimated. Lastly, and potentially the most interesting benefit, would be collaboration. Working with others opens things up to unforeseen results, and there are unquestionably some talented people out there I’d enjoy working with.

The main problem with this avenue as I see it is that it would require a great deal of time and effort to do well. In many ways I’d be signing on to something very similar to what I have now, only more complex and time consuming and I simply can’t overlook the fact that true collaboration might be hard to find since it’s so easy to make your own site that most people, with something to say, already have an online undertaking of their very own. 

• A quarterly, printed on actual paper, which I would pay a few bucks for, could hold in my hand, and could read at my leisure.
Interestingly this choice is the one that appealed most to me when I wrote the poll. The act of doing something larger, longer gestated, better thought out, had something to do with the appeal but so too did my notions of value. I am a lover or printed matter and creating my own printed matter would certainly satisfy something within me. I could write long form fiction in its natural habitat. I could create artworks which existed outside of a server rack… Also, of course, there is the desire to measure yourself against the marketplace and try to earn some monetary reward for effort put in. As you can see from the results, however, this is the least attractive option to you, my readers. I can understand why and do not think any less of you for it. The result does, however, drive home just how divergent a creator’s and a consumer’s (no offense) goals can be.

• I’d be interested in any future projects…
This option was pretty much my escape pod. I figured if there were interest enough I could extend my status as absentee content-provider a while longer while I hashed this all out. You were very gracious in gassing up my pod and offering me a bagged lunch. So thanks.

• None of the above. I want frequent, short, easily digestible blog posts which I can skim on my lunch hour… and that’s pretty much it.
This choice was, in truth, not a choice at all. At least from my point of view. I put it into the poll as a control to see what percentage of readers would back-up the common wisdom about “successful” blogs that you see doled out everywhere. Seems that a solid quarter of all respondents do indeed want frequent, short, easily digestible blog posts for consumption on their lunch hour and the like. As I think this post has made sufficiently clear that aint gonna do it for me folks. With each new iteration of the site and each month I’ve moved further from that easily digestible ideal, trying to craft as much long form, original content as I could muster. Regardless of what happens a full-on link filter The Nonist will never again be.

Much of what I’ve learned about blogging, from the standpoint of a creative pursuit, reinforces my perception that the form, which includes as a subset all preconceptions and consumer habits, may be an artistic dead-end. (What people want from a blog may very well be exactly that which the form is best suited to anyway. Go figure.) There is the popularity contest aspect of it all, which, though it can be motivating and (when you’re on your game) gratifying, is ultimately a pretty flimsy reward. The strenuous act of clawing your way, through the hustling billions, toward the top, to the upper echelons, would be a whole lot more attractive a proposition, if there were anything at the top waiting for you. Even a cheap blinking sign saying, “you win!” From what I can tell though, here on my humble cliffside lean-to, there isn’t. There’s nothing up there. It’s a lot like life in that sense I guess.

I realize all too well that this whole thing may come across to many of you as either pompous and pretentious, since I’m taking the time to even write this many paragraphs on the subject of (pshaw!) blogging, or else damn near retarded, in that I ever entertained the idea that one could attain a modicum of artistic satisfaction in such a sphere. In any case, it’s my life so I have to care, and take it seriously. You, of course, have the luxury not to. Besides haven’t I always come across as pompous and retarded anyway? Why change now?

So good reader, if you’ve made it this far into this dry, meandering, intolerable mess of a post, let me at least offer you a compliment for your troubles. It is you who offer me the only semi-tangible artistic reward I have consistently gotten here: an audience (or dare I say it, a community?) So thanks. If I do indeed disappear off the monitor of the earth, I wanted to just say thanks for reading my years of drivel and looking at my digital noodlings. Thank you for commenting when you have, for discussing things with me, for emailing me your good wishes, and seeing fit to link me across the internet. It’s been a pleasure more often than not, and aside from the mere challenge of doing it well, you are the reason. A loving familial sort of kiss to you!

What does it all mean?

As it turns out I have not actually decided what to do yet, but I am also loathe to just pull the plug and set off in my escape pod. Separation anxiety I guess. In as much the plan as of now is to just say that I’ve chosen option #1 of the poll, “An only rarely updated blog” and go from there. I will be making back channel inquiries into both the idea of a web magazine (if your interested or have any ideas feel free to contact me), as well as feeling out my suicidal options for creating some printed matter of my very own. I’ll create new stuff for your reading and viewing pleasure when (if) inspiration hits and will certainly keep you posted on my next move.

Happy New Year!

Btw the title is taken from…

Click each for the full (front and back) “postcard” version.

Last year’s

Hope your loved ones and arch enemies will enjoy these.

See below for a sampling of these evolving objects and further quotes from Mr Mandel’s beautiful (though it would seem, out of print) book.

Iron scissors. Eastern Mediterranean, 14th Century.

2nd century A.D. Trabzon, northeastern Turkey.

Household Scissors. Italy, about 1550.

Persian Tailoring Scissors. 17th Century.

Tang Dynasty (618-907), 7th to 9th Century.

Candle-Trimmers. Italy, 16th Century.

Medieval Scissors.

Tinsmith’s Shears. Spain, 17th Century.

Viticulture Scissors. Italy, 19th Century.

Areca Nut Scissors. India, 18th Century.

Sugar-loaf Scissors. Brussels and Munich, 17th Century.

Shears / Detachable Blades. Italy, 1890.

Neoclassical era Italy or France, about 1820.

Decorated Steel Fretwork. England, 1875.

Calligrapher’s Scissors. Turkey, 18th Century.

Shaped like a stork carrying a baby. England.

Embroidery Scissors. The Romantic Age, France.

Cigar Cutters. Italy, 1915.

Egg Scissors. France, 1930.

Unknown. Housed at the Fairfield Museum.

It would seem that from the industrial revolution onward scissors returned for the most part to their previous state, as purely functional items. Most traces of decoration have been absent ever since, in favor of a clean-lined, stainless-steel functionality.

Unfortunately scissors seem to be one of those items for which there is very little said on the internet from an historical standpoint. Massimiliano Mandel’s book book then is a great resource. Most, but not all, of the images above were taken from it and it contains many more, including quite a few reproductions of the scissors’ first appearances in art and print. If you are a design buff be on the lookout for it.

Hope you enjoyed.

-

Note: to the best of my knowledge the scissors pictured above are housed in the following Collections-

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
The Fairfield Museum in Bothwell, Ontario.
The Giuseppina Gioacchino Collection.
The Museum of Archeology in Konya Turkey.
The Museum of Decorative Arts, Paris.
The Anita Gatti Collection, Milan.
The GBZ Foundation for Paleontological Studies, Milan.

I did, however, have a realization: these lists, taken as a whole, are nothing short of a map to the multiverse. If you subscribe to the theory of pantheistic solipsism that is.

If each fiction (or myth) created by a conscious mind represents an alternate universe then these lists are convenient run-downs of what to look for while traveling the multiverse. When inter-dimensional travel becomes common place these lists will be like a “hitchhikers guide to the multiverse.”

Then again, since the theory itself is fictional, created as it was by a science fiction author in his novels, it probably only holds sway in certain alternate dimensions. Which I guess is a good thing, since it means that the Fox network, the 80 hour work week, HMO’s, star fuckers, eating disorders, and every other unfathomable absurdity of modern life is likely not our fault at all, but the product of an overactive imagination in some other universe.

If we are, in fact, birthing alternate universes with our myths though I feel we ought to apologize. I’ll be happy to start. To begin with I’d like to apologize for Cthulu, Galactus, zombies, the Cylons, Sauron, and all of our brutal religions. So sorry!

There is, it would seem, a solitary archetype by which we can (and do) judge all else. When we seek to make a comparison, be it in the human particulars of mental state, physical prowess, emotional weight, or indeed in the broader strokes of the metaphysical, we can, without fail, single out this entity and be sure that any comparison drawn will be understood by our audience as suitably pointed and dramatic. This archetype would seem to represent the extremes of anything and everything. It is, essentially, the purest, most extraordinary, most weighty point of comparison available in human discourse; the pinnacle, evidently, of all namable qualities: the Muthafucka.

The Muthafucka has many names- the Mother Fucker, the Mother Fucka, the Mothafucker, the Muthah Fucka, the mutha fuck, and even, to those well acquainted with this monolith, the casual- Mutha or Mother.

Time and time again, in the mouths of the man on the street, the Muthafucka’s name is bandied about and celebrated as the be all and end all of experience. The Muthafucka far outweighs pretenders to the throne like “the witches tit,” “balls,” “the bag of hammers,” “hell,” etc. Muthafucka outweighs these and the rest of what I call the “hopelessly specific” by a sizable margin.

In the verbal coin of the land the Muthafucka is king.

Q: Is it cold out? Ask yourself, “how cold is it?”
A: Why it’s “Colder than a Mother Fucker!!”
Of course.

Q: Was that person you met attractive? 
A: “She/he was hotter than a Muthafucka!” 
Obviously. It doesn’t get any hotter.

Q: I wonder, how did you feel about Firefly being cancelled?
A: “I was madder than a Muthah Fucka!”
I’m sure you were but you’ll get over it.

Q: Did that movie frighten you?
A: “It was scarier than a Muthafucka!”
Indeed it was. I almost shat myself.

Q: How affected were you by that marijuana cigarette?
A: “I was higher than a Muthafucka!”
Fo’ real?

Anyhow, you see where I’m going with this.

The basic formula is as follows:

(Comparative adjective) + than a Mutherfucka!

It seems to work every time, without losing a whiff of its power. As a matter of fact, and this is a true oddity, even incorrect grammar works well. I might go so far as to say, if pressed under threat of physical harm, that the more glaringly wrong the word choice the more effective the Muthafucka comparison is!

Example:

Q: How was that yak testicle sandwich?
A: “It was gooder than a Muthafucker!”
Oh word?

How this “mother fucker” character, who would seem to be the manifestation of one of humanity’s last remaining powerful taboos, came to be so well regarded as to qualify as a unassailable counterpoint to every exclamatory comparison is truly a mystery. Perhaps the greatest mystery of the modern age. But I, for my part, am not too proud to offer kudos where kudos are due.

Whatever this entity’s true proportions, to rise so meteorically, against such seemingly stiff odds, this “Muthafucka” must be… well…
badder than a Muthafucka!