Tuesday, September 30, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº63



How many a budding plant is born to fade!
How many a May bloom wilt with quick decay!
Ofttimes the ruddiest rose holds briefest sway,
While heart and sense are evermore betrayed
Alike in nature's shine and nature's shade.
Vainly earth-tendered seeds have sought the day,
And countless threads of rivulets wind astray,
For one that joins the vast main unembayed.
O prodigal nature, why this spendthrift waste
Of light, strength, beauty given to earth or man?
Thy richest realm may lie in trackless seas,
Thy tenderest loves, perchance, die unembraced;
While faith and reason watch thy wildering plan,
The baffled soul's cloud-compassed Hyades!

Paul Hamilton Hayne, "Waste".

... And a late addition, a funny version of Deb's desert :-)

Monday, September 29, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº62



The world is crossed at sixes and at sevens,
Athwart with love.
Behind their crystal bars
The silver stars
Ache in their separate heavens,
And only these
Dear human hands on earth have ease.
To-night indeed I pity the poor trees
Even in the grove;
For though their branches mingle,
Inwoven and crossed a moment by the breezes
Each is forever single.

Philip Henry Savage, poem named after the first line.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº61



Evolution is a change from a no-howish untalkaboutable all-alikeness by continous sticktogetheration and somethingelsification.

Thomas Kirkman, a parody of an original quote by Herbert Spencer (out of the First Principles, p. 291).

Saturday, September 27, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Wing

Come to the edge.
We might fall.

Come to the edge.
It's too high!

And they came
and he pushed

and they flew ...

Cristopher Logue, "Come to the edge".

Friday, September 26, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - The celebration of the cone

Thanks to you, friends, for your encouraging words and kindness.

Alright, I'm back with a declaration, and the help of Charles Bukowski.

One day the cone will be praised as the admirable form and force of the whole Unielse! (the alternative universe where we worship the most irrelevant things relating them to the most important ones) and that day... ...Yeees, I'm deluding; but Long Live the Ice Cream Cone! Bukowski gives sense, down below, to my delusion.



too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
"no."

Charles Bukowski, "the crunch".

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Kind of awards, awards of the kind

On the while that the blog has been down I got a couple of those awards that bloggers give to other bloggers.
It was Vikram the one who awarded me these two:


Brillante Weblog 2008.


Blogging Friends Forever.

So now, to keep the tradition I must pass this on.

Following the rules for the Brillante Weblog I choose the requested seven:

Megan, her intense personality makes every reading special.
Christina, her deep artistic writing makes me think the new generations are very bright as I've not seen in any other.
Tai, my most visited blog; a very creative writer.
Katie, her blog is very real, an extension of herself, a seeker of the truth. She commited the mistake of posting some of my work too.
Russ, his deeply spiritual personality and blogs are very worth a periodic visit, I've used a couple of his works here, being the only alive writer I've used on this blog.
J. Gottschalk - best fractal artist I know for now, her hybrids are very cool.
Trée George (his blog was, meritoriously, a Blogger Blog Of Note award some time ago) - exquisite and inventive.

Following the rules for the B.F.F., I give the requested 5, including one new to my blog.

Amber, my friend.
Deborah, I eagerly wait for her posts: post more often!
Nadia, my favourite in spanish.
María, she posted some of my work to illustrate poems in spanish.
Nina, she blogs about her inner life and about autism.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Blog inactive due to lack of resources.

Tonight, the night of september the 8th, I came back to my house from work and found that people broke into my house and stole some goods out of it while I was working. Could have been during the morning, afternoon or night, because I'm some kind of a workoholic animal, of some sort. One of the things stolen was my laptop with all of my visual artworks since 2003 plus the programs I developed for generating images using genetic algorithms and L-Systems, my ex-professors in university have one of the last backups, so I can recover one of the last versions of my programs, but not the last improvements, nor my images or artworks, not the ones that I made and didn't posted yet, they are around 15, possibly lost forever.  Again, the most painful thing to lose are my "seeds", all the math data of every image, from where I evolve the next generation, last time I lost that was because of a disk failure, in 2007, now this.  I use to forget backups, because I'm an airhead.
I also lost pictures, videos, schedules, grades and sheets from my students, etc. and my e-mail database with all my e-mails and phone numbers since 2002, so if you are one of my contacts, bare with me until I recover all the data that I can, may be I'll ask you some data yet, if I can find you. Aside from that I'll have to be using a freaking web-mail interface for work, which I hate because I prefer an e-mail client, and will not have any history of previous e-mails, but well: being robbed sucks.

The blogs will be inactive until I can work on this somehow, and restart producing images. This is a space that I appreciate a lot and eventually, I'll be back somehow.
Until then.

Monday, September 08, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº 60



"Nothing is so aggravating as calmness."

Oscar Wilde, "A woman of no importance", Act II.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº 59



Those who believe in abstract painting seem to me like weavers who think they can produce a material with threads running in one direction only and nothing to hold them together. When you have no plastic intention, how can you control and make sense of your representational liberties? And when you are not concerned with reality how can you control and make sense of your plastic liberties?

Juan Gris, letter to Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, in 1919.

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Abstract Nº 100

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost, "Fire and ice".

Friday, September 05, 2008

Abstract Nº 99



Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Willy, Sonnet 60.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Abstract Nº 98

I'm slightly proud of this one in particular, and the link that I want to see with the poem.



I'll tell you how the Sun rose —
A Ribbon at a time —
The Steeples swam in Amethyst —
The news, like Squirrels, ran —

The Hills untied their Bonnets —
The Bobolinks — begun —
Then I said softly to myself —
"That must have been the Sun"!

But how he set — I know not —
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while —

Till when they reached the other side,
A Dominie in Gray —
Put gently up the evening Bars —
And led the flock away —


Emily Dickinson, 318.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

3D Genetic Algorithms - Abstract Nº 58



Here is a symbol in which
Many high tragic thoughts
Watch their own eyes.

This gray rock, standing tall
On the headland, where the seawind
Lets no tree grow,

Earthquake-proved, and signatured
By ages of storms: on its peak
A falcon has perched.

I think here is your emblem
To hang in the future sky;
Not the cross, not the hive,

But this; bright power, dark peace;
Fierce consciousness joined with final
Disinterestedness;

Life with calm death; the falcon's
Realist eyes and act
Married to the massive

Mysticism of stone,
Which failure cannot cast down
Nor success make proud.

Robinson Jeffers, "Rock and hawk".

Monday, September 01, 2008

Abstract Nº 97

Were it not for
the excess of your talking
and the turmoil in your hearts,
you would see what I see
and hear what I hear!

Muhammed Ibn 'Arabi, "Turmoil in your hearts".


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