Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

How long will we last?

There is a long history in English literature of satire and of the grotesque as there is in other countries in Europe. As an example of this see: A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland Being a Burden on Their Parents  sometimes knows as A Modest Proposal for Eating Children. The title is not popular for obvious reasons.


How long will we last
Frail species upon God’s earth

Assuming we don’t kill our home
In the meantime?

Well, let’s take a guess
Shall we

Anthropology tells us we are millions of years old
In one form or another

Can any of you see that far into the future?

I know I can’t

But I will say this

In all those years we evolved
Through a mechanism over which we have no control

And so it will be

We thing we are so smart; have control of our minds, have trained them
Since the Greeks of old
And you have to say, you and I, that we have done pretty well

Who will be the first man to traveel at the speed of life
For we can’t can’t travel faster than that

Einstein, one of our Scientific Gods says to
And who ae we, you and I, to say he is wrong

But, there is another Human God, Charles Darwin, whom many deny
At their peril, as were Flat Earthers and those who are visited deep in the night
When they are wearing their aluminium cooking foil hats.

We once thought that the Earth Ruled the Sun. But we been to the Moon
Though some doubt that. An awful lot of money to fake that.

The unspent money, put in the bank, would now feed us all for centuries to come
Now, come on, not to destroy World Hunger, I didn’t say that.

But Darwin, despite those who dispute, showed us how we evolved and how we will be

In time to come.

That we will evolve is an undisputable fact. Centuries of life are witness to that. Those who sit
at home swigging their beer, wedded to the fridge, have never sailed on the Beagle, likely do not know its name.

With no high school diploma you can’t know much
Never mind tomorrow when the Robots come to take us away
To where? A new found Bukenwald, perhaps

But if you listen to Darwin and study some of brethern around us from large to small:

200 to 600 tons I think we can see, unless you are a Flat Earther, or a Holocast Denier,
Worship at the feet of Ann Ryand and her like, you will know that, as we look down the microscope
And provided we can look and look and look in Hollywood style, we shall travel far further than can that man in his thing that travels so fast it is neither wave nor particle. Imagine that.

I know I can’t

How far down shall we go. Well, it depends. Just as our man who is both wave and particle – how would he look? Transgender, perhpas. Funny things happen under such circumstances. Fear of the unknown.

But return to Dear Charles before we get too carried away with our imagings. All those things we can see and cannot see, are us

They are in our body and the body of whatever form, some not. They don’t have bodies, poor things, Can you imagine such a thing.

I know I can’t
Skinned alive. We know that. All saw the movie? No? Hurry off now, break from these words and go see the mirror of us all.

Will our man on his joyride ever come back. To return and climb out of his contraption as both Wave and particle. Would we recognize him
I know I would not.

But our journey’s better. You don’t have to leave the Earth. You can peer into those downward looking binoculars and see futher than we can see into space

I am told there lies in our body there lie a thousand, thousand million – English billion in case you wondered – of those things you can see peering down
I rather look there. I am stood here, all 1 bn bits of me.

That figure, I am assured, is trivial compared to the number is trivial to that of the number in a six hundred ton whale

I can’t figure that

That is what controls us. That is what will make us during the course of the millions of years yet to come.

It is happening to you as you read these words – and even me who writes them – it is happening in your sleep and when you eat. And during whatever else you do with your time.

Can you measure that. So infinitely small that even Flat Earthers can’t see this movement we undergo every day with time.

And so, over the course of a million years or so, we will change. Will no longer grow beards. Cease to look like men or women or anything in between.

But you and I will be long gone. We will no longer have to read those abusive comments on the Web. Thank God to be freed from that. We’ll be off to a infitite sleep. Or whatever takes fancy or are told to beliive.

But if you are not sure, then ask a Flat Earther. He’ll know. Already knows. And he’ll already there.

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 31 May, 2018

Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Incognita Sperans – Incognita Sperans

For those of you who missed the previous posting.

Incognita Sperans

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 31 May, 2018

Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Oiling the door

Oiling the Door

The padlock is rusty from years of no
Cobwebs hang in the corners
The paint is peeling No charm

Scorched and baked to the naked wood
As you gaze you have a sense of years of
Having traveled within the infinitely of

Boss bee’n away for quite a’ time
‘Course I’m older now Paid anyway
Spick and span everyt’in has to be Polished like
Brand new pin

The padlock sawn A mangled mess
Keys stiff in the lock

Ea’se each slowly now Don’ rush
Plen’ty of time to get it

The keys ‘ll snap Teeth stuck in the lock

No breekin’ t’e door down
Won’t like

The door on a shove opens only a
Dark inside Black as the night

The smell grips the nostrils
Dogs’ teeth clamping on the hand
That tried to

No mould That component of
The olfactory potion is

Than’ God for tha’t
His Lordship
Ther’d be hell to pay for
I’ll close th’  do’er

The door squeals in pain
Like a cat with a

Burma mak’s a bloody goo’d oil
I’ll give tha’t ‘Bout


Lea’ve no’w Due in an
He’ll be pleased sure

Stand back A foot or two
More sheen than shine
The glory of the new

A’  I thi’n he’ll be
Good ma’  the
Kwo’n ‘m sin’ a boy

Stiff upright Hair
Insignia on the chest Wears that
When he’s in

This not a door, though, to house or abode
But one
Opens to the soul

Malcolm D B Munro
Wednesday 30 May, 2018






















Filed under: Arts, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Where we stand: Precursors to Black Empowerment

Where we stand: Precursors to Black Empowerment

When we are displaced either through force, circumstance or choice from our homes to another country we are separated from our cultural roots. Such a loss is great and impairs the ability of the immigrant to function is the adopted country, the host society.  Depending on the economic circumstances of the individual or family a generation may pass before the cultural barriers are overcome. Naturalization is a difficult often brutal process. The country now home to those who come here do not make it is and in some countries make it very difficult indeed. You decide for yourself where the US fits in this spectrum.

The long struggle and fight, still going on in the US, for Black People to be recognized as people and to be treated as equals by what have been their oppressors, White Americans, has precursors. By that I mean those who have been a part of this battle lie deep in the history of this mighty fight. For this battle has taken place in other places where, maybe, just maybe, it has been won.

Blacks in America have a steep hill, if not a mountain, to climb to achieve what is already theirs; their Rights due to them as Human Beings. Those rights are due equally everywhere by every human being on this planet. Those rights are denied Blacks. Blacks are not seen as equals, are not treated with respect, are not offered the full spectrum of opportunities that are available to others.

True progress has been made but it is far form me to say how much progress has been made. Far less to say how far Blacks have to go to feel and be treated fully as equals. It is true that black people are far more visible in public life. But to what extent. Barack Obama is a case in point.

But let it be said that doors should not opened such that positions are held by those who are not qualified nor competent to perform in those positions. The occupation of such positions needs be colour blind but there need be no requirement to accept to truly incompent. Should this occur we approach the situation of those countries where majority ruled governments give jobs to all their cronies. The effect of this on those countries is severe to the point of the country being reduced to sheer poverty, held hostage by a few kleptomaniacs.

But the doors of educations must be open and offer opportunities to the disadvantaged. Again these opportunities need to be colour blind. The disadvanted come from all walks of life and all communities. But again standards must not be lowered. Should they be the country suffers and a loss of prosperity results along with a loss of vigour. Worse still, a loss of competitiveness also results.

That is what the struggle is about, is it not? The right of at the very least equality with those who set themselves up as being superior to others, and who deny that right to those whom they see as different. And, through the adoption of this attitude, better known as prejudice, kill, massacre, suppress and colonize others for their own gain and pleasure.

In the case of this country, among other such acts, has been the enslavement of others, namely Blacks. Who were captured and dragged here in chains, and were forced to work in appalling conditions. The fight to set the negro free was a long one and not easily got.

The Civil War is still going on. The fight is still going on.

This is silly, ludicrous. Insane even. The colour that Blacks bring to American life lightens the life of us all. Blacks are unfailing cheerful. They seldom complain. And perform many jobs which whites refuse to do. OK, Blacks are not driven in the way that Anglo Saxons are. Theirs is a different view of life. They are not compelled to excel as Anglos are. Whatever excel means.. Blacks add immeasurably the vitality of the cultural mix. One or two or a tiny number of whites may misbehave, or act in some way that is out of line with cultural or legal norms. No harm comes to whites by way of disapproval, castigation, out-casting. But let a tiny minority of Blacks behave in this way, down to the tiny minor of infractions, and the whole of the Black community in America is put into disrepute. Blacks accrue a reputation which they do not deserve and none of whom did anything to cause this disapprobation. The black sheep in the flock damns the whole flock.

At root is a fear of assimilation. Of marriage across the colour line with a dilution of the community of white skinned people. Are there other causes? I don’t doubt there are.

What whites did historically to blacks was no less than a Crime against Humanity. In other places where such attitudes and conditions existed and some, still exist, there is, in some cases, a deep felt anger, resentment, bitterness which is carried over from generations. This is not the case with American Blacks. Little or no resentments exists over that population as a whole. In ghettos, this may be not true.

But in ghettos all over the world, there is anger and resentment at the conditions that the inhabitants find themselves in. Opportunities for such residents are far fewer than in other neighborhoods. Those neighborhoods and often civic authorities are negligent to the point of delinquent over their responsibility to the people who live in them.

What is required is nothing less than a recognition, an acknowledgement by the Government of these United States, speaking on behalf of the whole of the people of the US who are not black, that what was done in the past was wrong. Those who offer this need not and should not apologize but admit that what was done, either by the Original Colonies or within the contiguous 50 States. Actually both.

Until this day comes, America, however fine and special it thinks it is, will never be a country which is endowed with full dignity. When that day comes America will regain a dignity that the Founders Fathers had, and who wished all their hearts for every American have.

The Struggle will continue and must never be relinquished until such times as that admission is achieved. The presense of KKK and the NRA, and trigger happy Police who shoot to kill for whatever reason, or for no reason at, blacks, are indications of how far away is that day.

America has drifted a long, long way from those ideals, quite the finest the world has ever seen: exemplary and rightly lauded ideals. Who can say, here and in the rest of the world, that America, in 2018, is a fine country deserving of respect and good will.

Will the United States ever return to re-embrace those value? We’ll see.


Aimé Césaire was just one such person who deserves to be remembers and celebrated as a Brother who shared the Cause, that of Black Recognition and Empowerment. His place in that still ongoing struggle is no less than better known figures, better only in the sense that those who fought in the past get forgotten. And the Movement forgets and is not aware, as a result, of how deep those roots go.

Roots: The Saga of an American Family, by Alex Haley is one of few who have sought keep alive that Tradition.

Malcolm D B Munro
Tuesday 29 May, 2018

Filed under: Arts, Culture, history, Media, Music, poetry, politics, songs, stories

Incognita Sperans – Incognita Sperans, ελληνικά (Greek) – 2013

Incognita Sperans – Incognita Speras nελληνικά (Greek) – 2013

Malcolm D B Munro
Professional Fine Artist
Tuesday 29 May, 2018


Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Why Men Don’t Hire Women

This piece employs generalizations of necessity in order to keep it short and to the point. Generalizations are mostly true but not always.

Women play with men. Sometimes at the privileges men keep to themselves. They, the wives or girlfriends, whomever, manipulate them, the men, by using emotional language. Men do not know how to cope with their emotions. And, thus, men are, as a result, placed on the back foot. Men do not like this. They like to be the boss.  They get emotional by way of response and frequently employ behaviours which may include shouting and spousal abuse.

Men live their lives employing their intellect, and insist on being rational. And they are very successful at this. Very, very successful. All around us is proof of that. And that proof can be seen from the earliest times of human history.

Very few, very, very few, women enjoy being rational to the extent that many jobs require at higher levels. Nor do they care for the responsibilities that come with such positions. Women are caretakers. Nature intended that. It is build in. Therefore, for women, there additional barriers for them to overcome.

Unfortunately, when women, either through the drive and forbearance, set out to and achieve such positions, or are, through circumstances or necessity, placed, by men, in them, they frequently are hindered and displaced by men. Men, generally, cannot stand women being better than them. Or equal. And drive them out through bad behaviour driven mostly by jealousy.

Here is an example. When one of the men in this country was leading new, and demanding technology, he hired many women to assist him. Because they were cheap to employ. The positions required complex, highly detailed work of a mathematical kind. A surprising number of those women turned out to be so successful at the tasks they were asked to do, they went on to take doctorates in Higher Mathematics, some becoming world renowned. Those women are forgotten. By men, they have been rubbed out of the history books, and of public awareness.

Another example in case you missed the point just made. During WWII, in Britain, many women in their thousands, millions maybe, were hired into many fields which traditionally did not employ them; repairing war damaged trucks, building Lancasters, and the like, they proved very good at those tasks. Better than men sometimes. The men were out at the front being slaughtered by the millions. When those men who survived returned home, those women were turfed out of those jobs and sent home. And were told to stay there.

Men are providers. The fierce warriors who protect their homes, land and, particularly, their families. They are designed to dominate. Nature built all of this in, and it is inexorably the nature of men. Hence are fiercely competitive.

It is difficult to go against nature. But, due to the drive to build cities, to leave the land which we hunted and gathered on, we have been leaving our natural instincts behind. That is not reason to open the doors to women and allow them those positions should those women desire to, and work for them. Just as men have done.

However, for every woman who is prepared to take and stay the course required to achieve the positions referred to, we, us men, should make every effort to allow this and to do everything we can to support them,

At present, in such workplaces, men are hostile to those women who are their equals and colleagues. Those women are driven out by the jealously that men feel.

For example. There are women who have entered, who are in the field, and those who will enter in the future, the field of cancer research, who have, do and will in the future, excel in the field. To the point where some are world leaders in it.

Another example. During WWII, thousands of women, millions likely, were employed in demanding jobs, jobs traditionally held by men; physical labour, mending war damaged equipment, building Lancasters, and the like while the men were out fighting and being slaughtered in their millions. When those men whose survived returned home all of those women were thrown out and sent home, and were told to stay there.

Men have spent centuries subjugating women. And still do. For every gain women make in their stivings to achieve equality,  they are forced back and have to start again.

We are fighting against nature. We have placed ourselves in that positions. There is no rational reason why the door cannot be open to those women who wish to go through it. And having done so, we men had better break the glass ceilings.

At the end of the day, men are scared of women and hold them at bay. They do not see them as equals.

That is what women are fighting against.

Malcolm D B Munro
Sunday 27 May, 2018

Note: due to the fact that WordPress have removed the Save function, and refuse to restore it, these pieces are a little rough.

Filed under: Arts, Culture, history, Media, Music, politics, songs, stories

On the Popularity of Towards Better Democracy: Thank you

I have never been one to pursue or pander to popularity. I shy away from it and detest those who do. Work of whatever form should stand on its own merits.

I can’t say I am thrilled at the prospect of having few readers, but if one person only reads a piece I put up, that is better than none.

Recently I have noticed that the number of people who have adopted to follow the blog has increased dramatically. I say dramatically because, up to about a month ago, one or two people did so over the course of, let us say, a month. Last week something like 10 or more did so. When the blog was in full swing serving its original purpose, the number of followers was very high. In the hundreds. But the content was highly political and followers and visitors were commited to the subjects being discussed. There was a lively debate in the comments column. I will not under any circumstances tolerate abuse. So, such practices were completely absent from those comments and those who engage in filth and disreputable behaviour stayed away. Now I don’t get any comments and I am glad.

I put up music for the most part and no comment is necessary, either on my part or on the part of my followers and visitors.

I am gratified always at the geographical spread of those who visit and those who follow. I don’t much care to name names but I would like to mention one country, aside from the ususal countries that might be expected to be the home county of the majority of readers, and that is India.

For some reason obscure to me, Indians and I have a natural empathy between us which I feel every time I meet someone from that country. Quite something.

As is well known to those who follow the blog, I, from time to time credit and express my gratitude to the readers that take the trouble to come to the site or follow it.

Of course I would like hundreds of followers. But, in my view, I only merit such numbers if the content is worthy of those numbers. That I have any is something to be grateful for.

I never cease to be amazed at the following for difficult modern, wrongly termed, classical music. A great shout out to those who come to listen to those pieces. But you are all welcome. If you visit YouTube and listen to John Peel you will see what I mean.

I am a fervent follower of copyright and respectful of it so what I put up here is mindful of it.

I write quickly and have the attention span of a mouse – degrades mice, but never mind – so pieces that go up are often full of mistakes and sometimes incomplete. I have a dreafully wide range of interests which I conceal from the terrestrial population. Up here, who is going to be put out or have a creditably gap. Coming here is voluntary. And so I am hopping back and forth all day long. From this task to that and back again. For the most part I retain where I was. What I will learn is how to better husband my time. Not there yet, though.

But this is a blog and not a publishing medium. Were potential publishers to be reading I suppose I would put on a suit and tie to write. A black suit. It is not to inflict on you readers such bad practices. It is simply where I am at right now. And writing here is such fun.

Will what you see here get better. You bet your life it will.

Thank you, one and all.

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday 26 May, 2018



Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Two Nuns

It is Ireland, land of no snakes and the Shamrock 🙂  Green rolling pastures and hardly any trees.

The photographer has set up his wood – I can’t immediately find what kind of wood they used – camera. Tripod stand, bellows, which flop out like Punch at a Punch and Judy stand, a press plunger on a long, black amoured switch cable, and a large black sort of sheeting affair. The cameraman – he might even wear a top hat – plunges into this black sort of hanging cloak and reemerges to adjust the bellows. In and out. In and out. Fiddling with some kind of steel ring on the front of the black accordion type bellows.

Two Irish nuns stood to back of his studio are having their photographs took.

They are wearing the traditional black habit complete with white cowl. This envelops the head and wraps close to the face. They are usually of a certain age and usually wear rimless specs. They have some sort of swing thing hanging from their waists. Other accoutrements as well but we won’t worry about those.

“Whaut’s he tryign’ tae do, Sister?”

“Heee’s tryign’ tae focus.”

“Whaat, bowth of uus?”

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday 26 May, 2018


Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Telling Jokes in Public in the USA

If I am not smiling I’m in trouble. A side of me is so serious, more serious than a Hanging Judge. So I have to be light hearted from time to time. All work and no play maketh Jack a dull boy.

Two days ago, here at the cafe where office daily, a young woman came to sit next to me.

“Is this place taken.”

The table and bench place were clearly vacant and Americans are on occasion polite.

“Yes,” I said, “Ten dollars.”

After sitting down she replied quickly.

“At the other … (name of the coffee chain) its twenty dollars.”

I looked at her.

“It’s a joke.”

Americans don’t joke any more. Everything is so serious. The lawyers get called in when some celeb is offended some other well known public figure in public. So touchy. Pain in the a….

Shortly after that I called my printer in Los Angeles. I know the woman who answers his phone. She does admin or something.

We do our business and we chat. I tell her about my thoughts and the conversation I had just had, reported above.

“Oh, I love jokes,” she says. “I watch comedy central all the time.”

See. That’s not public.

Some time ago I reported the thought spoken of above and he said,

“They are all on the Web.”


Well, that’s dreadful. Deplorable. Life without humour is not life. It is an existence. Dull. Dull as ditchwater. I joke. Not all the time, of course. But often.

I have to be careful, though. I am given to teasing. It is the British way. Well, English anyway. I am not sure the Scots tease. I am careful not to tease Americans. They do not take it well. You get long faces of disappoval. I tell you, be warned. You do not voluntarily wish to be the recipient of an American long face. It is, to use their terminology, a put down.

In any case. Either way. I have to go to the bank. I am busy and use the Drive In. I hate Drive Ins and avoid them like the Medieval Black Plague. Whether for coffee or prescriptions pills or whatever else. Fast foods I don’t buy so you want see me at the BIG Mac.

I’m peckish so off I go to a supermarket which was local but has been bought by a VERY large Amerian chain – as much else – and purchase a ready cooked chicken thigh. $1.49. I’s saving every penny. Funds are low. At critical level. Shows red on the tank. Looking for a means of income. A job.

The chicken thigh, dear readers, is smaller than the size of a large egg. Not Extra Large mind you.

I say nothing to the person behind the counter. I had, after all, bought four pieces of fried fish at the same store from her four or five days previously. $4.00. Delicious. Yum, yum.

Off I go in search of some store person to vent in the politest way possible my disgruntledness. I was grumpy. I hate being grumpy.

I find a very large, tall black man, towers above me. He is wearing a black shirt and black pair of pants. The not mandatory uniform of the store. He is clearly is in charge of something – sweeping the floor, maybe. I’m not joking. I saw him doing it outside later.

I tell him my story. Of the minuscule piece of chicken thigh. The US used to such a generous place where food is concerned. And still is in some places. You can buy a New York sandwich that is so large and so generous that you cannot eat it all in one go no matter how hungry you are. You have to take half of it away. They will give you a To Go back if you ask – Americans never to used to do this – do TakeAway at restaurants.

incomplete and not yet edited

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday 26 May, 2018

Filed under: Arts, Culture, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

On Becoming a Professional Artist

During that period from when I began as an artist until some two or three months ago, I was a mess. I simply could not separate my emotions from my work, my art work. As long as that work remained in the private realm, by which I mean I showed to few people and did not make the art work public, I was fine. This is still true whenever I create a new work.

In the public area, my experiences and behaviors have been awful. Just awful. People didn’t much like me, were repelled by some of my behaviours and I, in public, have felt dreadful.

An example are the galleries and art fairs I have shown at. The exception are those who recognized the merit of the art and who as a result took me seriously, And I could feel that and felt comfortable as a result. Those who took a different attitude for whatever reason, treated me very differently and, I, as a result felt extremely awkward and acted accordingly.

Outside the art world I am well liked, even well liked, even adored, as I am here in the coffee bar in which I am writing this piece.

The Professional Artist I speak of means, in my mind, someone who is comfortable and assured.

The problem for now is that, as I perceive it, is that the art work I create is not to everyone’s taste. Digital art is still a new medium and there is a credibility gap on the part of the general public and with some of those who occupy the Art World in whatever capacity.

But is it not simply the art work itself. The state I speak of above results from the fact that I am not trained as a artist. By this I mean that I have little formal training. I did not enter art school and go through the rigours of the programme and emerge at the end as a trained artist with a degree or diploma in the subject.

Instead, I have taking art courses over the years, they add up easily to the course hours required of a degree progamme.

There is another factor though. And that is that I never took one of those courses with the idea of becoming an artist. For the reason that I had for one moment the talent to become an artist.

Digital art comes naturally to me. No effort is required in the sense of heavy lifting. I don’t grunt and sweat to create. I tell people that art is to me like water is to a fish. I have found my medium. Computer based art and I am very good at it, Very good.

The style is abstract. That is because I am deeply devoted that the abstract and am deeply affected by the art work produced by Abstract Expressionism in America and by the Constructivist Period of Russia and of Easter Europe. The work of these periods grip me like a religion might to someone else. I can’t say I worship them, but close to that.

There are many other art periods I admire greatly, and some particular artists whose work I admire deeply. Among these are particular favourites, Gustave Klimt and Edvard Munch.

I have never spoken publicly either in writing or to people I have met or to those around me who are close ot me in one way or another. I am devoted to the works of the two artists just mentioned. I am entering an area at this time of my life where I am revealing and expressing an abiding interest in and devotion to that has never been a topic of conversation with anyone.

Therefore I am writing this piece to explain what I mean, what I personally mean, when I tell those around me with any interest, that I am in the process of becoming a Professional Artist.

There are a number of strands or components to the process of becoming a professional. I know exactly what I mean by that. I know exactly what those components are, if you wish to call them that.

What I have not done up to the point of this writing is to articulate those facets.

There are many and one cannot mention them all. To do so would be tedious to both me and my readers.

And, I would say that these aspects are intertwined. Not in the sense that a vine wraps itself round a tree. But they are linked one with another.

One is simply connected to the process of becoming a fully realized person. An adult in every sense of the word. Mature, connected, aware, responsible, coherent and able to articulate clearly what one thinks and to express the views that one holds. Among others.

Another is that I feel limited, as an artist, by being restricted to the art work I presently produce. I have the conviction that I am capable of creating work which is compelling, distinctive and, above all else, will sell. I know that. I have an inner sense which is irrefutable. What form that might take I cannot at this moment say. I am in the process of exploring which of the many possible means, will be that, or those, that allow me to more fully express my creative powers.

At present I am exploring 3D software. Through 3D software one can create and place in the real world concepts that lie otherwise in the head or wherever I store these creative imaginings I have, in 3D drawings. The next stage, since the drawing is in 3D form is to use 3D scanning and the third to use 3D printing.

The softwares to produce the first are many. Overwhelmingly so. To give you a sense of these there are the more engineering oriented 3D softwares such as AutoCAD in its 3D form and Solidworks.

Now, as an engineering I never much used AutoCAD 2d. I had a rudimentary knowledge which allowed me to create drawings and sketches which I could hand over to design engineers – those who now use Solidworks or CATIA or some other very high end 3D design software. Mostly I used Visio which software I found I was adept at. With no training or even study of it, I could produce work, illustrations, which others could not despite their training in it.

I also used Illustrator, Pagemaker and other such softwares. Hence, since I created a huge amount of work during my long carreer as an Engineer I come to digital are fully capable and highly competent. But I use the very simplest of drawing softwares.

You see, the thing with me is that, given that I have a finite lifespan, given that most of that lifespan has already been lived, I am driven to get up to speed as quickly as I possible can.

For example, Adobe Illustrator has changed out of recognition from what it was when I sued it on a daily basis. So it is with Photoshop, which I have never used in the past.

In recent years, at least up to the point where I left Engineering in February 2015, I occupied executive positions within the Engineering world. Creating those illustrations and demonstration documents was now far in the past. The positions I held you might liken to the captain of a large ship, a cruise ship, if you like. I could never leave the deck; my presence was always required because the work I did was global.

You get the sense of where I was three years ago to the position I held in February 2017 when I began what is now my artist career.

However long ago was that work of computer generated graphics within my work as an Engineer, I have a natural disposition to it. I was able to created work that started people. No one could create anything like them. A manager, many of them quite senior, could in a very few words, tell me what they wanted and I would continually surprise them with the quality of the work, the speed at which I produce them and the way in which I chose to express their requirements. Almost always they were far beyond what they had in mind and far beyond anything they could have expected.

Hence my ability to create Digital Art, or Mixed Media as some in the Art World like to call it.

I feel that in many ways I have reached a plateau. It is this sense that has driven me to write this piece: to allow me to articulate where I am and where I am headed and the means by which I will get there.

It might be supposed that, in writing this piece I am talking to myself. That is not true. In writing publicly, as I am doing, I am sharing my thoughts and awarenesses with others. It is up to others, readers of this piece to decide whether they find it interesting or not.

As I have said I have a deep felt inner sense of what I want and where I want to go, And will go.  I know, have the deep felt conviction that I well get there and will achieve my goals. I know that. What I don’t know at present is how.

I don’t know, simply haven’t a clue at this stage where my endevours will lead me. I can only explore possibilities. For me the limitation, among others, is j

incomplete and unedited.

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday 26 Maty, 2018


Filed under: Arts, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

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