ASSESSMENT 1 Task 3:
Final Blog Post, Sree Friday 1:30PM, s3646603
Summarise blog
posts that most demonstrate your learning & ideas of intercultural collaboration
Through this brush
stoke of words;
we’re led to sensations and empathy…
the reasons for artists and authors.
we’re led to sensations and empathy…
the reasons for artists and authors.
Rhys
Westbury
Yearning
to elevate emotional expression is my jam. The basis of creative communication
is based in the natural counterpart of cultural collaboration – that is
mirroring life lived from an external force. I channel poetic insight into
delicate attention placed in the way I feel about working in and around other
peoples’ lives.
I pay respect to them.
I yearn to learn, and more -- do you feel what I feel – the reciprocal emotionality and rapport we find true to ourselves and combustion created when it’s processed inside another heart, listening, responding, and beating with our ideas and our quest to get a deeper sense of who we all are each and every way, out there ~ and in here ♡
A person from the classroom marked the start of my internal intuition. It begun by a spark, we played the game of getting to know each other on a basis of opaque self-revelation; crafting smokescreens to our authentic selves rebutted by language and twisted answers. Her name was Ellen – I could imagine so much more for this person that lay just a syllable away from me – ever so intrigued by the mystery of it all. Magic-making and poetry-shaking.
The process of finishing up our respective mish-mash spoken follies enabled me to play the game further in my mind of who I thought she ought to be… which is the precursor to many of my blog posts entitled intention – to make me the maker of these fates, laying ever so open to interpret – re-place the fact with the fiction of their vibrational signal to me. As if a quick nod, tickle, and wink to the layers revealed to me in my quest for questioning alternative versions to drab answers always asked in mundane interviews… instead it were questions such as these: if you’d change your position here, where would you place yourself… do you write in the morning… do you wonder about the world…? And from these simple positioned abstract engravings onto the persona that sit across from me I received a subtle airwave as to what she thought of herself – lending me license to write, “While up high, kid once broken, crumbles underneath the sky, if you hadn’t spoken” in the Confetti Cotton Cloud piece.
These quality insights I gleaned from her emotional response to my alternative quest to fox around her side-stepping direct clues to her true self.
Therefore, intuition comes at us in a velocity, or momentum, of coinciding with true selfhood covered by masks we wear for first impression encounters sake.
My next foray into intuiting became quite conflicting in the interviews of two disparate people who I choose not to name in my works or here in this reflection. Given the directive nature of question/answer type forums, a lot can be missed by simply asking the wrong questions. I alluded to outlining open questions to gain introspective insight into these nameless people’s mannerisms, conjured hopes and attitudes, reminiscing catching bubbles as children, which nuanced richer and more sincere elements to their character.
I began the work of the first interviewee with a very gung-ho approach to pioneering his answers in an insistence to reveal latent feelings of his own mother. His affection shone through the work’s metaphor, “my wings only fly me to you” which emphasised a cerebral respect to speaking of his mum’s nest, having cradled him before his flight into adulthood.
The later recipient of an entertaining collusion occurred over the counter at my workplace where I met a person with a kind set of eyes, wearing a suit, and a smooth confidence and charm masquerading his insides with an outer persona. I decided to get him to open and speak not just token insights into his lawyer-life framework, but also how he feels when he leaves the front door and looks up outside the first time each day. He noticed my dedication to uncoil his enwrapped guard through subtle hints as to how he regarded himself now as barrister, working in a suit shop on the weekends, and would he know how to notice any changes in himself. He was swanning in delight at the first mention of his eclipsing title that sounded monolithic in stature, which is why I decided to go on with him without a need for a name. ‘Say No More & Do No Less’ is harbouring his title in the assurance that he knows himself beyond that, but perhaps nobody else outside of his Guardianship for better or worse knows him at all. I took this to mean to could elicit poetic romanticising to the notion that his entrance;
these little slippers slide
under your elegance
deciding to strive.
Happiness floats but over, but deceives
deeper holes - frisked by spades
Guardian always leaves
you to dig out graves (excerpt) pertain significant approaches to see behind concealing panache. Through the purpose of orating the person’s unyielding expose of all details into their inner life – feelings and mirroring a receptive flair for empathy distinguished the split interviews I decided to take on in a companion piece that offered alternating perspectives of inner-life for these two men, who remain unnamed but not undetected.
Lastly, a beautiful heartland focus I thought would be evasive and even more difficult to deliver turned out to be the most fascinating escape taken yet. ‘Rouge Road’ has situated itself inside my mind as a clear emphasis on the power of passion in writing for people’s hearts – and laying claim to this inspiration to a Hong Kong student collaborator called Wincy. Alas, Wincy inspired the succession of poetic prose I ordained in creating a consistent essence nuancing herself in a fictionalised interpretation of her life to be, or not to be, but all that matters is that it is in my mind and in my heart for her. I found a deeper communion with this girl in that I longed to see her shine out in ways that might seem fantastical and unreal. For a student budgeting to adventure overseas one day, I needed her place and time to be as real and reachable as it was in her own dreams she spoke of in our conversational outpour, “I want to go here, and I want to see – see it all!” and so I gave her a big embrace to this want and wish for desiring to be a traveller. It’s called Rouge Road because Rosie Rouge’s mother danced till red-faced and enlivened to implore the child to dream. Daring to cross thresholds to her truest potential, Rosie Rouge is an enthusiastic, dramatic, and flamboyant leader created to better understand that, “gone will you be” is an apt, heartfelt, human desire… To lose ourselves in this dance to find who we are.
End Tale.
I pay respect to them.
I yearn to learn, and more -- do you feel what I feel – the reciprocal emotionality and rapport we find true to ourselves and combustion created when it’s processed inside another heart, listening, responding, and beating with our ideas and our quest to get a deeper sense of who we all are each and every way, out there ~ and in here ♡
A person from the classroom marked the start of my internal intuition. It begun by a spark, we played the game of getting to know each other on a basis of opaque self-revelation; crafting smokescreens to our authentic selves rebutted by language and twisted answers. Her name was Ellen – I could imagine so much more for this person that lay just a syllable away from me – ever so intrigued by the mystery of it all. Magic-making and poetry-shaking.
The process of finishing up our respective mish-mash spoken follies enabled me to play the game further in my mind of who I thought she ought to be… which is the precursor to many of my blog posts entitled intention – to make me the maker of these fates, laying ever so open to interpret – re-place the fact with the fiction of their vibrational signal to me. As if a quick nod, tickle, and wink to the layers revealed to me in my quest for questioning alternative versions to drab answers always asked in mundane interviews… instead it were questions such as these: if you’d change your position here, where would you place yourself… do you write in the morning… do you wonder about the world…? And from these simple positioned abstract engravings onto the persona that sit across from me I received a subtle airwave as to what she thought of herself – lending me license to write, “While up high, kid once broken, crumbles underneath the sky, if you hadn’t spoken” in the Confetti Cotton Cloud piece.
These quality insights I gleaned from her emotional response to my alternative quest to fox around her side-stepping direct clues to her true self.
Therefore, intuition comes at us in a velocity, or momentum, of coinciding with true selfhood covered by masks we wear for first impression encounters sake.
My next foray into intuiting became quite conflicting in the interviews of two disparate people who I choose not to name in my works or here in this reflection. Given the directive nature of question/answer type forums, a lot can be missed by simply asking the wrong questions. I alluded to outlining open questions to gain introspective insight into these nameless people’s mannerisms, conjured hopes and attitudes, reminiscing catching bubbles as children, which nuanced richer and more sincere elements to their character.
I began the work of the first interviewee with a very gung-ho approach to pioneering his answers in an insistence to reveal latent feelings of his own mother. His affection shone through the work’s metaphor, “my wings only fly me to you” which emphasised a cerebral respect to speaking of his mum’s nest, having cradled him before his flight into adulthood.
The later recipient of an entertaining collusion occurred over the counter at my workplace where I met a person with a kind set of eyes, wearing a suit, and a smooth confidence and charm masquerading his insides with an outer persona. I decided to get him to open and speak not just token insights into his lawyer-life framework, but also how he feels when he leaves the front door and looks up outside the first time each day. He noticed my dedication to uncoil his enwrapped guard through subtle hints as to how he regarded himself now as barrister, working in a suit shop on the weekends, and would he know how to notice any changes in himself. He was swanning in delight at the first mention of his eclipsing title that sounded monolithic in stature, which is why I decided to go on with him without a need for a name. ‘Say No More & Do No Less’ is harbouring his title in the assurance that he knows himself beyond that, but perhaps nobody else outside of his Guardianship for better or worse knows him at all. I took this to mean to could elicit poetic romanticising to the notion that his entrance;
these little slippers slide
under your elegance
deciding to strive.
Happiness floats but over, but deceives
deeper holes - frisked by spades
Guardian always leaves
you to dig out graves (excerpt) pertain significant approaches to see behind concealing panache. Through the purpose of orating the person’s unyielding expose of all details into their inner life – feelings and mirroring a receptive flair for empathy distinguished the split interviews I decided to take on in a companion piece that offered alternating perspectives of inner-life for these two men, who remain unnamed but not undetected.
Lastly, a beautiful heartland focus I thought would be evasive and even more difficult to deliver turned out to be the most fascinating escape taken yet. ‘Rouge Road’ has situated itself inside my mind as a clear emphasis on the power of passion in writing for people’s hearts – and laying claim to this inspiration to a Hong Kong student collaborator called Wincy. Alas, Wincy inspired the succession of poetic prose I ordained in creating a consistent essence nuancing herself in a fictionalised interpretation of her life to be, or not to be, but all that matters is that it is in my mind and in my heart for her. I found a deeper communion with this girl in that I longed to see her shine out in ways that might seem fantastical and unreal. For a student budgeting to adventure overseas one day, I needed her place and time to be as real and reachable as it was in her own dreams she spoke of in our conversational outpour, “I want to go here, and I want to see – see it all!” and so I gave her a big embrace to this want and wish for desiring to be a traveller. It’s called Rouge Road because Rosie Rouge’s mother danced till red-faced and enlivened to implore the child to dream. Daring to cross thresholds to her truest potential, Rosie Rouge is an enthusiastic, dramatic, and flamboyant leader created to better understand that, “gone will you be” is an apt, heartfelt, human desire… To lose ourselves in this dance to find who we are.
End Tale.
http://maverickpotion.blogspot.com/2018/09/assignment-with-sidney-milestone-three.html
http://maverickpotion.blogspot.com/2018/08/confetti-cotton-cloud.html
http://maverickpotion.blogspot.com/2018/10/say-no-more-do-no-less.html
https://maverickpotion.blogspot.com/2018/10/rouge-road.html
