mental event

sumi ink on paper

acrylic on paper

Of course it all depends what you find most interesting, whether you prefer a action/adventure, a detective story, a western, romance, comedy, tragedy... Lohbado began with a failed attempt to describe what was going on by way of mental events. A mental event could be just about anything that comes to mind. A traffic light provides three types of mental events within the envelope of one. The traffic light is the event of making one pause to see which light is lit up. To know the meaning of one light involves knowing the meaning of all three lights, red, amber and green.

Lohbado frequently experienced the mental event of alternating clarity and confusion, sort of similar to light and shadow. Sometimes he'd notice something, but then his mind would sink back into a fog. Most often, a blur obscured his perception. A mental filter distorted things. A constant mental chatter sorted objects, people and situations into like, dislike and indifference, for me, against me or neutral... a whole set of self-based reactions.

micro-stories

acrylic on paper

Only if one constructed a grid could Lohbado occupy a certain place at a certain time. Lohbado's location, pin pointed on a grid, represented where Lohbado had been. The pin-point grid became the object of attention, while the actual Lohbado in an actual place vanished into the distortion and haziness of memory. The grid told a story independent of what may or may not have happened to Lohbado.

This is not an original concept. The word/object, thing/abstraction, particular/universal duality goes back thousands of years. Lohbado, in writing his memoir, invoked this tradition of paradox, translating it into the OOO CHA dialectic. This is the real memoir. Every day he changed his socks and underwear, ate, performed bodily functions, showered, slept, trimmed his beard and thin hair.

In writing, Lohbado assembled micro-stories. For example, Lohbado walked into a cafe, ordered a coffee and began reading a book. He looked up, made eye contact with a woman with dark eyes and grey hair for a few seconds. She gazed at him, or rather beyond him. A waiter cleared the table next to Lohbado. Another woman, in her early fifties, sat down. She worked on a crossword puzzle.

Lohbado enjoyed being in the cafe.  He couldn't help but compare his cup of coffee to life. As a boy, life appeared like a fresh cup of coffee, like it would last a long time. As a man, he enjoyed the coffee. At the age of sixty, there wasn't much coffee left. Soon he would die and it would be as if nothing had happened... the old form/emptiness sutra. Lohbado laughed quietly. He watched a man take a key from the counter and head off to use the toilet.

Eventually Lohbado finished his coffee and left. There you have it... a micro-story....

give the cat some water

click here or on picture to see youtube video

now

acrylic on paper

When the writing of his memoirs became too difficult, Lohbado turned to images. At a loss for words... shapes replaced grammar. With a variety of line, shape and colour, Lohbado worked on his memoirs, until words happened. Every story involves a sequence of before and after. In between before and after, now pulsates. Each now becomes then at the moment it occurs. Once you even say the word now, it's already past. Each picture saved Lohbado a thousand words. As the pictures piled up, Lohbado's memoirs took shape.

Most of now is barely noticed and will be easily forgotten. It will be as though now never even happened. After you die, all that remains is a few distorted, fading memories among a handful of people. What did you expect? Were you hoping for a monument? What part of yourself would you like immortalized?

towel story

Put yourself in someone else's shoes

The importance of a clean towel can't be over emphasized

Lohbado didn’t know how the bugs got into his apartment. Not bed bugs...  he found flat shiny green things. At first it looked like part of Jane’s necklace. Lohbado looked closer. Three dead bugs on a hand towel on the floor... he should have hung the towel to dry, then maybe bugs would never have entered his mind. Too late... three shiny green bugs on a damp towel, Lohbado put the bugs on a plastic lid and hung the damp towel on a hook in the bathroom.

Lohbado point and shoot photography

Rows of rectangular florescent lights, windows from the building across the street reflected in the window, red drapery, plus the clutter of white foamy type pillows and a stack of yellow boxes, Lohbado took a picture. A man came running excitedly out of a shop. What are you doing? I'm taking a picture. Why are you taking a picture... the routine. Anyone who takes photos will eventually run into paranoia... Lohbado explained that he likes to take pictures for fun. The man frowned and went back inside. Lohbado continued taking pictures.

black cat