Green As Sky archives
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- ∆B|uRØ blog
- Anthony Luke’s Not-Just-Another-Photoblog Blog
- Bustler – unbuilt visions
- Illustration Art
- unurth street art
Every seed is awakened and so is all animal life. It is through this mysterious power that we too have our being and we therefore yield to our animal neighbors the same right as ourselves, to inhabit this land.
Sitting Bull via pantheism.net
Thoughts from a First Nations American about Trophy Hunting
As a Native American I want to say something, and this is my observation. My people hunt, and when we do so we do it for food only. We take no pleasure in taking life, we respect the animal. So I don’t hate hunting. I hate it when Westerners hunt. Because every photograph I see on this [trophy hunting] page does not show respect for the animal. It shows a typical American posing and grinning over the dead. That is not respect. Respect is not photographing a corpse, or taking pleasure from death… Mez Kitsu statement via Facebook
Bloodsport or blood sport …. the Cambridge Online Dictionary defines blood sport as “any sport that involves animals being killed or hurt to make the people watching or taking part feel excitement.” via Wikipedia Blood Sport
A canned hunt is a trophy hunt in which an animal is kept in a confined area, such as in a fenced-in area, increasing the likelihood of the hunter obtaining a kill. According to one dictionary, a canned hunt is a “hunt for animals that have been raised on game ranches until they are mature enough to be killed for trophy collections.” via Wikipedia Canned Hunt
In May 2007 a much-reported hunting trip involved the killing of a 1,051 pound pet pig in an alleged canned hunt. The pig was named “Monster Pig” by the media and it was believed that the pig was a feral hog. It was soon discovered that the pig, previously named “Fred,” had been someone’s pet and was then sold to a hunting facility only a brief time before he was killed. On May 3, paying customers Mike Stone and his 11-year-old son, Jamison, hunted him in a 150 acres (0.61 km2) fenced enclosure. Jamison shot Fred a total of eight times over a period of three hours. via WikipediaMonster Pig
After fending for itself in the wild for four days the pig that loving children recently fed canned yams to suffered over three hours from gunshot wounds and terror as he was pursued and slowly bled to death.
Comments by skeptical hunters included these on Cavechat.org:
And ten shots with a .500 S&W??? Anyone here own one of these handguns? I own one!! And I’ll be the first to tell you that if you need 10 shots from a .500S&W to put down a 1000lb hog, you have no business hunting. One shot would be ideal, two would probably be needed on something this large, and a third shot only in a rare instance. …. 100% Unimpressive. Adam Craig
[Folks] don’t like to be killed by enraged hogs…and though most [hogs] top out far below 1,000 lbs, even 600 lbs of angry chitlins isn’t anything to mess with. Teresa
Give us hearts to understand
Never to take from creation’s beauty more than we give,
Never to destroy only for the furtherance of greed,
Never to deny to give our hands for the building of earth’s beauty,
Never to take from her what we cannot use.
valor: great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle. Example: “the medals are awarded for acts of valor”
synonyms: bravery, courage, pluck, nerve, daring, fearlessness, audacity, boldness,dauntlessness, stout-heartedness, heroism, backbone, spirit.
A picador …is one of the pair of horsemen in a Spanish bullfight that jab the bull with a lance. They perform in the tercio de varas which is the first of the three stages in a Spanish bullfight. The picador has three main functions:
To pierce the muscle on the back of the bull’s neck in order to straighten the bull’s charge.
To fatigue the bull’s neck muscles and general stamina as it tries to lift the horse with its head.
To lower the bull’s head in preparation for the next stage.
If the public feels that a picador is overenthusiastic in his lancing they will whistle, boo or jeer as they see fit. This is because they do not want the bull to lose all its strength and energy as this can lead to a dull bullfight.
Years ago I attended a wedding whose vows included this Navajo prayer. The bride is now an active international advocate against human torture. Trophy hunters, measure up.
As I Walk with Beauty
As I walk, as I walk
The universe is walking with me
In beauty it walks before me
In beauty it walks behind me
In beauty it walks below me
In beauty it walks above me
Beauty is on every side
As I walk, I walk with Beauty.
Cecil the lion was lured to his death by an unscrupulous man who expected it would thereby guarantee him a prize. This man had been convicted of doing the same for a bear some years earlier. Hunters who kill in order to put food on the table aren’t hanging taxidermy on the wall. I used to believe that all hunting was wrong, but with what we now know about animals abused by agribusiness I think it’s better that the wild animals at least get a normal life.
Trophy hunting is the hobby of a wealthy enclave that assures itself that their deeds are not inglorious. That hiring a skilled hunter who hunts the animal embowers the ultimate shooter with glory. They believe they can buy valor. They can’t.
Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as they swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Chief Seattle of the Squamish
Though if my readers would enjoy blood ‘sportsmen’ skewered with words I suggest a novel and a very comic song.
• Carl Hiaasen‘s novel Sick Puppy begins and ends with canned hunts of imported African rhinos, which are a favorite activity of the book’s antagonist, corrupt lobbyist Palmer Stoat. I’ve rarely read a Hiaasen novel that didn’t get a guffaw out of me.
• Tom Lehrer’s wholehearted bullfighting song In Old Mexico may put you in a better mood. He’s a prime skewerer.
This infographic in Scientific American gnawed at me until I went back to study it. I ask you to look too. It’s divided into four equal parts in which a circle is centered and an oval superimposed on that. Why four parts instead of three? The information is separated into Not Territorial, Coastal Resources, Terrestrial African Environments. Why select a quartered circle to plot these against?
If a scientist used “ain’t” in a report it would leap off the page at you. But ill-conceived graphics? We don’t have enough fluency with them yet. Maybe infographic artists don’t either.
Giotto painted angels who looked like humans with halos and wings. Were they real? They’re real enough for Giotto’s purpose and for his audience lining the pews.
An infographic accompanies scientific data. It is ethically obliged to present that data clearly. Representing three categories as four obfuscates reality.
You may also enjoy my Pinterest board Fads in Depicting the Unseeable.
If you show people two objects and ask which is a bing and which a bong they can often agree. Theories have been spun to explain this but I prefer to believe they’re all inadequate and I dismiss them. My last post I Can’t Get There from Here spoke to the same dilemma: that an essential part of human beings knows things and communicates them without words. We can tell a bing from a bong.
There’s nothing logical here. And it’s delusional to believe that scientific method can investigate the nonlogical. A saw can’t do the work of a napkin. Rather, we must learn to experience our nonlogical gifts. We must use them as tools.
The tusks on a walrus are tools. Varied uses.
French anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss wrote about another bing and bong: the raw and the cooked, which he painstakingly defined. My apologies to Levi-Strauss but I’ve repurposed his terms for another use. In today’s world of free-for-all aesthetics and media I find myself wanting new terminology. Raw and cooked serve well.
Today’s post looks at contemporary jewelry which has jumped outside the velvet-lined box. Jewelers offer both sublime artistry and high tongue-in-cheekiness. Value is no longer just weighed out in carats and karats. A brooch can be made of cement, scrap metal or sea urchin quills. Cache is gained in the palaver a wearer can have about her jewelry.
To wordlessly illustrate raw and cooked in this fast-booming field I offer the work of two women artists, the Norwegian Liv Blåvarp — masterful woodworker, and the Israeli Deganit Stern Schocken who dares to dare.
Cooked: Liv Blåvarp
Raw: Deganit Stern Schocken
Two jewelry designers, poles apart. I’d wear either of these pieces with wicked delight.