Tilting On The Edge Of A Rock In Flight

Napatchie Pootoogook
Inuit Artist
"Boy Feeding Birds"

****This post originally appeared on December 31, 2005. It felt like the right time to bring it back out (you'll notice the old reference to Pete Townshend's "The Boy Who Heard Music.)****

Poetry and Essays by Autistic Writers.

Some do not speak. Some do. Some type or write without assistance. Some don't. Some communicate to us through other symbolic means such as paintings, musical notes, a small squeak of voice, or a simple touch. A pervasive theme amongst such souls is the feeling of being on the outside looking into our world. And the view can be traumatic to the gentle natures of such sensitive ones. Poets, artists, philosophers, prophets have intuitive understanding of autistic natures because they share the same thread in Spirit. And more often than not, they are one and the same. What we forget is that we all share common threads in that same Spirit. Peace can come to the hearts of all people when we can stop viewing the differences in others as something offensive and in need of adjustment. Our artists, poets, philosophers and prophets come here to teach. What we see in those differences quite generally reflects back as a mirror to what resides in our own hearts and souls. I believe many come into being in odd packages to get our attention. The Who artist and author Pete Townshend once penned, "If I wrote music that reflected you, why would you assume that you needed to like it?" Mr. Townshend is writing a novella called "The Boy Who Heard Music." Flying is a frequent theme in the novella. This "flying free like the birds" theme permeates the art, writings, and music of many artists and autistics [again --- often one and the same.]

Yesterday, while thinking about how we "throw rocks at" or symbolically stone each other to death, I happened upon a couple pieces of artwork that well reflect the "outside looking in" theme. The deeper autistics often describe being on this Earth as akin to straddling a line or fence between the World of Soul and the World of Material. And often, this "middle place" where we all reside has been compared to a hellish world. And can you blame them? Really? How many times have any of us pointed a finger and snickered at a "retard" or thought "oh! there but for the grace of God go I." How about "there because of the grace of God goes a Teacher." And we truly cannot judge what is on the inside by the "covering." Salt and Soul of the Earth.

The rough pencil drawing [below left] was done by an autistic child. The author and date remain unattributed. I looked at this autistic child's drawing and immediately thought of Todd Goldman's "Boys Are Stupid - Throw Rocks At Them." The young artist called his work simply "A Boy On The Fence." Looks like some rocks were being lobbed at his head, eh? The position of the boy hovering on the fence looks like a bird preparing for flight. Todd Goldman made an empiric fortune out of throwing rocks at boys. My challenge to Todd, from yesterday's post, stands firm. Maybe he flew the coop? :o)













Throughout the Ages, BIRDS have been viewed as harbingers or messengers and the mediums between Heaven and Earth, by an astonishing number of transcultural groups. Is it any wonder that so many autistic and artistic souls speak the language of birds?

Some writings and images felt to be important in understanding:

Bird Boy by I.E. Clark:
This tale of a lonely boy who is willing to sell his soul to be one of the crowd is terrifying. Little Wolf is weak and scrawny in a culture that exalts physical prowess. The chiefs and the warriors scoff at his ability as an artist and poet. In desperation he trades his soul to the Great Eagle in exchange for the strength and ability to fly, and he seeks revenge on those who taunted him. When a pack of hungry wolves attacks the village, he offers to save it if the tribe vows to worship him as a god. But he discovers that power doesn’t bring friends or love.

GALLERY~ Peter McFarland
"Bird Boy"




Artist’s Statement -- Peter McFarland:
My art explores the human experience in visual images. How does one make pictures of exquisite gentleness or of irrational anger, as perhaps can only be seen out of the corner of ones eye? How does one portray the innocence of a child or a world gone mad with violence and greed?

Something in my nature as a young man prohibited me from participating in formal art education and I have had to rely on my own initiative to solve the problems of how and what to paint ...
... Because I operate from a personal set of rules, my work can be difficult for people to experience and or understand ...



....The use of intuition, by and large, dictates what and how I paint. There are no clear decisions about what I do, instead, I wait for an idea to feel right and it is in the nature of intuition that it forbids exact definitions. This makes it difficult for me to explain the meaning or intent of these paintings.

Behind our eyelids, in our dreams, or memories or during extraordinary moments in our lives, we experience a range of complex feelings, without our having an explicit understanding of them. It is here in a kind of other world of shared subconscious experiences that we may meet and recognize our commonality. In light of this, I want my paintings to be considered on two different levels, one simple, obvious and on the surface (the narrative or story) and one hidden, elusive and subjective (the experience of viewing). My art may be depictions of bizarre events and have merit simply as that, but I also believe that it should speak from a place without words or recognizable symbols, from beneath the narrative.

Mr. McFarland ends his 'artist's statement' with words that I feel are most important when approaching our thoughts and feelings around those viewed as "disabled:"

... I would rather risk doing a confused work of great passion than to render an exact copy of some object or other. This can present a problem for the viewer who comes to this work with preconceived expectations, looking for the usual and valuing only the craft of painting. For those open to questions on an honest and at times visceral level, my hope is that they will see beyond convention..... It is by the use an intuitive subliminal approach we may recall the unquiet memories of our most honest moments and find some truth between us.
---- Peter McFarland ----

The Ancient Mariner [excerpts]
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock :
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand :
It was a heavenly sight !
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light ;
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--No voice ;
but oh ! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
----- Maya Angelou -----

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
----Leonard Cohen----

Would it surprise any of you to know that for at least the last ten years, a simple and inexpensive communication tool, called "FC", has been discredited and banned by organizations who have financial stakes in the "treatment" and "cure" [ergo eugenics] of Autism? Why would these brilliant writers, poets, philosophers, artists [or *any* one for that matter] have the ability to communicate taken away by *any* one for *any* reason? Todd Goldman knows ..... so does anyone who has pointed a finger at anyone "different" and said "retard" "spaz" "idiot." When we discover that the "retards" are actually not --- then we have to face the fact that we are actually the "social retards." And there will be hell to pay for those who refuse to acknowledge the harm caused by such atrocities. "Gooble Gobble, one of us." (an aside for those who are fans of the film noir "Freaks.")

A number of marvelous websites and web pages exist that are written by "auties." There's a whole spectrum of us out here. Come and learn from those who exist freely only in the Ethers ...
Not from parent groups, not from government groups, not from medical institutions, not from eugenics groups, not from cure groups [check out ham smokehouses for that.] Yes, I've been asked if I'm somewhere on the "Spectrum." Of course. We all are!

Dan Aykroyd

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dan_Aykroyd

He was born with syndactyly (webbed toes) and Heterochromia Iridium - the condition of having two-different colored eyes. In an interview with Terry Gross, he described himself as having Tourette syndrome that was successfully treated with therapy when he was a preteen, as well as Asperger's syndrome. The latter manifests itself in a fascination with police work, and Aykroyd carries a police badge at all times.Wikipedia

Meet Jeremy, age 17. Extrapolate my son (age 9) forward 8 years. You'll get the idea. Watch:

MTV AUTISM

Autism: It's Not Like You Think!

JAMIE BURKE

MICHAEL MOON - TEMPLE OF HEALING

AUTISTICS.ORG

AUTISM DIVA

SENSORY OVERLOAD - FRANK KLEIN

LARRY ARNOLD - UK

QUOTEZNET - KEY TO QIM TUNES

AUTISM IS A WORLD - STATE ART PRODUCTIONS

Black By Jaison Hart (age15)

Black is cold like night is long.
It smells like moist damp mold.
It tastes like smoke.
It sounds like rock music blaring and screaming.
It feels like being lost in the night.
It looks like death in the ground.
I want to kill the blackness so I can smile again.


Often the myths are the same,
but it is always known the Romans and Greeks
were fortunes apart and destinies different
Fair to drink the wine of Vulcan, but can't feed on the ambrosia.
Three ways freedom could be won and that one remains closed.
Bitterness must be held back.
It is now understood to be the weapon of the enemy.

Jeffrey Powell, Jr. [poet & autie]


"Hello ma baby! Hello Ma Honey! Hello ma ragtime gal! Hello Hello Hello!"
Ben - age 7