Say what you see, not what you think, and definitely not what you think others see or perceive; translate the reality before you into clear, words, sentences and paragraphs. Take your time. There is no rush; if you wait a moment or two before expressing your conception, nothing will be lost. How often is it that we see something but, describe it some other way; I see happy but say sad, I see pain, but say angry or ugly or bad.
Images enter our retina, hit the sweet-spot of our brains and sausage-machine-like they create something unexpected, unanticipated; wait. If you hold-on for long enough, I am sure I can make these parallel lines look wobbly, I can make the dress make me look thin or fat or whatever. Our interpretations become based not solely on past experiences, but, on the future – what effect might my words have on how and where? I might say the wrong-thing and before I know it, I have landed in a whole-lot of bother and wish I hadn’t opened my mouth primo; I love you kind of thing, although twisted into something with less meaning or weight; I dream about you, I remember you; I forgot that we ever met or talked or shared the same space.
They say, if you stand on your head, or, if possible, invert the image, you have a better chance of seeing things for what they are; the context is removed, the background, the connotations, associations. Draw an upside-down smile and you don’t just get a frown you get to bypass the wrinkles and hidden messages buried within a person, you get to see.
Distort, twist, manipulate, ensure that the movements are compliant, ensure that you understand your actions and voila, within nanoseconds, you have created something else; you haven’t moved, the subject is the same, but all is different, all is new. Congratulate yourself for the chance happening, for the happenstance. The moment. It is a candle flickering; the moment to moment movement of light and combustion and heat are a process of transformation, translating a to b to c. There is no end, it goes on and on. Hear, feel, taste. Our senses become jumbled. They call this synaesthesia. I call it perception. I call it reality. I call it translating the external. Think back to Funes the Memorious. Think back to the accumulation of moments; the overwhelming burden of being, of living; the weight of the past and the future. It is enough to make your shoulders droop, your knees buckle.