acrylic on mylar - abstract decalcomania - digital enhancements - mirrored. 
Nominal size 80 x 40 cm - 2020

​I am currently in quarantine at home - playing with shots of unfinished projects from my studio - which I have not been to since March 10th, since it is way across town.

I wanted to lead this blog with a work of art, before we (and myself included) forget that I am foremost a artist. But these are strange times, and my attention is riveted on the current crisis of COVID-19. Everything is overshadowed by it - including my creativity, since being away from the studio. I am hoping to go there and resume work sometime after Easter, come hell or high water. 

CORONA: Killervirus oder Killer-Umwelt?
​Mit Biologe Clemens Arvay (Fach medizinische Ökologie)

Corona kommt mit dem Feinstaub. Das Problem ist nicht neu und geht viel weiter. Nach Corona darf es nie wieder weitergehen wie davor. Der Biologe Clemens Arvay, Fachmann für medizinische Ökologie, sagt: „Wir haben keinen Killervirus, sondern eine Killerumwelt“. Verweise:  https://www.clemensarvay.com/

Positionspapier über Feinstaub und Corona-Ausbreitung der Universitäten Bologna und Bari mit der italienischen Gesellschaft für Umweltmedizin 
- Bis zu 650.000 Influenzatote pro Jahr - Med Uni Wien

"Was für ein FIASKO, Herr Kurz!"
(Biologe Clemens Arvay über Maskenzwang und staatliche Panikmache)

Der Biologe und Autor Clemens G. Arvay prangert das "Masken-Fiasko" sowie die Panikmache durch Kanzler Sebastian Kurz an. Diese sei wissenschaftlich nicht haltbar und verantwortungslos.
Verweise:
 Sebastian Kurz behauptet, dass bald jeder in Österreich einen Corona-Toten kennen wird:
 KLEINE ZEITUNG - KRONE - YOUTUBE

WHO rät von Mundschutz ab
Verwirrung nach Rat der WHO, keinen Mundschutz zu tragen
Es bestünde die Gefahr, sich beim Abnehmen der Maske erst recht anzustecken, meint die WHO.
​Die Regierung verweist auf eine Studie.​

Clemens Arvay: Masken- und Meinungsverordnung

The above is in German - too bad there are no English subtitles. The positions taken differ from the "officially sanctioned" media that dominates. In my opinion, what he says makes a lot of sense. I am looking forward to when we reflect back on this in, lets say, a year from now. 

Tongue firmly planted into cheek, I now present to you a video that should make you think - you likely know it from civics class (unless you slept through it), but here it is to refresh your memory:

Animal Farm is a novel by George Orwell that was first published in 1945.
​

Ah, last night, good friends, and indulgences in the spirits at Saint Rossi's place where I marvelled at the efficiency of the attractive waitress in serving and at the same time generously spreading winning smiles into the crowd, like releasing doves of peace among the rabunctious revellers. The atmosphere was filled with the collective wisdom of the patrons, and became ever so more poignant and insightful in tact with the emptying glasses that begged for refills. I could swear the entity that hounds my liqueur cabinet at home, leaving only empty bottles while I am supposedly fast asleep, had somehow followed me here and did the same to my glass. But never mind, lets have another one!

Well into the night, and copious libations later, I decided to make my way home. As usually the case, the metro left just as I got to the station, and I had to wait for the next one, 15 minutes later. Just as I loudly lamented the fact that after 15 minutes the overhead display still showed 6 minutes left, the train arrived and the noise of squealing brakes drowned out my complaints. Nobody had listened to it anyway.  At this time of the night, other riders are usually in the same shape as I, so I did not attract undue attention talking to myself, since they were all busy doing the same or singing merry tunes, interrupted only by the hissing of the doors at every stop, people getting on and off and the occasional swoosh and sparkle of falling stars whenever my head banged against the window. What seemed like an eternity of clickedy-clack, stops and starts, hisses and squeals, the angelic voice of the canned announcer intoned "last stop, please leave the train" - which I obediently did.

I found myself walking the rest of the way, since there were no more buses from the metro station. What normally is a automatic activity requiring little thought input other than steering into the right direction, became under these circumstances a mental exercise of iron willpower over the conflicting actions of some of my appendages that seemingly rebelled against me and annoyingly did exactly the opposite of what I intended them to do. 

So just setting one foot in front of the other, alternating left and right, and not stepping forward simultaniously with both, became a task requiring full concentration. It did not help any that my right leg at some point decided to go to sleep and refused to move, and my left marched unerringly forward, which put me into a round-about spin that only a passing lamp post halted. Clamping onto it with both arms, the post ignored my exclamations of thanks and acted like he would sooner I'd leave him alone and be on my merry way. From the opposite side of the street, my better self that had detached from me  and watched all this in puzzled amusement, finally told me to get on with it and threatened to go home without me if I didn't get my act together.

Somehow I did manage to carry on and even find the keyhole to my apartment door, in spite that it misschieveously moved around whenever I tried to insert my key and only a stern warning to stop that nonsense made it hold still long enough for me to open the door. I don't remember getting undressed, which I managed only partially, because since I did not remove my shoes, my pants just went no further than my ankles - thats where they stayed as I flopped onto my bed. 

Rummaging through my library of dreams, I selected one pleasant enough to not give me any additional headaches. 

It is afternoon now, the next day (or so I hope.... must check the calendar....) but after a shower and a hearty afternoon breakfast I feel like .... well, like: 

I am still alive! 
Hallelujah! 

"I thought I saw a UFO, but it was just YOU!"
Photo Art Work: Otto Rapp - Music: Peter Profant
Ivana Pristasova - Violins, Peter Profant - Cellos and Percussions, Michal Jasko - Trombones, Pavel Poliak - Tuba.
Recorded in ProfantasyMusicLab by Peter Profant
Mix and Master: Milan Tokoly