Experimentation.
I wonder if this journal is more a case of documenting things that capture my attention that I want to remember in later days, or just me struggling to find events to convert into articles for the sake of maybe entertaining someone. The subjects are rather esoteric, but they are interesting. Honest.
In the late 1950's the US government - during it's dalliance with mind altering drugs - conducted a number of tests on artists while they were under the influence of LSD. The artists was given a dose of LSD 25 and access to an activity box full of crayons and pencils. His subject was the menacing looking chap with the lab coat who drugged him.
The following are nine drawings the artist completed throughout the eight hour experiment.
The first drawing is done 20 minutes after the first dose of LSD is administered and the doctor observes: "Patient chooses to start drawing with charcoal." While the subject of the experiment reports: "Condition normal . . . no effect from the drug yet."
85 minutes after the first dose and just 20 minutes after a second dose the patient seems euphoric. His speech is becoming mildly impaired and hurried - "I can see you clearly, so clearly. This . . . you . . . it's all . . . I'm having a little trouble controlling this pencil. It seems to want to keep going."
2 hours and 30 minutes after the first dose the subject appears very focused on the business of drawing. - "Outlines seem normal, but very vivid - everything is changing colour. My hand must follow the bold sweep of the lines. I feel as if my consciousness is situated in the part of my body that's now active - my hand, my elbow . . . my tongue."
2 hours and 32 minutes after the first dose and the volunteer seems gripped by his pad of paper. His speech has quickened, and he talks through a constantly concentrated frown. - "I'm trying another drawing. The outlines of the model are normal, but now those of my drawing are not. The outline of my hand is going weird too. It's not a very good drawing, is it? I give up - I'll try again . . ."
The subject follows quickly with another drawing - and begins to amuse me greatly - explaining: "I''ll do a drawing in one flourish . . . without stopping . . . one line, no break!"
Upon completing the drawing the patient starts laughing, then becomes startled by something on the floor.
2 hours and 45 minutes into the experiment and the patient has become agitated. He tries to climb into the activity box, and responds slowly to the suggestion that he might like to draw some more. He has also become largely non-verbal.
"I am . . . everything is . . . changed . . . they're calling . . . your face . . . interwoven . . . who is . . ." He then mumbles something inaudibly to a tune (said to have sounded like 'Thanks for the memory'). After which he changes his medium to Tempera.
After 4 hours and 25 minutes the subject retreated to his bunk and spent the next 2 hours waving his hands in the air. His return to the activity box was sudden and deliberate, changing media to pen and water colour.
"This will be the best drawing," he muttered determinedly, "like the first one, only better. If I'm not careful I'll lose control of my movements, but I won't, because I know. I know . . . I know . . ."
Much to my amusement he then proceeds to make the last half dozen strokes of the drawing while running back and forth across the room.
5 hours 45 minutes and he is starting to come down. Yet continues to move about the room, intersecting the space in complex variations. It's a full hour and a half before he settled down enough to draw again, saying: "I can feel my knees again, I think it's starting to wear off. This is a pretty good drawing - this pencil is mighty hard to hold." - Unfortunately, he is holding a crayon.
8 hours and the experiment is all but over. The patient sits on the bunk bed and reports that the intoxication has worn off except for the occasional distortion of the doctors' faces. They ask for a final drawing and he complies with little enthusiasm.
"I have nothing to say about this last drawing," he says with a melancholy sigh. "It is bad and uninteresting, I want to go home now."
My favorite is number six. And yes, it's very clear I enjoy writing these sort of things, having the facts and being able to mold something of interest around them is extremely enjoyable. To me, at least.
In the late 1950's the US government - during it's dalliance with mind altering drugs - conducted a number of tests on artists while they were under the influence of LSD. The artists was given a dose of LSD 25 and access to an activity box full of crayons and pencils. His subject was the menacing looking chap with the lab coat who drugged him.
The following are nine drawings the artist completed throughout the eight hour experiment.
The first drawing is done 20 minutes after the first dose of LSD is administered and the doctor observes: "Patient chooses to start drawing with charcoal." While the subject of the experiment reports: "Condition normal . . . no effect from the drug yet."
85 minutes after the first dose and just 20 minutes after a second dose the patient seems euphoric. His speech is becoming mildly impaired and hurried - "I can see you clearly, so clearly. This . . . you . . . it's all . . . I'm having a little trouble controlling this pencil. It seems to want to keep going."
2 hours and 30 minutes after the first dose the subject appears very focused on the business of drawing. - "Outlines seem normal, but very vivid - everything is changing colour. My hand must follow the bold sweep of the lines. I feel as if my consciousness is situated in the part of my body that's now active - my hand, my elbow . . . my tongue."
2 hours and 32 minutes after the first dose and the volunteer seems gripped by his pad of paper. His speech has quickened, and he talks through a constantly concentrated frown. - "I'm trying another drawing. The outlines of the model are normal, but now those of my drawing are not. The outline of my hand is going weird too. It's not a very good drawing, is it? I give up - I'll try again . . ."
The subject follows quickly with another drawing - and begins to amuse me greatly - explaining: "I''ll do a drawing in one flourish . . . without stopping . . . one line, no break!"
Upon completing the drawing the patient starts laughing, then becomes startled by something on the floor.
2 hours and 45 minutes into the experiment and the patient has become agitated. He tries to climb into the activity box, and responds slowly to the suggestion that he might like to draw some more. He has also become largely non-verbal.
"I am . . . everything is . . . changed . . . they're calling . . . your face . . . interwoven . . . who is . . ." He then mumbles something inaudibly to a tune (said to have sounded like 'Thanks for the memory'). After which he changes his medium to Tempera.
After 4 hours and 25 minutes the subject retreated to his bunk and spent the next 2 hours waving his hands in the air. His return to the activity box was sudden and deliberate, changing media to pen and water colour.
"This will be the best drawing," he muttered determinedly, "like the first one, only better. If I'm not careful I'll lose control of my movements, but I won't, because I know. I know . . . I know . . ."
Much to my amusement he then proceeds to make the last half dozen strokes of the drawing while running back and forth across the room.
5 hours 45 minutes and he is starting to come down. Yet continues to move about the room, intersecting the space in complex variations. It's a full hour and a half before he settled down enough to draw again, saying: "I can feel my knees again, I think it's starting to wear off. This is a pretty good drawing - this pencil is mighty hard to hold." - Unfortunately, he is holding a crayon.
8 hours and the experiment is all but over. The patient sits on the bunk bed and reports that the intoxication has worn off except for the occasional distortion of the doctors' faces. They ask for a final drawing and he complies with little enthusiasm.
"I have nothing to say about this last drawing," he says with a melancholy sigh. "It is bad and uninteresting, I want to go home now."
My favorite is number six. And yes, it's very clear I enjoy writing these sort of things, having the facts and being able to mold something of interest around them is extremely enjoyable. To me, at least.