Education, Employment and Family

Sherlolly

Songs

Rain and Sunshine

Henry VIII Verses Charles II

I've been considering Henry the VIII a lot lately. Specifically comparing him to his 3rd great nephew Charles the II. I have contemplated who was worse to be married to. Obviously Henry wins due to executing two of his wives. Still I found my conclusion to be remarkable. Why? Because Henry tried to be a "good man." He wanted to be viewed as a moral and godly example for the English nation and he attempted to maintain that image for the entirety of his life. He failed there of course. MAJORLY. Yet why is that the case?

Henry was the second son of Henry the VII. Meaning, he was not raised as the heir to the throne. He was raised to be the religious one. At that time, in England that meant to be a devout Catholic. On one hand, he took this very seriously and devoted much time to religious study. On the other hand, he liked hefty amounts of feasting, sex and sports. Despite these excessive pursuits as a young man he was still viewed as a "Defender of the faith.' Indeed Pope Leo X had declared him thus due to his book proclaiming papal supremacy. Henry hated Martin Luther and all protestants for his whole life. Yes, even after his notorious break with Rome he considered himself Catholic to his dying day. As King, he HAD the power to divorce his first wife. He broke with Rome because divorcing his wife was a SIN, but an annulment granted by the Pope was not considered sinful. A fair share of monarchs had put aside their spouses this way for decades. Yes, divorce was taboo, but ending marriages was not. The Pope likely would have granted the annulment if the King of Spain hadn't threatened his life. The King of Spain who just so happened to be the brother of Henry's unwanted wife. Oh the drama! It was important to Henry to be moral. It was important to Henry to have a legitimate son to be his heir. A girl would not be sufficient. The patriarchal imperative must be upheld in an the ideal church blessed son. He denied all of his sickly illegitimate sons. Yet would later adore is sickly legitimate one. Anne Boleyn had to die. She had failed to give him a son, and worst of all their cursed marriage had jeopardized his soul. In his mind, framing her for adultery was justified. She was a witch. A witch he loved enough to give her a merciful beheading. His next beheaded wife wasn't so lucky. She had actually committed adultery and he wanted to forgive her, but he had already set the precedent that adultery was treason and treason meant death. Henry was a romantic and believed in love at first sight. So when his soon to be fourth wife didn't recognize him in disguise he felt it couldn't be true love. That and he thought she was ugly. Such a charming fellow. His sixth and final wife's main fault was that she was a protestant who believed in reading her bible. Henry was very upset by the growth of protestant practice within his personal branch of Catholicism, and almost had her beheaded, but then he remembered women shouldn't be taken seriously, and instead threatened the men who tattled on her. Probably one of the nicest things he ever did. Another nice thing he did was legitimize his two daughters. Some guess he did it out of guilt for beheading and or isolating to death their Mothers. He had a conscience. He considered himself to be a devout man.

Then there is Charles the II. The King who loved to party, and did not hide it. The King who was raised in Catholic France, but gave that up to be a protestant King, because why? Money, fame, and partying! He was not faithful to his wife, and not subtle about it. He was not interested in love or the opinion of the church. He is quoted to say he was interested in women only for their bodies and not their minds. He said this when one of his mistresses went insane, likely from venereal disease that he probably gave her. While he never tried to legitimize his many illegitimate kids. He also never denied them and gave them titles and wealth. He had no interest in divorcing his childless wife. He didn't care about not having his own heir. From what I can tell, he had no interest in Religion at all, until his painful deathbed where he is said to have converted to, did you guess? Catholicism. A life of selfish indulgence and yet he was a better man than the religious Henry the VIII.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/people/henry_viii/
http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/tudor-england/henrys-divorce-from-catherine/
http://royalcentral.co.uk/historic/why-did-henry-viii-seek-an-annulment-of-his-marriage-to-catherine-of-aragon-2-28373
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/anne-of-cleves-and-henry-viii-marriage/
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/monarchs/katharine-parr/
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/monarchs/catherine-howard/
http://www.anglicancatholic.org.uk/about-the-anglican-catholic-church/
http://www.englishmonarchs.co.uk/stuart_33.html
http://www.historytoday.com/tim-harris/charles-ii-reality-behind-merry-monarchy
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WS8TIrt1s2M
http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/letters/rear-window-the-merry-protestant-who-died-a-catholic-a-royal-conversion-1407235.html

The steps

A few years ago, I was living in my parents basement with my kids. At the time all of us were extremely raw and emotional, but i did my best to always be there for my kids and help them with whatever they needed. This was difficult at times because they became very demanding, and on one such occasion we were walking down the basement steps. Both my kids were whining at me.
"Pick me up!" They cried.
I told them I couldn't safely carry both of them down the stairs. I had to hold the railing for safety sake, and since neither would relinquish their claim to my arm neither would be carried. Still they pleaded and begged and grabbed at my legs. My son was irate I was holding my daughter's hand, and not his.
"Let's all just hold the railing." I ordered a quarter of the way down the stairs.
My daughter being only a toddler, at the time, instead decided to jump up and down next to the open side of the stairs Mommy instincts took over and I scooped her up with my left arm, but her jumping antics did not stop. She refused to hold onto me and instead bounced and flailed like a fish on land. Meanwhile Elisha's fury overloaded and tears burst from his eyes as he sat on the steps at my feet blocking my path, and tripping me up.
"Get up!" I shouted. "You'll make me fall! My daughter hold onto me I can't hold you like this!"
My son moved farther down the steps weeping and wailing the whole way. My daughter would hold on for no more than a few seconds before I needed to remind her yet again, with each reminder my son would beg to be held too.
"You don't love me!' He sobbed once again sitting at my feet grabbing at my leg.
At this point I began to cry, and I pleaded.
"Children I'm so tired. Please be good. I'm going to get hurt if you keep doing this. Please hold onto me. Please hold the railing. I love you all very much but please-"
I managed a few more steps before my son tripped me up again. Now both of them were screaming and shouting so loud I couldn't hear or feel anything, but distress. My son grabbed my right arm nearly pulling me over. Picking him up seemed like my only option and with so few steps left I could manage, so long as they stopped  screaming and flailing, and I informed them as much when I placed my son in my right arm.
"You need to stop flailing and screaming. Be good to your Mama!"
I took one step, with the two wild things being relatively calm. I could do it, and this nightmare would be over soon, but the easy step brought confidence to my kids. They both began to bounce and scream and cheer, because being held by Mom is a great place to start a chicken fight right? My strength was failing me emotional and physical exhaustion was taking its toll. If I dropped my kids I could keep my balance, but what would happen to them? Maybe just my son? Impossible, he unlike my daughter gripped onto me like a weighty boa constrictor. I just had to keep balanced and either sit down or get down the stairs safely. Above all, I didn't want my kids to get hurt.
"Be good to Mama! Be still So I can sit down." I pleaded.
They erupted with laughter. My daughter held out her arms like Hallelujah, and my son shook me like a rag doll. That was it. That was the moment I had nightmares about come true. I fell forward through the air and down. My feet must of hit the last two steps before pushing me outward onto the cold cement floor. I never let go of the kids. They didn't stop laughing. I had landed on my crumpled legs. My kids cheered. I cried.
"Are you alright? Are you alright?" I asked both of them.
They were fine except bewildered frowns went across their faces.
"Why are you crying Mama?" Asked my son.
I explained that falling down the steps hurts. They in turn responded skeptically. After all they had fallen and no such pain happened for them. So off they went on their merry way. Meanwhile, I couldn't stand, and instead sat in my pain. Nothing was broken, but I had a hard time untwisting my legs. Tears streamed down my face. Eventually my children acknowledged I must actually be in pain since I didn't immediately respond to their demands to alight the basement room. Still the reality didn't sink in for them until they saw my shins in the morning light. Black, blue and purple from my knee nearly all the way down, and on one foot as well. It didn't go away in a day or two, but for good long weeks there were remnants. From that day on, my children held onto the railing.

Son Lux collaboration through hearing: The Art Assignment

The Toby Curse

It seems to me that people named Toby are cursed, within the realm of fiction. It is the same for any spelling variation. They simply have it bad. Is there a running joke among writers to doom people named Toby?
Consider America's The Office (2005- 2013). Spoiler Alert. The last episode everyone is seen to have a somewhat happy ending except for Toby. It is bad enough he consistently suffers throughout the show, but in the end he's even worse off! Funny? No. Then again I didn't realize he was cursed by his name.
Toby Wyatt Flenderson 


Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (1997) One of the funniest reunion comedies out there. Funny like the office and therefore it suffers from the Toby curse. In this female lead comedy the Toby is female. She mistreated throughout the film by a character named Heather Mooney. Played superbly and foul mouthed by Janeane Garofalo. Although this Toby does get her year book signed as her better ending. Far from happy though.
Toby Walters


Arrested Development (2003-) has likely more than one curse on the repeatedly canceled show. One of those curses is the Toby curse, or in this case the Tobias curse. Tobias has nothing but bad luck. Worse luck than the other members of the dysfunctional family. True he hasn't lost his hand or gone to jail, but every word he speaks betrays him. That's a 24/7 curse that can only be explained by one mean writers and two maybe just maybe the Toby curse.
Tobias Funke


Gravity Falls (2012-) is an animated show dedicated to the mysteries of the town Gravity Falls. One mystery they have is, you guessed it, the Toby curse. Their Toby is a sad pathetic man who serves as running joke of sadness. If only he knew to change his name,
Toby Determined


It is not even safe overseas. The anime Naruto: Shippuden (2007-) has its own tormented Tobi. I'll not get into plot details but this Tobi is seriously cursed. He has the misfortune to change his name to Tobi. That sealed his fate.
Obito "Tobi" Uchiha


What caused this curse to happen? Surely, this wasn't always the case in TV and cinema? No, I think something caused the curse. Someone with power. Someone with skill. Someone with great singing ability, and their own kingdom of goblins.


Labyrinth (1986) the forefather of the Toby curse. I think that future aspiring writers saw this Jim Henson film and decided all those named "Toby" must have bad luck. Perhaps it didn't' influence Naruto, but the rest I actually think it is a possibility. The poor baby boy named Toby kidnaped by the Goblin King as played by David Bowie. That's the source of the curse. We need Jennifer Connelly to be Sarah and set this right.


Can you think of any other bad luck people named Toby under the curse of David Bowie? Let me know.

Art Assignment #12 Imprint

An unfinished story about yet another castle

One loved fairy tales, and the other believed in them. One was a romantic and the others heart was bare. These two decided to grasp the last days of the 20th century. They were to explore to old remote places of Europe. They were determined to discover a ruined castle. (One that was not guarded.) There they'd have an adventure. Their expectations were realistic. Just roaming from place to place would be an adventure in and of itself. If no castle was found it would not have spoiled their trip. Finding a castle was merely a fanciful wish, but you what they say about wishes...




The above was the start of a thriller graphic novel I never finished.

Make a Rug The 10th Art Assignment

Ohborn Castle Finale

Eric ran among the broken rocks of Ohborn. He could discern small traces of color swiftly evaporating through exposure to the sun's light. There was no way he could be fast enough to capture it, or to even see it clearly. His mind raced. He realized that nearly seventy people were in OhBorn when it collapsed. Perhaps one of them lived. Perhaps one did not perish underneath the weight. He frantically began shifting through what rocks he could move.

“You are wasting your time Eric. They are all dead. Let the professionals remove them!” Cried Claude.

“I have to know! There was residue on the rocks. There must have been more to the image! I need to know!”

“You are mad Eric! Even if their was such an image it is gone now.”

“I have to know. I have to know!”

A small portion of a representative's robes could be seen beneath a movable bit of rubble. “Could it be?” Eric thought, and hoped. It was Bernard. Out of all the people Eric could have found,but fate led him to Bernard. His body did not appear to be mangled, but upon closer inspection one could tell that he was crushed. Eric fumbled over him. Painfully willing to see any traces of life.

“Bernard, tell me. Tell me what you saw! Bernard! You need to live and put an end to all of this! People need to know the truth! Bernard!”

“Shouting at a dead man is in bad taste, Eric!”

A small glimmer appeared in Bernard's eyes.

“Bernard. What can you tell me?”

Bernard's lips parted. Eric drew his head to them, in order to hear.

“You're mm-my friend.”

The pit of Eric's heart burst. No news of the wall or its image. Just faint words of friendship.

Ohborn Castle Pt. Ten

The documentary continued on as planned. Eric did not speak to Bernard again until the final day of shooting. They met face to face, but not eye to eye, in the round garden in front of Ohborn.
"So this is it then." Mumbled Eric.
"Indeed it is." Said Bernard with his eyes now fixed on Eric.
Eric's face drew inward as though Bernard's eyes placed pressure on his face.
"The interior footage has been reviewed. They actually managed to record some stuff, but-"
Bernard interjected. "It was too dark and grainy to use."
"Right." Eric chuckles lightly. "They had to try."
Bernard nodded.
"I know it hurts you that I no longer follow The Artist, but-"
"All is well between us Eric. Except, I will try to persuade your return and you in turn will anger, and withdraw from me, and-"
Eric interjected. "You are obligated to bring me back to the Artist. I know, but did you ever consider..."
"Yes? Did I ever consider? You trailed off there."
"Never mind. I know the answer. Goodbye Bernard. I doubt we shall meet again." Eric offered his hand to shake.
"Goodbye Eric. We'll see each other again one last time. The walls will fall soon and then you will return. You will want to know." Bernard shakes Eric's hand.
"Goodbye Bernard." Said Eric gruffly releasing Bernard's hand.
With that, Eric left Ohborn castle. That afternoon he boarded a train with Claude headed for Paris. He was to fill a post at an art institute there.
"I am dead! Please keep the sun out of my face. I want to sleep." Moaned Claude.
"No one is stopping you from pulling the shade." Said Eric annoyed.
"Are you kidding? Whenever we take this route you must see the castle as we pass by, or did you forget?" Argued Claude.
Eric angrily pulled at the shade. In his wrath he failed several times to successfully pull it down ,but once it was done his frame and face relaxed. Eric was not tired, but the dark was soothing. His eyes would never see Ohborn again. He would leave it as the ruin it is, but then a strange rumbling twanged beneath his feet.
"Claude, do you feel that?"
"Hah?" snorted Claude."
"The floor is rumbling."
"We are on a train, Eric!"
"That's not it! The metal..."
Eric gasped as iron rivets began to tremble. No sooner did he observe that did the train screech to a halt. Eric listened out his carriage door. "The rails!" "There is something wrong with them." The rumbling beneath his feet grows, and terror strikes Eric's heart. One thought and one thought alone  permeated his thoughts. Ohborn Castle. Quickly he leaped back to the carriage window and ripped off the shade he so wanted closed moments before.
"We've gone too far I can't see Ohborn!" Eric shouted.
"Ah I knew you couldn't stand it." Hollered Claude after Eric.
Eric didn't stop to respond. He had to see if it was true. He had to run to get a view of Ohborn. He raced against a tide of people trying to make their way to the front. Each one of them furious with the engineer. None of them considering what was happening outside. Eric pushed and forced his way past. He found an exit and kicked it open, and out in the distance Ohborn still stood as small and ugly as ever. Eric laughed a breathless laugh. He hadn't noticed but even the ground beneath him had stopped trembling. He smiled at the castle, as one smiles at a friend who has played a prank, but his smile faded and his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted. The pitched walls of Ohborn were crumbling, and a great cloud of dust swallowed it from view.
"Claude!" Shouted Eric as he freely ran back to his carriage. "We need to get off this train Claude, now!"

Ohborn Castle Pt. Nine

The castle remained unchanged. The rough ground still rolled. The pitch coated rock walls still felt colder than ice, and the light from the scattered openings did not shed deeply. OhBorn is very small. There is the entry chamber with the hole, and the ante chamber. As Eric walked through the entry way he made sure not to look at the hole. He avoided all of it. He steered far clear of the velvet rope blocking its entrance. In the ante chamber, the stairway to the ramparts was blocked off by a metal gate, and that was it. That is the whole of Ohborn. If he dared hop the metal gate and climb the crumbling stair he'd find nothing but a view of the surrounding area. Instead, he re-entered the main chamber. He didn't mean to but he did glance. An accidental glance, but a glance just the same. The hole was there. It's smooth descent into the wall still had its ever alluring pull. Eric's mind filled with memories. Even of memories he could not remember. His parents often told him of his first outer uterus trip to the castle. People asked his parents if they were going to show him the image to which they replied. “We don't do that. It will be his choice.” Eric did eventually view the image when he 12 years old. Did he have a choice even then? Was he pulled by an irresistible call? Or did societal pressure make it impossible for him not to look, or human curiosity? Even now, a devoted skeptic, the pull to look remains. “It is not even that beautiful.” He thought. He could prove that thought to be true too. He could look upon its face and scorn it. He could do it surely. He edged closer. At the line of the velvet rope one can leer in such a way as to see it from afar. (No true need to do it proper.) He inched closer. His hand reached out toward the wall to steady himself.

“No touching at Ohborn!”

Eric couldn't help but to lurch and reel. He spun round to see the worn brown robes of Ohborn's overseer. Yet his voice had not matched him. He shouted like the overseer of his internship days. Of course he would know. He knew his predecessor well.

“Bernard, you nailed him. That was.” He catches his breath. “Superb.”

“And it did the job too. He always scared the bejeebees out of you.”

“Anyone would have been startled. I was told I had free reign to scope out this place.”

“Within reason.”

“Oh is reason a thing here?”

“Funny. Doubly so if they think they can film here. They use digital cameras now correct?”

“They think that will help.”

“Do you think they're right?”

“....”

“I suppose they have to try don't they?”

“You didn't have to give them the go ahead. It wasn't my idea to shoot the interior.”

“I know it wasn't.”

“You knew? But I thought...”

“No. And.. yes. Besides it is good that they are doing this documentary. Ohborn needs to be preserved before the end.”

“Ever the doomsayer! I thought of you last year when the crack pot predicted the world's end for what is it the fourth time? I imagined you in here. Huddled by the wall hoping that the tar would fall.”

Bernard's eyes shift within their settings.

“I knew it. I know you.”

“And I you.”

Ohborn Castle Pt. Eight

“It's not about making good art it is about emulating the artist.” Insisted Bernard on a sunny day years before the documentary shoot.

“Who made great art the best art ever!”

“That's disputed, Eric.”

“Oh discovered created. Either way it was/is still great art. That's the point of this whole business, Bernard!”

“But if one is to fail at making great art the point is still emulating the artist.”

“If the art is not great than they are not a true artist.”

“You know that it isn't just about that. It is about bringing blessings to the people, and if a piece of art makes just one person happy then they are succeeding at emulating the artist.”

“Are you actually saying that sentiment overrides quality?”

“In many cases, yes.”

Eric turns and shakes his head at the ground.

“True happiness is not found in crap.”

“True happiness is accepting.”

“If only the artist was here. He could settle this dispute.”

“It will be settled, with the illumination of death.”

“And we can never know until then?”

“Is that so bad? Is knowing so important?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

As Eric walked into Ohborn for the first time, since he left it in anger five years earlier. He couldn't help but relive long suppressed conversations with Bernard.

Ohborn Castle Pt Seven

I'm here at the Ohneal excavation a mere five kilometers from Ohborn. This place is a buzz with anticipation. They are searching for artifacts. Not from the Artist himself , but from his ancestor the warrior King. To date, there has been no archeological evidence of the actual existence of Yana. However, here there have been some promising finds. A battle went on here some several hundred years ago, nearly dating to the time the warrior King took over. Could this be the legendary battle that won him this land and ultimately the rocks of Ohborn? Henry Teller chief of this site comments.

"We've had really promising finds. There definitely was a battle here. I don't think we'll find any proof of King Yana, but most certainly more circumstantial evidence. There was a battle here at the right time, and it was the invading force that won. That all aligns with what was is written in the manuscript.”

Circumstances has always been the friend of Ohborn. Storms, and fires have never harmed it. And even during years of famine disease and hardship the overseer of Ohborn has never been absent. During the schism this was said about the overseer of Ohborn.

"Surely there has never been nor will there ever be a stronger form of employment than that of the overseer of Ohbron. It is protected by fate, and is solidified by the beliefs of the multitude. Even the King in all of his splendor cannot touch the hem of his robe.”

This was said as a reaction to the blanket dissociation of the western artistry. While it applied to the common lay artist it did not apply to the Overseer of Ohborn. Indeed, where the line of kings has had several disputes the line of overseers has never been broken nor fought over. Even after the great disassociation.

Ohborn Castle Pt. Six

The age of the rocks- the foundational rocks of Ohborn is a controversial subject. Were they placed there by the ancients like stone henge? Were they a natural phenomena? Are we seriously going here?

“Cut! Read the darn prompter as is Eric!”

“We're not going to get into the age of the rocks debate. It is silly, and boring. Do you want your viewers to be bored to death?”

“This won't be in the main film. This will be on the comprehensive DVD.”

“Comprehensive?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning..”

“An all encompassing explanation of all things associated with Ohborn.”

“You're insane. That would take forever.”

“Oh please. If people can watch the extra features of the Lord of the Rings movies then they can watch this.”

“Not willingly.”

“This will be shown in schools.”

“Those poor people.”

“Come on you studied this stuff.”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“Now you get to spit it all out.”

“This teleprompter is written from my studies isn't it?”

“I bought more than just your time, Eric.”

Ohborn Castle Pt. Five A conversation with Claude

“After all my years of study and debate, I learned that I still loved to make art, but that I didn't need to follow The Artist to make art.” Explained Eric to his friend.

“That's obvious.” Muttered Claude.

“It isn't when you're in it. The whole world outside Ohborn is the enemy. That includes the art institute. I came from The Group of The Artist. They practice primitive artistry to an extent. As much as it conveniences them.”

“I've heard of them. They are not thought well of in France.”

“So I've heard. The truth of the image can never be fully known. There is no measurable way to discern who had the light alight within them and who doesn't. I think that is a fundamental flaw in the system. Several have tried to fix it with their various tekonlologies, but it can't be done, because it can't be known. Where as good art verses bad art can be known.”

“There you are wrong. Art is subjective.”

“No it is not.”

“Yes it is. What is good to you may not be good for me.”

“Some art just sucks and you know it.”

“I don't know it. If I was so certain I would be able to believe in The Artist.”

“The Artist does not walk this Earth. He's not tangible. A sucky piece of artwork can honestly be evaluated.”

“But there can never be a universal agreement.”

“That's why the institute was started, and see how well they did.”

“Exactly. Somebody will always disagree and they could be right.”

“The world's not full of infinite possibilities.”

“Who are you to judge?”

“Reason is my judge. Reality is everybody's judge. Like I said about the Group of Artistry, it places such emphasis on the manuscript’s validity. When with any historical textual criticism one can easily see it's holes and falsehoods. It's odd to think that studying with them ultimately lead me away from them. You see the manuscript can be known, and it is false. It's the cornerstone of the idea of artistry. It holds the weight of the whole thing. Take that away and it would fall down for anyone. Anyone that pays attention that is.”

“Many American's don't. You are an exception.”

“I'm not an American. I was born in the next town over.”

Ohborn Castle Pt. Four

The influence of Ohborn castle stretches out far beyond its hallowed boundaries. In the year 1100, in the Kingdom of Jerusalem the Universal art institute was formed, with the King of Jerusalem as its head. For centuries it was considered the center of the artistic world. Even long after the Kingdom of Jerusalem fell the King of the art institute remained. Indeed, to this very day, the Universal institute is not considered Israeli owned nor Palestinian. It is its own sovereign nation. Its soul purpose it to lead the world in the ways of The Artist,with its King as his prime representative on Earth. Universal Artists maintain that prime representation has been in place since The Artist's death. They cite that Petrof was the first prime representative, and it has carried on since that day. Just last year the 266^th king of the universal art institute, and Father of all artists was crowned.

Within Ohborn artistry there has always been a certain degree of hierarchical order. The head is of course The Artist himself. Although long dead the record of his words is key to Ohbornian artistry. Or is it? With the starting of the Art institute, and with the King as the prime representative it was his interpretation of the manuscript that dictated how Ohborn artists did art.

Tradition states that Petroph made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to bring western art to the east. There he died, but not before teaching artistry. Since Petroph is considered the prime representative of the original followers of the Artist his deathbed became a marker, and tribute place of teaching. Or as the University believes founded artistry for the world at large itself.

The Artist

Leader of all true artists.

The Prime Representative (The King)

The prime representation of the Artist on Earth, and the ultimate authority on the interpretation of the Ohborn manuscript.

The Arch Overseer

Is some one that represents over a large region, with several lower overseer's at his subordinates.

The Overseer

Is an authoritative representative, in the line of the original followers of the artist. (Likewise Arch Overseers)

The Representatives

A representative is a man that has dedicated his life's work, possessions, and personal life to art, and teaching the art of the Artist. (Covers for females.)

Lay Artists

Are any artist that volunteers his or her time in some way. All true artists must act as lay artists at some point in their careers.

The above is a listing of the hierarchy of the Jerusalem artistry.

There two standard methods of viewing image on the wall. One is totally daring to dredge through the dark and see the image up close. The other is to peer down from a distance. This methodology is a hotly debated topic. To be certain primitive artists always approached the image, but sometime in the 1200's the practice of peering became common place especially for the elderly and the feeble. Then upon common practice of the Jerusalem order peering became that standard. It was also at this time that infants were ordered by the King to view the image. This would be an initiation rather than an actual charge to become an artist. As part of the seven sections of artistry. It was also in the 1200's that the Germanic people broke allegiance with the King. While the method of initiation wasn't the cause of this schism it did not help matters. Not surprisingly, one easy way to tell a Jerusalem artist from a Germanic one was how they viewed the wall. Oddly, both parties opted to have their infants gaze upon the wall. However, some went up close and some from afar. Those that needed to travel far in order for their infant to view the wall would often travel while still pregnant. This practice was so common that the area around Ohborn became known as the birthing center of the world.

Ohborn Castle Pt. Three

Considering that both Hitler and Napoleon attempted to rip down these great walls, it is amazing to think how painstakingly preserved they are. Thanks in no short part to those still devoted to pitch. Indeed, it was the tar and pitch ceremonies that prevented Napoleonic armies from coming here, and it was their warning that alerted the overseer to divert Hitler. Yes, to this very day the tar and pitch ceremony goes on; to a greatly lesser extent. Ever since the dark ages, those who pitch, have been at odds with those who hold to Johann's theory. While most of the populace converted to the artists ideals, there have always been those that kept to the old ways. This lead to much fighting even at times blood shed. However, in the 1200's a compromise was made. The tar and pitch ceremonies could continue on the outer wall, and the viewing ceremonies would carry on from within the Ohborn. This compromise continued with dotted disputes until the 20^th century. When post world wars preservation came into power. Laws were past that limited any contact with Ohborn regardless of opinion. Ohborn was to be preserved, and not stripped or pitched unless it was architecturally necessary to do so. This being the case, the professionals hired to do the work must have an aligned opinion with their allotted work. Meaning a tar and pitch man must be a follower of the old ways, and a stripper must be an Artist.

“And Cut. Good you did that with a straight face. I'm proud of you.”

“You should be.”

“We're adding a segment about the initiation process. We're going to shoot it in Ohborn itself. We're hoping to do a reenactment.”

“What? We don't have clearance to shoot in Ohborn!”

“I just got it. Once the overseer heard you were the host of this project he agreed. He said he wished he would have known sooner.”

“You didn't have any right to use my name.”

“I didn't tell him. He found out on his own. Although it was quite providentially helpful to us.”

Eric sighed and shook his head. The unavoidable nature of this situation infuriated him. A shooting in Ohborn would certainly be disastrous. No, he wasn't one of those superstitious types, but the castle was not meant for film equipment. Several accidents have happened to people wanting to film inside Ohborn. Fires, equipment failures, injuries and even a couple of deaths have happened. The castle is dark, and the floor is slick. Many attempts have been made over the years to electrify the castle, at least in part, but to no avail. It was speculated that there was some kind of natural magnetic current under the ground that caused electronics to malfunction. Eric knew this to be true on a personal level. He was 19 when he received his summer internship at Ohborn. He had the audacity to bring his cell phone with him into the castle. (Even though it was forbidden to do so.) Not only did he have no signal, but his phone's memory was totally wiped. Bernard, who was only a representative at the time, thought it was hilarious. Bernard was quite a friend to Eric back then. Sometimes people are lucky enough to find a friend who shares the same madness. Eric and Bernard were mad. They were mad for Ohborn.

Neither Eric nor Bernard were much interested in practicing art so much as they were interested in study. Indeed, the limitless amount of study that was to be done in and around Ohborn thrilled them both. It had taken Bernard ten years to get a representative placement at Ohborn. Where as Eric fell into his internship through privilege and chance. Yet Bernard never begrudged Eric that. He knew that having things come easily was its own punishment.

Eric delighted in debating. Especially during his internship at Ohborn. In America there are many people that attempt to “Do art.” Yet few know what they are doing and or talking about. The cultural desert that is his American home had often disgusted Eric. So many people making stick figures, and calling them great because they were inspired by the image. “It is not like it is difficult to study.” Eric would often grumble. He'd find himself disgusted by the common American artists. They claimed to be so concerned about art classes being removed from school's, but indifferent to learning and teaching art themselves.

“That's not my only peeve with Americans Bernard.” Eric said one day many years before he made the documentary.

“Do tell me Eric. Complaining-Eric is so good for the artistic soul.”

“As is sarcasm.”

“No truly. Share with me the world of tasteless Americans.”

“They are wasteful and hurt the artistry of nature. It's like they forget the image on the wall was part of nature, and that the old way was all about preserving natural art. Nothing that we artists create can compete with the natural beauty of the rocks or sea, or a flower of pity's sake.”

“True, but we do paint those things.”

“And we try to copy the image on the wall. In fact, all of artistry, in some form or another attempt to recreate the image on the wall.”

“All of Ohborn artistry.”

“Yes. The false artists that have never seen nor emulated the image.”

“There are false artists that emulate.” He laughs. “There are even false artists that have looked upon the image.”

“Well that's debatable. Once an artist always an artist.”

“If you stay an artist. If someone stops emulating the image all together they shall not benefit from it in death.”

“Johann's theory.”

“You take the non-mystical approach.”

“No. I believe it. Just not the way you do. I don't think. It is good to believe that the rocks will somehow illuminate the dead. When they are revealed.”

“I'm telling you it will happen in our day. We'll see the rocks in person.”

“Many people have said that, Bernard.”

“I am not people.”