July 12, 2025

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Attention 🎯 | Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

The glowing screen does not possess you. You merely have rehearsed the reflex of the infinite scroll.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2025/07/12/2518-king-of-mind/

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King of Mind

Artist. And so we end this tract with the most important undertaking.

You must become sovereign of thy own domain.

Just as the Gods command the land beneath the widened starlit skies. So must you as creator, claim dominion over the kingdom of your mind.

Every choice of focus, every tilt of attention is a decree shaping the bounds of thought and deed.

Let none, neither the clamour of the outer world nor the sly whispers of self-doubt seize your seat. Your vision is sacred territory. Each minute you grant to it enriches the realm. Each distraction you indulge invites marauders through the gate.

Attention is the artist’s sceptre with every chosen thought, you breathe life into hidden realms. Forging worlds when none existed. Yet remember, each motion of the scepter is habit, not addiction.

The glowing screen does not possess you. You merely have rehearsed the reflex of the infinite scroll.

Recognise the pattern and refashion it into rituals that feed your craft rather than drain it.

Beware to the multitasking myth.

To split attention is to spill gold upon sand. Every rapid switch spends coin from the treasury of your mind.

The artist must learn to flow like a single deep river. Depth, not breadth carves the canyon. Anchor yourself to one current. Follow it to the sea and green Abundance will bloom amidst your garden. Each sustained breath of concentration lights the fires of creation.

Practice practical feed hygiene.

Cull the retweet and muzzle the metric. Tend your inbox and your timeline always pruning what does not nourish inspiration’s bloom.

A clean stream feeds a clear river.

Clarity breeds momentum and momentum breeds triumph.

Know, too, the ethics of complicity. Every post, every like, lays higher bricks upon the citadels of unseen empires. Each breadcrumb of attention fattens a surveillance marketplace.

Sovereignty of mind is not merely a private privilege, but a public duty. For what you endorse becomes part of common lore.

Each act of wilful attention is a forging of destiny. Like a blacksmith, tempering steel in fire. Let your focus be the anvil and your will the hammer. Together, they shape the Iron of Insight into blades.

It is the heat of steady concentration that fuels the forge of creativity, every unwavering minute is a spark that kindles dormant potential.

O valiant artist protector of the isle. Guard your sanctum as a fortress. Permit entry only to those thoughts that enrich and expand the realm. Refuse quarter to idle gossip and trivial spectacle. Within the hush of walls, your truest works, take root and flourish, sheltered from the weather of noise.

Understand also your sovereignty is yoked to accountability.

You alone hold the keys to the gates of your focus. Every casual scroll, every lingering glance at shallow spectacle is a coin spent from a finite purse.

To cry theft! Is to forget that the purse rested in thine own hand.

Accept ownership of the past, reclaim stewardship of the future. Pay in minutes for what deserves hours and watch intellectual riches accrue.

As you traverse the data lit boulevards of this age beware the snares of the loop.

A ceaseless carousel of apps, tabs, and pings that siphons the lifeblood of your creative fire. Observe its machinery the instant you glimpse the gears, you may step clear of the ride. Close the lid. Lift your gaze. These humble gestures restore rhythm and retune the instrument of the mind.

In a season where every fraction of time seems to clamour for attention, cultivate the art of strategic disinterest. The public feed is not your only dominion.

There remain quiet spaces, hidden groves and gardens, small islands and greener clearings beyond glass and wire. Where thought wanders freely unyoked by algorithmic tug. There true creation breathes.Seek them out. They will nourish both craft and soul.

But heed this final counsel.

There is detox and there is discipline. A week’s flight from the glowing city may cleanse the lungs and spirit. Yet sovereignty is forged in the daily drill. Better the percussion of small deliberate choices than the spectacle of a single grand retreat. Make routine and rhythm, your ally and the extraordinary will follow as page follows page.

Artist. You are not merely a maker of works. You are a maker of worlds. Every focus breath reshapes the fabric of reality itself, wield attention with care and the external tumult, hushes. The inner realm will dawn across its rising hills.

Reign with purpose. Guard your sceptre with honour, let habit serve, distraction kneel, and creativity ascend to its rightful throne.

Upon your isle is a luminous vision. Your life becomes the art there, and the art becomes the causeway by which others may cross to wonder.

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The post King of Mind | 2518 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

June 28, 2025

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Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

It is the graft that reveals the craft. 

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2025/06/27/2516-tales-untold/

Experience.Computer: https://experience.computer/
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Tales Untold

There is a book in you.

A story, a saga, untouched, awaits with potential just beneath the surface. Deep within the recesses of your mind, like marble awaiting the sculptor’s hand. Know this: it is there and you must find it. Somewhere within you is the tale that only you can tell. A story unique to you. Your voice and your imagination.

It may not bring fame. It may not bring laurels. In truth, it might not even be very good. But it is yours, and that alone is reason enough to bring it into being. Any humble story, written in fits and starts, over weeks, months and years, adds new thread to your creative life. For every story, no matter how simple or flawed, holds potential. Your book, no matter how imperfect, adds something new to the world.

So heed the call. And start the journey. Find the tome that resides within. Do a NaNoWriMo. A trial by fire, a forge for the fledgling writer. This challenge is a test of your creativity, but a trial of commitment and discipline. Over the course of a single moon, you face not just the blank page, but yourself. Your doubts, your fears of inadequacy, and your distractions. Within that month, your narrative may flourish or and falter, but if you complete it, you will emerge changed. This wordy challenge demands more than imagination; it requires graft.

A book is no gentle stroll through the Artist’s garden. It is a gauntlet, where you discover the essence of real diligence. The graft, not the craft of writing. You will learn that true creation is not a product of romanticised inspiration, but of daily dedication. Writing a book in a month is the accumulation of words. Sentences, paragraphs, and pages through the steady grind of repetition.

This is the unglamorous reality of writing: words pile up one by one, like footsteps on a long road. They may be clumsy, awkward and unsure, but each one brings you closer to the book in you. Through this process, the act of writing creates something real, tangible. A task that can be conquered not in a single sweep, but with steady effort. Each word you write is another chisel mark on the stone, each sentence a swipe of cloth upon a gem, the raw material of your story.

For it is restless labour, the ceaseless turning of thoughts into words, that transforms an ember into a roaring fire. Not all art springs forth from sporadic flashes of brilliance. Most arrive daily, in small bursts. Often difficult. You must learn to sit and do the work. Each word, of every sentence, is a victory. It is through this effort that the contours of your story will emerge, and the book within you will take shape.

This quest will not be without struggle. There will be days when the words do not come, when the story seems too heavy to move, inspiration far away. But it is in these moments, in the struggle, that the Artist must persist. Embrace the mundane, the rewrites, the awkward sentences, the late nights staring at the screen. Don’t wait for the next word, find it. This is the true work of creation, prove your commitment, not just to the story, but to yourself.

Each word you write, each piece of art you make is not just a contribution to your own story, but the breath of life into a world. As c haracters take form, their inner life and yours grows richer, plots begin to weave themselves together. Slowly, the chaotic mess becomes ordered, and what was once formless will take shape. 

Through persistence, the mundane becomes sublime, the simple profound.

A writing month will teach you that before there is craft—before there is finesse, style, and polish—there must be graft. Graft is the bedrock of all art, the foundation upon which all is built. It is the grind, the commitment to write even when the muse is silent, when every word feels like a battle. This is the part of the journey where the dreamers are separated from the doers, the wishers from the writers.

Just as a sculptor must first haul the heavy stone before they can begin carving, so must the writer gather a mass of raw material—ideas, scenes, dialogue, before the story can be refined. At first, the words may seem disjointed, fragmented, rough. But over time, through revision and perseverance, these scattered pieces can be polished, refined into a coherent whole.

Writing is an act of transformation. A before and after. 

The raw material of your thoughts, shaped through effort, becomes something finished. 

Remember, once again Artist. That a book does not emerge fully formed, as perfect as the dream. It will be rough, flawed, and unfinished. But through persistence and patience, it will take shape. You will find your voice, your rhythm, and your truth. And though that process, you will discover not just the story, but yourself.

So, dear Artist, do not shy away from this journey. A book within you waits. 

And remember, always, that it is the graft that reveals the craft. 

Start Select Reset 📑

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The post Tales Untold | 2516 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

May 17, 2025

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Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

Generosity is the protocol that transforms the web from a collection of isolated ‘contents’ into a thriving, interconnected community.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2025/05/17/2511-be-generous-online/

Experience.Computer: https://experience.computer/
Worldrunning.guide: https://worldrunning.guide/
Subscriber Zine! https://startselectreset.com/

Permanently moved is a personal podcast 301 seconds in length, written and recorded by @thejaymo

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Be Generous Online

A brief note: As of this episode, Permanently Moved (In the 301 second long format anyway) is now in it’s final season. Starting this endeavour in 2018 feels just like yesterday, but there is a great deal of effort and enterprise between now and then—now there’s just 10 shows to go.

I’m going to turn 40, take a break, and figure out exactly what Permanently Moved will become next. My physical zine Start Select Reset will still continue to go out to paid subscribers and will form the nucleus around whatever this show becomes. If you’d like to subscribe, sign up here.

As the artist sets sail upon the social seas, they must navigate the treacherous waters of digital culture. The algowinds push them toward shores where creativity is commodified, and memetic trends threaten to pull their craft off course. Yet, amidst the lure of platforms promising boundless expression, there lies a deeper truth: these are not the open oceans of creativity but false lakes—controlled and confined. They promise freedom yet cage your work in frames of content, isolating it from the context it needs to truly thrive.

One must resist the siren call of the platforms. They beckon with the promise of unfettered expression, presenting themselves as modern-day muses, kindling inspiration. But beneath this allure, lies deceit. These platforms encourage artists to anchor their work within an archive of commodified creations. They transform what we pour our souls into—into mere ‘content.’ This term, clinical and cold, strips away the intimacy and passion. What was once a labor of love is reduced to a commodity, ephemeral and detached.

What was once an extension of the self becomes a hollow shell, wrapped in advertisements, detached from the artist’s voice.  In this process our creations become adrift in a sea of contextless content. They lose their unique identity severed from the stories and emotions that once breathe life into them.

At the gateway to this expanse stands an unassuming sentinel: HTTP, the Hypertext Transfer Protocol. This protocol is more than just a technical foundation. Hypertext binds this world together, weaving disparate pieces of knowledge into a whole. It is not just a system of rules but a framework of interconnectedness. Each hyperlink is a bridge, a gesture of generosity.

The web was built for linking ideas, every page should feel like a node in this grand network, interconnected and alive. This is the behaviour we should model online.

Mat Dryhurst reminds us that protocol extends beyond rules—it is a way of interacting with the world. The protocol of the web should be generosity, not isolation. It should encourage us to link our creations, to build connections, to share freely.

Generosity is the protocol that transforms the web from a collection of isolated ‘contents’ into a thriving, interconnected community.

To be generous online is to break free from platforms that trap us in their false lakes. Sharing, collaboration. Link to your own writing, and more importantly, link to others. Let your creations be part of a greater conversation.

This act of sharing is not just technical but deeply human. It is a way of saying: “Here, take this and add your voice to it.” When we create in isolation, our work may drift, forgotten. But when we link our work, when we give it context, when we embed it in connections, it becomes alive. It resonates not only with its immediate audience but with the broader web of knowledge, ideas, and art.

Not all gestures online are equal. A retweet is but an empty echo in the void, a fleeting acknowledgment in the churn of content. It mimics connection but lacks depth. True generosity demands we slow down, take in the work before us, and respond with care. It asks that we engage, reflect, and build.

The hyperlink becomes a symbol of this generosity. A way to connect our ideas, stories, art, and lives. Each link we create is a testament to the collaborative potential of the web. It reminds us that creativity is not solitary but communal.

Let generosity be the protocol. Link to your writing, not out of vanity but as continuity. Showing how ideas evolve and interrelate. Link to others, freely and joyfully. In doing so, you enrich not only your work but the web itself, creating a space where ideas thrive through collaboration.

So, be generous. Share your work and share the work of others. In doing so, you will not only enrich the web—you will transform it into a space where creativity thrives and every contribution is a gift.

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The post Be Generous Online | 2511 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

May 3, 2025

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Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

Amidst the day-to-day rhythms of the body, The Artist must pay attention to the humble thoughts that might become great actions. These little ideas are found everywhere, always poised at the lip of ignition.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2025/05/03/2510-the-work-of-the-body-though-toil/

Experience.Computer: https://experience.computer/
Worldrunning.guide: https://worldrunning.guide/
Subscriber Zine! https://startselectreset.com/

Permanently moved is a personal podcast 301 seconds in length, written and recorded by @thejaymo

Subscribe to the Podcast: https://permanentlymoved.online/

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 The Work Of The Body, Though Toil

The Artist shapes their creations with rhythm.

Every work emerges from a quiet spark,
a solitary glow amidst the vast darkness of possibility.
In the artist’s garden, these sparks are cultivated with care,
fueled by imagination and guided by purposeful action.

Creation is movement. The work is a dance.

A steady cadence of starting fires and tending them.
Amidst the day-to-day rhythms of the body,
The Artist must pay attention to the humble thoughts
that might become great actions.
These little ideas are found everywhere,
always poised at the lip of ignition.

Any flicker of creativity, when held and nurtured,
can swiftly grow from fragile sparks into vibrant flames.

In the act of creation, The Artist breathes life into the embers.
With every exhalation, potential transforms into reality.

A careful labour, profound and patient.
The artist is both creator and custodian,
tending to each flame over time
until it becomes a blooming thing in their garden.

There will be crisis, storms that threaten,
and rains that extinguish.
But those embers that survive and persist
will, like morning coals, ignite anew.

Creation is alchemy.

The Artist’s role is to transmute ephemeral sparks
into steady, enduring lanterns.

This alchemy, born of sweat and breath, becomes the work.

Yet the journey does not end there.
With each new work, The Artist climbs the winding stairs of a lighthouse,
carrying their creations to the top step by step.
Each ascent adds another beacon to the tower.

The Artist’s life becomes a chain of lanterns, lit one by one—
each a product of repetition and effort.

Illuminating the world: a shining culture.

The work of the body, through toil,
becomes the body of work.

Together, these lanterns form a constellation
held together by their own story.
But beyond the flames of their own making,
other lights flicker out on the horizon,
beacons that glow briefly but brightly.

In the distance,
the fleeting blaze of digital interactions promises brilliance,
but these lights cannot last.

Shadows dance across the walls of the virtual world,
forms without weight.
Many chase these shadows, seeking fleeting applause
but shadows do not endure.

The Artist must resist these false lights,
instead tending to their own lanterns.
The fires of creation must be kept close
and nurtured within the self.

As the garden grows,The Artist must ring a bell.
Its ringing, however, does not diminish The Artist’s integrity.
The bell demands The Artist tell the body’s story.

Yet to tell this story
is like adjusting the mirrors of the lighthouse,
amplifying its glow to send further across the sea.

Yes, The Artist must carry their flame carefully.
When shared, it does not weaken.
It strengthens its light glowing
as it guides others to their own creative shores.

Each flame, each lantern,
is not an endpoint but a milestone
in the continuum of creation.

The roaring fires, once nurtured,
become solid, tangible works.
Up the lighthouse: a constellation of light.
These lanterns burn brightly
from long labour of body and spirit.

As The Artist labours,
the seasons of creation turn.
Spring brings new ideas—fragile and in need of warmth.
Summer sees the blaze of effort,
Autumn the harvest,
and Winter the reflection:

A time to rest, to breathe,
to gather firewood and dream of fires anew.

And always, through this rhythm, one truth remains:

The work of body becomes the body of work.

Each bead of sweat,
each strain of sinew,
each breath is devoted to creation—
played out day by day through The Artist’s toil.

All art is produced by the convergence of flesh and spirit.

Turn away from the fleeting allure of transient conversations,
for in the ephemeral digital world
all art fades quickly—
sinking below the surface of the social seas.

Whilst these quicksilver realms
may offer a momentary flicker,
the opportunity for lasting transformation and reform is rare.
The chance to find permanence is even scarcer.

The flame can always be swallowed by the waves.

Instead, keep it close.
Craft the work from the depths of your soul.
Let your hands meet the medium.
Let the chisel carve the stone,
let the brush stroke the canvas.
Let words weave worlds.

The Artist must be both creator and the creation.

Every moment,
every sound,
every letter is building the body of work.

To do.
The doing is to embrace this laborious dance.

All action is sacred.

Only after the work is done
does the artist find solace in their efforts—
seeing the lanterns they’ve lit,
knowing that the journey is never truly complete.

And in the end, all that remains is the fire:
the flames that light the world.

The artist’s lanterns, each carefully crafted and carried,
join the constellation of those who came before.

Each light.

Each body of work becomes part of the cosmos of creation—
a permanent guide for those who follow.

Start Select Reset 📑

Subscribing to SSRZ supports my online work and creative projects.

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The post  The Work Of The Body, Though Toil | 2510 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

April 5, 2025

|

Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

Rise, Artist! Forge on. Another reflection in my long running ‘Artist’ series, on why the journey matters more than the destination. Creation begets creation. Practice makes progress.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2025/04/05/2507-practice-makes-progress/

• Experience.Computer: https://experience.computer/
• Worldrunning.guide: https://worldrunning.guide/
• Subscriber Zine! https://startselectreset.com/

Permanently moved is a personal podcast 301 seconds in length, written and recorded by @thejaymo

Subscribe to the Podcast: https://permanentlymoved.online/

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Practice Makes Progress

Artist! The world awaits.
The path you take is yours.

The digital realm is boundless. A universe of endless potential. Pixels, pathways, and links stretch out like a superhighway. It is here in the seemingly infinite web of the internet that ideas can come to life with a single keystroke, where imagination is not confined by any borders. This cybersphere hums with potential, an evolving canvas where every thought transforms into a creation at the speed of light.

Here the artist dons many masks. With the tap of a keyboard, you may reveal your truest self or slip into a new persona. Do it under your own name or shield yourself behind an alias. The digital world offers freedom to express, explore, and experiment without limit. You can be the navigator, the mysterious voice amidst the chorus of identities. Whether a face of honesty or one veiled in mystery, your presence can hold power, shape ideas, and influence others.

Create with abandon. Write a blog, spin a story, compose a melody. Craft a meme. Each form of expression, no matter how small or whimsical, adds a bead to the necklace, another bottle on the wall. A spark carried forward in this vast landscape like a wildfire.

If your hands have yet to craft such works, do not hesitate, especially if you’ve never done it before. Light lamps, and plant seeds. This is the moment to begin the practice. And that practice is to continually begin.

There are rewards for those who try, who venture, who put one step forward into the unknown. It matters not if your blog has but a single reader, or if your music finds no ears. Creation itself is a sacred act. The joy of creation lies in the making, in the experience of channeling thought into form. The journey is the reward. Let the numbers and stats fall where they may, for they are but a distraction, a trap.

Do not stop at one. Create again. Craft anew. The artist must not rest after one solitary creation; there is always another waiting to begin. Each new work, a step forward, a brush stroke towards mastery.

If no one saw it, if no one heard it, you still saw it. You still felt it. You still made it. That is enough.

The artist’s journey is not to be measured in likes or shares, but in the richness of experience itself. For those who seek true mastery, the real currency is progress, and progress dear artist is the most valuable prize of all.

Let not the fleeting nature of online attention distract you. What is viral today will be forgotten tomorrow, but the artists need not be weighed down by this state of affairs. Instead, relish in the joy of play, experiment, fail like fireworks in the night sky. Explode and succeed in unexpected ways. The world is your playground. Treat it as such.

Let Joy be your companion. Follow it like a beacon, and you will find yourself creating, not because you seek approval, but because the process itself fulfills you. Whether you are painting with words, images, or sound, whether you are crafting something profound or simply silly, the act of creation should always be fun.

In this space of play, there is no pressure for immediate perfection. There is only joy of the attempt. The discovery of what you can do. Embrace it, laugh when you fail and rise to create again.

If others gaze upon your work and remain indifferent, let them. They do not diminish your effort or the beauty of your expression. A thousand shallow glances pale in comparison to the single heartfelt response of someone who truly saw what you’ve created. Let not the empty chase for approval cloud your purpose.

There is no greater victory than creating something that speaks to you, something that resonates with even one soul deeply. Even if that soul is your own.

Each creation is a new opportunity, a new lamp lit along the path, and in this repetition, this beautiful cycle of creation, reflection, and creation, growth is found. Each time you return to your craft, your skill deepens. Each attempt builds upon the last. It is this consistent, joyous repetition that mastery is born.

So rise artist, take up your tools and forge on. Write another word, play another note, and make another image. It matters not if they are seen or unseen, praised or ignored. What matters is the act itself, for in every keystroke, every brush, every click, you move forward. And forward is where the artist’s journey always leads.

Creation begets creation. Practice makes progress. And progress as you’ll come to see, dear Artist, is the most lasting reward of all.

Now go, create.

Start Select Reset 📑

Subscribing to SSRZ supports my online work and creative projects.

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The post Practice Makes Progress | 2507 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

September 17, 2023

|

Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

In the boundless ocean of the social seas, where ides and winds whip fleeting trends, the Artist must make sanctuary.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2023/09/17/301-2330-tend-soil/

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Tend Soil

In the boundless ocean of the social seas, where algorithms govern the ebb and flow of tides and winds whip fleeting trends, the Artist must make sanctuary. They must find their little Isle. A domain that’s solid against turbulent seas.

This sanctuary is more than just a coded plot or IP address amidst countless others. It is sacred ground. To merely claim this refuge as one’s own is not sufficient; akin to whispering into the wind. The Artist must create a stronghold of authenticity, a place immune to the constant fluctuations of digital popularity and influence.

Before the Artist can lay the first stone or plant the first seed in their garden, or write the first line of their diary, they must engage in a ritual as old as creativity itself: they must first – Tend Soil. This soil is not just physical terrain; it’s the preparatory work that creates the landscape of imagination. Makes it fertile where future work will take root. It is the tableau upon which dreams are sketched, the medium that accepts seeds willingly and provides them nourishment.

The initial act of tending is a foundational one. To tend, is to attend. In the digital realm where screens can become stages, canvases, and even windows to new worlds, the Artist requires a solid, secure platform from which to work. The soil of the Artist’s sanctuary is more than a backdrop; it’s the structural underpinning for all that comes next.

To cultivate this domain—to bring in nutrients, water, and elements of inspiration—is an act of sovereignty. Treat this soil as a partner. The Artist also stakes their claim not just upon the surface of their island, but to the data that flows from it. Assert ownership, not only of the ground itself but of the data that populates it.

Every brush stroke, every written word, and every fragment of artistic endeavour are the Artists by right. Here, in this sanctuary, love is not only the law; it’s the cornerstone of their creative constitution. By asserting this dominion, the Artist makes an explicit contract with themselves, setting the terms under which their creativity will flourish, free from outside interference.

There will come a time when the Artist must venture away from shore. Sailing through archipelagos of third-party platforms where the allure of exposure beckons like a siren’s call. When this journey becomes inevitable, let the Artist only seek harbours that share their ethos, and resonate with their creative ideals. The choice of platform—whether the sleek technocratic islands of Squarespace or the sprawling open isles of WordPress—is more than a logistical decision; it’s a choice steeped in ethical considerations. Seek platforms that are kindred spirits.

If the soil serves as the canvas, then the software and protocols employed by the Artist are the tools of the craft! When the options are laid before you, opt for tools (where possible) forged by the hands of open-source communities and delivered by open protocols. In making these choices, the Artist reinforces a cycle of creative empowerment, making their island not just sanctuary, but a beacon for like-minded souls.

Each creation, whether shared or kept in private chambers, polished or still rough-hewn, is a treasure.They demand safeguarding.

Remember, even the most idyllic islands can be struck by storms or overtaken by unexpected tides. Let the cautionary tale of myspace the isle that vanished without a trace serve as a constant reminder.

Back up your treasures, both digitally and in tangible forms. Keep duplicates. The axiom “One is none, two is one” holds true.

Archive not just final products, but also drafts. The sketches, the incomplete thoughts. They are fragments of your journey, stepping stones along the path. Your records are both your history and your map. The annals of your artistry will serve future versions of yourself, guiding you when you explore new places and face uncharted challenges.

Let us not forget, even amidst all these preparations and precautions, storms may arise, tides may turn, and you might return from bad weather to an island lost to the vagaries of time. Yet, let this possibility not deter but fortify. The ability to rebuild, to begin anew, is a testament to the resilient spirit of the Artist. The soil is always alive. It is an invitation to not only reconstruct but to reimagine, to evolve and transform. Make each loss as a prologue to rebirth. 

Your sanctuary, your own domain is a statement, a perspective, a declaration. It’s where your creativity lives, breathes, and, most importantly, continues to grow.

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The post Tend Soil | 2330 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

July 15, 2023

|

Permanently Moved 🔊 | The Artist 🧑‍🎨

I realise that I was not done trying to articulate why The Artist should start a dairy. So today I have also done something I’ve never done before in 230+ episodes, I’ve made the same episode again. A second run up at the same subject from the same set of notes. There may, in future, be a 3rd iteration of this episode with passages taken from both episodes.

A companion to Episode 2320: Stale Yesterdays.

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I realise that I was not done trying to articulate why The Artist should start a dairy. So today I have also done something I’ve never done in over 230+ episodes, I’ve made the same episode again. A second run up at the same subject from the same set of notes.

There may, in future, be a 3rd iteration of this episode with passages taken from both episodes – not on the podcast feed but for ‘a thing’.

A companion to Episode 2320: Stale Yesterdays.

There is a Well of Words Within You

We have spoken much of navigation. The Artist has endured creative droughts and ascended great heights. But eventually, regardless of events,  circumstance or discipline, there comes a time when the artist must make sense of where they are and where they have been.

Some may choose to draw a map. A symbolic representation of selected characteristics of a place. Others may document the depths, and the tides, and the forces of the sea.

A sea chart is ultimately a map of movement. 

The Gardner too must keep track of movement. Not through space, but in time. When each year does the winter make its quiet exit? When does the first rose unfurl its crimson heart to the world? and when are the first warbles of the willow heard upon the wind?

All artists voyage under the turning of the stars. Journeys will change their course, and lovers bid farewell. As the world changes, the Artist changes. As the artist changes, so does the nature of the work.

The Artist has two feet and with them takes two steps to move forward. With one foot, the physical voyage. This dual motion, like a pendulum, one step after another.

The Artist must make sense of their movements. Where and when have they been?

To do so, they need an instrument capable of capturing this oscillation between outer and inner worlds.

To this end: The Artist must keep a diary.

In the solitude of writing, the Artist finds upon the page a silent companion that listens without judgement. The diary serves as the compressive force, enabling psychic transformation.

The Artist must write freely. Thoughts, raw and unfiltered – the structured conscious mind gracefully dances to the rhythm of the wild, unfettered subconscious Thoughts must cascade down the Artist’s hands like a waterfall, to a rhythm a melody only they can comprehend. Words, and emotions once captive in the mind, set free. Here, in this intimate enclave, the tactile world of sensory experiences melds with the ethereal whispers of intuition and insight. 

The Artist must learn to write at the speed of thought. The pages of the diary offers an unvarnished platform for the Artist’s current state of being. A stage upon which the Artist can perform without masks, costume, or pretence.

Write a few pages every day.

Dark thoughts are a poison, expel them.

The burdensome worries of yesterday and the looming anxieties of tomorrow can be liberated. Exhale them onto the page. One day, one word at a time, a weight is lifted from the Artist’s soul.

There is an endless well within you, a well of words.

Thoughts and feelings. They must escape the cloistered confines of the mind. By the artist’s hand words written in a diary are a conduit, a channel, that bridges the internal cosmos and the external realm. A bridge between the timeless and the temporal. One step after another. 

Every sunrise, every breath, every new day brings a fresh page. This should not daunt the Artist. It merely reflects the truth: there is one day after another. The diary is not a simple vessel – it is more than yesterday’s stories. It’s a white expanse that beckons the Artist to map the contours of their inner world.

Every entry, every line, every word connects the Artist’s heart and mind to something real. Pinning the ephemeral to the actual. Shapeless clouds into solid sculptures. The diary over time becomes an emotional atlas. A tool to encourage introspection and mindfulness. Compelling the Artist each morning to dwell in the ‘now’. Capturing their rawest essence in its most candid form. To write at the speed of thought is to be alive to the magic of the moment.

As the pages fill, overtime patterns will emerge. time the artist may choose to re-read their diary and see themselves as they saw it as the time. The Artist as they trace their journey can chase these threads of thought and emotion, and understand the pattern that makes up the tapestry. Insight into their own mind’s workings; The Artists feelings, inspirations, and their fears.

Armed with self-knowledge, the Artist can stand upon the firm ground of their little isle.

And yet, the diary, much like the Artist’s journey, is never truly complete. As one entry concludes, another is ready to begin. With each new day, new experiences, new emotions, and thoughts arise, demanding to be acknowledged and understood.

The Diary used as an instrument is part of the journey. Not just a record, but a guide.

An active practice of self-reflection and self-understanding is the only way an Artist can survive the journey.

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The post There is a Well of Words Within You | 2324 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

June 11, 2023

|

Permanently Moved 🔊, The Artist 🧑‍🎨

It is a choice to carry stale yesterdays into tomorrow. Shed the flotsam and idle chatter from the surface of the mind. Writing a diary is a daily exorcism.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2023/06/11/301-2320-stale-yesterdays/

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Permanently moved is a personal podcast 301 seconds in length, written and recorded by @thejaymo

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Stale Yesterdays

We have spoken much of navigation.
The Artist’s journey under unfamiliar skies. 

We have paid attention to what The Artist is doing and where they are going. Too, have we spoken of The Gardener and The Dance. But eventually, regardless of circumstance or discipline, there comes a time when The Artist must ‘make sense’.

Make sense of where they are and where they have been. 

Some may draw maps, symbolic representations of selected characteristics of place. Others may navigate by charts of tides and forces of the sea. The Gardener too must navigate – not in space, but through time. When do the shoulders of the season begin to shrug? When did the last rose bloom? and when did the first warbles of the willow carry on the wind?

All work unfolds amidst the turning of the earth. The work changes as The Artist changes. The nature of the adventure changes too. Just as friends and companions change, loved ones depart and others arrive. 

So the artist must, at some point, make sense of where they have been:

The artist must keep a diary, and they must write in it – every single day. 

Tolstoy said: “Art begins when a man, with the purpose of communicating to other people a feeling he once experienced, calls it up again within himself and expresses it by certain external signs”.

A diary’s only audience is the artist.

There is an endless well of words, thoughts and feelings within you. Draw them from the deep and them forth for 20 mins every single day. Express the experiences one has experienced, the thoughts thought, and feelings felt. The diary is a deeply private space. How The Artist felt the day the art got made. 

The Artist must learn to automatic write. The Artist must write at the speed of thought. Every single pickled thought and sour feeling can travel from the soul, out of the body, and be purged upon the page.

It is a choice to carry stale yesterdays into tomorrow. Writing them down becomes a daily exorcism. A shedding of all the flotsam and idle chatter at the surface of the mind.

Re-reading a diary makes the words of yesterday, useful for tomorrow. Over time amidst the rhythm of its creation you may see patterns. It will reveal weeks, months, even years of regular negative self talk amidst The Adventure. 

The Artist upon review will uncover insights, patterns, recurring themes – illuminating the innate sense of intuition and revealing hidden truths about oneself.

Confronting your own words, your own thoughts and feelings, is a practice of deep introspection. To witness your own growth is to understand your own change. Yesterday is not solid, but a shifting and malleable canvas upon which The Artist can paint anew each day. 

The artist though this process however, does not empty their mind – but instead fill it up with emptiness. A space to think new thoughts and feel new feelings as the day begins. 

A diary not a catalogue, but as a space for growth. The Artist’s value is not tied to the words they spill onto the page, nor the amount they produce, nor the frequency of insight. A diary is the work of the moment, not its product. 

Henry Miller once said, “To paint is to love again. It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees.”

The Artist too must look at their own diary with eyes of love. Seeing not just a record of their thoughts and feelings, but a testament to their own existence. Their own resilience, their own capacity to love, the hurt, the hopes, and all the dreams of doing the doing.

The Artist’s diary, this treasure trove of self, is much more than just a confessional space. It is a canvas of the now. Each morning ink may bloom upon the page, ideas unfurling like sails in creative winds. The artist must record their life each and every day. Each stroke of the pen, made without fear of judgement or the pressure of expectation.

As the artist continues to journey, to navigate unfamiliar landscapes both outside and within, the diary will remain the one constant companion. A silent witness to the evolution of the soul. This journal becomes a tapestry of thought and emotion. The work of writing and recording each day becomes an offering to the future self. Over time The Artist leaves behind the past selves and forgotten dreams, that were written in the present. Thoughts thought at the surface of the mind.

So Artist, remember to make sense of where you’ve been. Begin with a blank page and a willingness to bare your soul. Create your own map, chart your own ocean, write your own almanack.

The artist’s journey is not a straight line, but a spiral. If you leave stale yesterday’s inside, it is impossible to navigate by the deeper truths that can be found amdist the diaries rhythm. It is the diary that The Artist builds upon the island’s highest peak. 

It is said that to journey is to be an artist.
And to be an artist is to make sense of the journey.

Watch

The post Stale Yesterdays | 2320 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

April 30, 2023

|

Permanently Moved 🔊, The Artist 🧑‍🎨

The artist has made sanctuary upon their little Isle, found stable ground. Now they plant a garden. For it is there the work can flourish

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2023/04/30/301-2315-embrace-cadence-find-rhythm/

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Embrace Cadence, Find Rhythm

The artist has made sanctuary upon their little Isle, found stable ground.

Now they plant a garden.

For it is there the work can flourish on home soil. Let their creations grow roots in persistent mediums. Deep soil of blogs and web domains. The artist can plant seeds here and watch them flourish. It is from this garden sheltered from virtual storms that the artist can do the work that transcends popular concern.

The chronology of cyberspace has shattered old certainties. Old methods overtopped by a ceaseless tide. The temporal fabric now woven by algorithmic sirens into an eternal ‘now’. 

A garden and a lighthouse. These are the things the artist needs upon their stable isle. 

The former a safe haven, the later a beacon of guidance and consistency.

So let the artist leave the garden and build a lighthouse upon sanctuary’s highest peak. Through future storms let it blink steadfast, cutting across the raging seas. Let the light’s rhythm be an anchor to the artist as well as others.

Embrace the cadence of a lighthouse and the calendar. Refuse to submit to chaos.

So too must the artist find rhythm in the garden. Be it the demands of a job, the responsibilities of family, or the unexpected twists of fate let the artist find their tempo. Do not be enslaved by the expectations of others. Allow the art of the garden to rise with the sun, dance with the afternoon wind, and be guided by the moon’s gentle glow. 

Someday the artist may choose to leave sanctuary and navigate unknown seas. May the rhythm of its lighthouse be a comfort and a guide. Sculpt a tempo of one’s own amidst fragments of others scattered content . The artist must find their own cadence, a creative spirit that pulses like a heartbeat.

Do not let the garden be overrun by weeds, The needs of retweets, likes and follows are unhelpful allies. Resist the siren’s call of engagement from beyond the sea. Pursue authenticity. Know thyself; for in the depths of you, the purest art is born.

For the artist who persists, who commits to the doing of the doing, rhythm becomes its own sanctuary. Forge ahead. 

Like the heroes of epics past, let one’s creative odyssey be a saga of perseverance and triumph. But know too there is as much glory in the garden as on the battlefield. You do not have to fight to be remembered, good soil is appreciated by all plant, beast and being a like. 

Tending a garden takes time – do a little every day.

The artist must balance life’s demands with the call of creative passion. Work in the garden is always calling, there is always more to do. New work planted keeps other work alive. 

It is by repetition that one weaves a tapestry. Woven one warp and weft at a time. Let your commitment to the pattern be unshakable. Feel your heart aflame with passion for the work.

The world of course turns. Inside longer cycles, faster tempos must be found. Through the doing of the doing each day, each week, each month, the work becomes monument. A safe and stable platform from which to do the work.

The work at first may flourish. Bear generous fruit, enjoyed by both the artist and the audience. But beware, however long or brief the blooming, it will lose its lustre. Guests will leave and once again the artist will find themselves all alone. They must return to work, sowing and pruning, finding fulfilment in the doing. 

Nor can work cut and taken from the garden and placed upon a plinth ever be put back into the ground. Things will never be the same. One cannot look back upon the past beauty of spoiled flowers.

There is no smell worse than former glory left in a vase.

The cycle of work, from seed to softening and decay, is a natural rhythm. All work becomes compost ready for the next. This is how the platform of the artist’s safe soil is raised.

As the garden becomes a deeper haven, the artist will find ever greater sanctuary. More time to tend its soil. Their island becomes a world apart from tumultuous social seas. The rhythm of the lighthouse up above standing tall. Illuminating, guiding the artist and the others through the unknown.

In the digital realm, from the tranquillity of the garden the artist creates on their own time. They find the time to do the work, and create a rhythm with its publishing. The edges of one’s garden are a boundary, welcome home the home page reads. Regular work done here amidst old growth and young seedling cultivates and refines self expression.

When rooted deeply in the soil, made up of past commitments and expended effort, the work will world its own world. The rhythm of the lighthouse may bring others to your little isle, with whom share generously. Do not tolerate visitors seeking to grade and critique, for in ones own garden there is never best in show. 

The nature and the tempo of the work will change with the seasons, this in turn this will change the artist. In the slow garden the artist cultivates creative identity. The creative light of the lighthouse blinks out, pushing back the dark night of the forever now.

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The script above is the original script I wrote for the episode. It may differ from what ended up in the episode in the edit.

If you’d like to support this blog and its various projects, please consider making a regular contribution here. It genuinely helps me keep things up and running, so thank you!

The post Embrace Cadence, Find Rhythm | 2315 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

March 18, 2023

|

Permanently Moved 🔊, The Artist 🧑‍🎨

From nowhere north winds may howl. Waves may rise with such violent fury that they may come to threaten the artist’s craft. In such times the artist must lash themselves to the mast of their own integrity. Muster all the courage and strength they have, and do what they can.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2023/03/18/301-2310-there-will-be-crisis/

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There Will Be Crisis

The artist has now made sanctuary upon their island. Found rhythm amidst domestic movements and the turning of the stars. A space and time in which to do the doing. A stable platform on which to do the work. It is in this environment that the artist gets things done.

But such is the nature of the artist. That they are ever ready to explore new forms, mediums, and temperament. Thus, from a still cove at their island’s edge, the artist builds a craft of their own design and devising. Now the artist charts a course! Sets sail with intention, braving social seas in search of new lands and fresh inspiration.

At first a golden sun will shine upon their face and winds be fair and fine. A journey taken day by day and week by week. The artist on their travels may encounter other captains of destiny. Fellow travellers and collaborators, together in community they may chart courses through wild seas. 

Or the artist navigates alone. By gut instinct without maps or story. Every sunrise is a new move, in the great game. Art created from the heart, documenting their journey. No longer are bottles tossed or left – they become way markers. Tracks for others to explore and follow.

And when at last the artist returns to sanctuary: with them they bring treasures. New threads woven in the tapestry of their art, enriched with colours from a wider world. It is at this moment that the artist must not succumb to temptation. For it is too easy to fall into indolence and decadence. To rest upon one’s laurels and bask in the warmth of new dreams and done things. In such moments, the artist must resist the siren’s song of complacency. Not for one moment can the artist stop to marvel at the depth and breadth of their vision. For it is only work. 

For a time the sun may shine, yet the artist must be ever vigilant. The weather may turn, winds shift and seas grow rough. Life and circumstances may change at any time.

There will be crisis. 

From nowhere north winds may howl. Waves may rise with such violent fury that they may come to threaten the artist’s craft. In such times the artist must lash themselves to the mast of their own integrity. Muster all the courage and strength they have, and do what they can. The boat may capsize and it is both soul and sunrises that will help right the keel.

Money may become scarce. Seasons of asperity experienced all across the isle. This part of the voyage may be long and treacherous. The artist must do nothing but create and survive, press ever on. For in the end it is not the wealth or fame they may attain, but the light they bring into the world that matters. 

There will be times of deep despair. The artist will be afraid. Afraid that they aren’t the person they believed themselves to be. But this fear is not unique to the artist, it is a universal fear felt by all. They must remember: the work now, as it was back in better days, is always a reflection of the current moment. This work is left behind and builds a body of work. 

Dreams will become but a distant memory but the artist must remain steadfast and true, for even in the darkest of times, a light still burns within them. They must seek sanctuary, and do the doing, with rhythm. For it is in the doing that the artist finds their way out of the dark. Stronger and more inspired than ever before.

So let the artist take heart, and let them never forget that they are not alone in their struggles. An audience stands before them. But there are muses stood behind them, whispering inspiration into the wind. It is through the doing of the dream, that guides the artist to the done. 

Just as any captain must maintain their ship, the artist must not neglect the vessel with which they sail their craft upon the open seas. The winds and waves of inspiration may be strong, but the artist must remember to eat well, sleep well and exercise. 

Through all the perils and challenges that they may face, the artist must remain steadfast and true. Any change in weather will result in a change in context. A commitment to the craft however is not a commitment to the current boat The artist must be prepared to abandon ship at any time. To build new boats and find new routes. With courage and resilience, with creativity and commitment, the artist will navigate any wild seas. However, courses charted or found and followed by chance are fraught with peril.

For the sea is so very vast and unforgiving, and your boat is so very, very small.

Watch

The script above is the original script I wrote for the episode. It may differ from what ended up in the episode in the edit.

If you’d like to support this blog and its various projects, please consider making a regular contribution here. It genuinely helps me keep things up and running, so thank you!

The post There Will Be Crisis | 2310 appeared first on thejaymo.net.

February 4, 2023

|

Attention 🎯, Permanently Moved 🔊, The Artist 🧑‍🎨

The artist should not concern themselves with the effervescent present of social media.

Full Show Notes: https://thejaymo.net/2023/02/04/301-2305-not-only-in-the-now/

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Permanently moved is a personal podcast 301 seconds in length, written and recorded by @thejaymo

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Not Only in the Now

As artists we express ourselves through art, poetry, fiction, film, music, sculpture, dance or whatever. But the moment you put any of it online it becomes content. 

Not because the modern world has consciously chosen to devalue a work of expression down to one generic term. But because of the nature of the web itself. 

HTML or Hypertext Markup Language requires all web pages to consist of the building blocks known as elements. 

HTML elements begin with an angle bracket, or start tag. This tells the browser what kind of element it is. Open bracket, P, Close bracket, indicates a paragraph element. Then some text goes in, and then a different tag, Open bracket, slash, P, Close bracket, indicates an element has come to an end. 

Everything that goes between an opening and closing tag is called Content. 

For example, a line of text in HTML is written like this

<p> This is the element's content.</p>

When transmuted through a digital interface and placed on the world wide web, all art becomes content.

The artist must focus not on the content they are going to create, but the kind of art. The moment of upload is the creative victory. Everything else is up to the audience. 

However.

The artist must be mindful of the carrier waves  – on the other side of the platforms interface – that will carry the work out into the digital ocean. 

There are obvious differences between Twitter and Youtube, Tumblr or Instagram. But they all share the same core concept – the chronological feed.

The navigation of content by time. 

You log in to see the latest tweets; watch the newest videos, hear the latest music. The most recent thing is the most relevant. The feed’s logic so implies, that older things are less relevant. As you scroll down, you move further away from the present. Pull down to refresh the relevant.

The home screen is a shoreline the artist must cast their work out from. A message in a bottle to be carried off, into the swell of a platform’s social seas.  

To remain at the surface, the work must acquire the quality of virality. Bobbing back to the top with each reblog. The work may contain some artistic truth. But alas, without social buoyancy; no matter how true, the work will fade and sink into the deep dark depths. No longer of the now but of the past.

Further issues arise when work is cast into algorithmic feeds. The platform’s one-thing-after-another-logic is lost. Relevance and recency so elegantly signalled by the top of the feed now obscured. Narrative dissolved, context collapsed. 

TikTok’s feed has never treated recency as relevant. The home screen is not a shoreline, but a glass bottomed boat. Like from deep ocean currents, content is brought up to the surface on your behalf. Relevance inferred from opaque statistical models of historical consumption.

All consumption on feed based platforms takes place at the network’s turbulent and frothy surface. Meaning-Full content in the short term, becomes Meaning-Less within hours. It is always ‘now’ on social media. Social platforms privilege the present. Concerned only with what happens next, not what came before.

Time and topic should be the dominant concerns of the artist making content.
When was the work created? and what when was the work created for? 

I spoke earlier about HTML, let us now speak of the URL – Uniform Resource Locator. 

Twitter, Facebook, and Wikipedia are all the same. All resources located at web addresses.

The most important thing is, that the artist can own one too.

Start a blog, build a website, write a newsletter, start a podcast, do whatever.
Just do it on your own domain.

The artist must make sanctuary upon their own little island. Till its soil, and build a lighthouse atop it its highest peak. Draw treasure maps and cast them adrift from the islands shoreline, not someone else’s.

The work is from home soil, always relevant and stable at the end of a weblink. Searchable. Made for the long term. Persistent. The work becomes part of an evolving and expanding archive. Links are the currents that the work follows along, travels across and through. It’s called web-surfing in cyber-space after all. 

The world wide web is an ocean. Endless in breadth and in depth.

The island artist does not concern themselves with the effervescent present of social media. Instead create work for the long term. Slower work made for more persistent mediums. The artist lives within deeper time and even deeper links. 

The work may link to related work, or to people who inspire and influence. Who in turn may link back to you. Work may be placed in context, or juxtaposed. Unlike social platforms, the wider web does not hide its complexity, but embraces it.

The web is a dense network, held in tension and compression with everything else. Structural. Tensegrity is a watchword for the artist. Integrity is work made for the longer them. 

This work, an audio work, is made for persistence, made with persistence, week after week. 

I hope (from one artist to another) that it will remain relevant. Not only in the now, but to others at the end of a link, somewhere else and somewhere when.

Watch

The script above is the original script written for the episode. It may differ from what ended up in the edit.

If you’d like to support this blog and its various projects, please consider making a regular contribution here. It genuinely helps me keep things up and running, so thank you!

The post Not Only in the Now | 2305 appeared first on thejaymo.net.