Willy! Another new friend.

Annyth and I are celebrating the Christmas holidays outside Columbus, OH with family. All of the people, young and old, are creative, generous, intelligent, and talented; but there’s one who stands out above the rest: Willy, a magnificent Portuguese Water Dog.
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Mapping Isobarks in Dog Owners’ Sound Sheds

OK, I may be introducing some new terms and concepts here, so bear with me. If you Google sound shed, you’ll notice that sound shed has already been coined. However, it seems to have been fashioned somewhat literally, as in sounds in an actual shed out back. I’m using the term in a more figurative way, as in the way shed is used in water shed, where shed is like an amorphous vault within which phenomena can be associated, conceived, or perceived. For years I’ve used the expression view shed, and I don’t think I coined that. Similarly, smell shed; although, I haven’t heard or seen that used by anyone else, but imagine suddenly strolling into a hot, humid, summer, nightblooming jasmine, smell shed or rolling down your window at the landfill’s smell shed or being stuck in a meeting within a former hippie’s patchouli smell shed. So why not sound? Sound travels, and it wafts into a transterritorial volume that could, not easily, be measured in cubic increments, and if you’re situated within that dome, voluntarily or involuntarily, and if you’re equipped at least average hearing capability, then you and your normal ears are in a sound shed. If you’re lucky, it’s an outdoor concert, and your ears and other senses are being delighted, especially if you’ve already acquired a contact high because of associated smell-shed activity. If you’re unlucky, you’re in the sound shed of someone driving a vehicle that can barely hold itself together because every part is vibrating loose in response to awefully loud and offensive music; but, this is temporary. It passes.

If you’re really unlucky, you may find yourself held captive in an irresponsible dog owner’s sound shed, at the center of which is one or more innocent dogs. That’s what inspired this drawing. Let me emphasize that I find the owners culpable and not the dogs. They, these owners, as I have illustroblogged about elsewhere – oh, and here too – are speaking through their pets, and their message, encrypted as it is, is clear: “Forget about tranquility!”

Now, “Isobarks?” This is simply a way to visualize and measure the content and shape of this kind of sound shed. They’re self explanatory; but, if you have any questions, please feel free to use the comment section below.

Also, I have to be somewhat forgiving. In the first place, I have a dog. When my wife and I are away, and he’s alone, I’m not sure whether he’s creating a temporary sound shed with bright red isobarks. If so, well, I guess you could use the comment section below to create a complaint shed.

isobarks and sound sheds

Dogs and Ventriloquy

Dogs are remarkable. In some ways they’re our artifacts, and we speak through them. In others ways we’re their artifacts, and they speak through us.

Dogs and Ventriloquy

See also “bark…bark…bark

I’m trying out some things in Sketch Club, like using my finger and not a stylus.

Cowboy with Ball in the Grass

Yesterday’s post attracted the attention of a few dog lover bloggers, probably the #dog tag … :-). I’ve had a dog-on dog on my mind and at my side all day long, so earlier this afternoon I asked Annyth if she had a good picture of our Belgian Tervuren, Cowboy. She sent several. I chose this one because of his eyes.

cowboyinthegrasswithball

This is a digital, freehand, side-by-side, iPad drawing using a reference photo and a Sty-HD stylus.

bark bark bark

bark bark bark

bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…bark…but still worth having the window open. Good night.

NOTE: We haven’t yet moved into our new house. This is an old, innocent dog from the old Ragsdale neighborhood.