thoughts on Fuck, part one

A new friend asked the other day about “the word”. And I thank her for the question.
I don’t get it enough.

She asked me if it meant something or if it was just gratuitous.

I suppose I have plenty to say about this, so lets see how we go.

I believe I could be accused of gratuitous use of the word, in the same way that Quentin Tarantino could be accused of the gratuitous use of the word fuck in his films.
I however would not accuse him of it. His use of “the word” was not only justified, but indeed there would be none of the sense of power, life and urgency, or it wouldn’t be so real, without the use of the f-word, the f-bomb, that word or fuck, as I would prefer to say.
This is how people speak, in this type of situation.

This is how I speak when I’m in a stressful situation.
Which is what I have found my life has turned out to be.

So, instead of only going around muttering, or screaming! FUCK I decided to start putting it down. (continues after the fold)

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
KFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUC
CKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU
UCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

I first painted fuck on a big canvas, painted with two fucks, red on yellow with a dynamic stripe too. (not a dynamic ribbon device, something I have used in another series of works) about 1996 or 7 so that’s getting on towards twenty years ago now.
It was a ripper, I have a photo of my mum asleep on the couch below it when she came to visit me and deigned to enter. Didn’t happen too often. hmm, it would be a major distraction going to look for that foto now, but I should.

I planned out an entire series of works based around the word, mainly based on logos and similar or in homage to a lot of famous works from art history. I never painted the majority of them though.

I know that a friend of mine, had a t-shirt that said fuck in a lot of different fonts, in many directions. I am sure that that t-shirt was a major influence on me. That friend, who is now a doctor (I did meet her in medical school, but neither she nor I made it past second year. She however went and studied microbiology, and I went and worked in a dog food barn, true story) (haha) was probably a major influence on me.

I don’t know if she remembers the following factoid about my life, but I would suppose she probably does; I must ask her when I next talk to her. I am leaving her nameless here, but she would know herself from the description so far. She was the one who convinced me to try smoking dope, as I had come from a mindset that I didn’t want to try that thing. Well, I would have to say this was a major influence on my life. I remember it really very well, although lately my memory hasn’t been the best. The only downside to thirty years smoking weed. Or maybe it’s the damage I did as a binge drinker for ten years. Who knows.

Anyway I have spent a fair bit of time here and didn’t want to spend more, so lucky I did title this part one.

I just want to say I think the work I have put in to repeat the word, or weeks and months leaves me safe from the accusation of gratuitousness. Defined variously as “not called for by the circumstances” “Unnecessary or unwarranted; unjustified” etc. I think I could make the case for my use of the word fuck that clearly shows it as being called into being by the various circumstances of my life.
However, I will not be making that case, right here, right now, for the aforementioned time constraints. I will however, be making more posts on the topic so I am sure to get round to it soon.
I will publish this, and if I can find that foto, I will edit to stick ‘er in there.
Thanks for reading if you have.