The plan yesterday did not include making these. However…
Water-soluble graphite crayon & acrylic paint on tracing paper
+ water-soluble oil paint on cardboard
= collage,
each collage 9″ X 12″ – I will fold these, later, maybe after more collage
into an ongoing visual art ‘book’ project.
Distressed cardboard – scored and scraped while the paint is wet. I see a shape to develop.
I stand in the rain
(alchemy begins)
curving like a river
(sparkling like radioactive particles)
loosening dried flecks of ink
swallow and
(flow through the manuscript factory)
curvilinear like a small and large intestine
sweeping & twisting
on television
experts prove it never happened
dance the paper airplane dance
launch-jab pantomime
surround a plaster statue
launch-jab pantomime
Julius Caesar
spies a peacock bobbing his moon-of-Jupiter head
spitting ‘Vox clamantis in deserto
the conspiracy unfolds’
a small and large intestine swallows the light of the sun
I dance myself into a golden egg.
Perhaps John Lennon never
considered old flat top a dolmen
never say never
I heard them say
in John Lennon world
You got to be free
forever
north south east west
never say never
I heard them say
beneath
beside
bequeathing dolmens
bequeathing breath
infinity
soul
north south east west
never say never
I heard them say.
I worked on the back porch early
drinking black coffee
like in a trance
creating expressive black & white works on paper
I thought of as ‘cave art.’
As the rising sun created light and heat
Denisovans climbed the back stairs
to the porch.
Denisovans stood watching me
in a dark and cool room.
I pointed outside the window
they touched their skin.
A classic Piet Mondrian composition collaged incorporating a photograph of my sister’s heroic torn dishcloth.
A ceiling light reflected on the floor, beside the dishcloth, resembling the flame of an oil lamp.
A dyed cotton weave delivering flame to Mondrian’s composition.
Mondrian’s static & inorganic (yet dynamic) composition collaged with incongruity, warmth & organic emotion.
Energy (like Van Gogh’s sunflowers) frayed & twisted contrasting with Mondrian’s geometric formula.
‘Do you need a ride home?’
‘Yes, I just arrived.’
‘Where will you be staying?’
‘Wherever they will have me and speak the truth.’
‘Have you heard of television?’
‘I have read The Little Box poems by Vasko Popa.’
‘Those are two different things.’
‘I know.’
I listened earlier to Bob Dylan singing ‘As I Went Out One Morning’ and put up a blog post about the revolutionary Tom Paine and the lyrics to the song (on Dylan’s 1968 John Wesley Harding album) and a photo of Bob receiving the 1963 Thomas Paine award (& how he went on a rant against the respectable liberal audience) & so it goes. In the end I decided to simply show this B&W art (Medieval Gamblers) created in Photoshop today via digital collage & possibly using elements of ink drawings. I could feel the atmosphere of the medieval inn, and textures like wood and burlap, and the mood of danger lurking. There seems to also be danger lurking here & now so it’s not so difficult to intuit. As for gambling I’ve never allowed others to gamble with me. At least I’ve tried & so it goes.
As I went out one morning
To breathe the air around Tom Paine’s
I spied the fairest damsel
That ever did walk in chains
I offer’d her my hand
She took me by the arm
I knew that very instant
She meant to do me harm
“Depart from me this moment”
I told her with my voice
Said she, “But I don’t wish to”
Said I, “But you have no choice”
“I beg you, sir,” she pleaded
From the corners of her mouth
“I will secretly accept you
And together we’ll fly south”
Just then Tom Paine, himself
Came running from across the field
Shouting at this lovely girl
And commanding her to yield
And as she was letting go her grip
Up Tom Paine did run,
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said to me
“I’m sorry for what she’s done”
– Bob Dylan, 1968
Running backwards on a night when all is lost.
When you cannot remember what is lost.
When you see the night-sky running backwards.
This is a painted mask.
This is also a painted mask.
This is a complimentary cookie in a wax paper bag stapled to a brown paper bag.
I posted a few days ago about the cow in the time machine
a few minutes later
I sat outside a cafe on a bench waiting for take-out food.
I read about a cow in the book I grabbed on the way out
then again on the previous page
then I looked to see the title of the chapter.
This is…synchronicity.
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