Forgive me. It's been two weeks since my last conf...- oh sorry, blog entry. Sometimes I have so many areas to work on at once I find I just get a bit manic and try to cover all bases a little bit every day.
Over the last two weeks I have been working on upwards of thirty new paintings, have completed three poems about my thoughts and experiences, and I have been continuing a series of short stories which I hope to publish sometime in the relatively near future.
Coupled with this I squeezed a morning painting session down by the salt lake with four other artists. I think for me it was important to do this, as I spend so much of my time locked away in my studio. I got such a buzz of having like minded company and for the first time in a long time felt free to paint without restrictions. I completed two paintings during that two hour 'en plein air' session, the first was relatively recognisable if you know the area, while the second was a loose, quite abstract version of the same scene. The lack of restriction for me was liberating and actually fuelled me with more enthusiasm when I got back to the studio. My thanks to Maurice, Ron, John and Mike for the company. We will do it again sometime.
All this done amid the usual daily email queries from galleries, newspapers and the public. To prove I have been busy and not just supping coffee I will let you see one of my latest poems. Your opinions are welcome.
PLASTER-CAST PROFANITIES
Often talked, but last in line,
eaves dropped on deafened ears.
How can we listen with re-turned backs
against the current of lethargy?
Hope against hope is lost
Each day with hesitations on the rise
carbon footprint, blackened earth.
Sun bleached walls leave traced outlines
of shadows sharpened edges cut.
Caustic comments cut deeper still
Alpha male leads from the front.
Shards of momentary madness flicker forth
and cyclic splashes crown the path.
The old have rounded shoulders now.
Contrition is its own reward
Bright colours trumpet times of joy
then fade with lack of sun.
Round holes in squares in rounds again,
in a thousand different ways succinct.
Life’s internal struggle
Pillars brace the frailty felt.
Comments meant to reach on high,
reality is boxed and put away
and bars deny the few a link.
While chained to imperfection
Locked into a fish bowl life,
observations noted down.
Prying out with cushioned force,
left well enough alone, gives all
an elemental peace
The tri-light laws that govern us
reflect a softer seam above.
Mine it well with careful words
lest its gone in emblematic smoke.
A frame on which to hang
Metered moments ticking by, the
click-clip-clock rhythmic beats aloud,
umbrella’d under internal shafts
and netted close, like spiders web
of deceit and incredulity
Pleasing turns of pages beckon.
Strings align and pull together.
Pink overtones lift melodic curves,
all given freely with a sagging love,
a love that knows its bounds
And yet the sadness washes by
while splashed with urban dreadedness.
“Beat the time lordly now boys!”
With processionary pride it takes
a whining, winding path
Baked and desiccated life
awaits the drip, drip, drip effect -
“All hail!” the handbagged letters cry.
“Release our agony!” they plea.
Performance in the key
Spiked enhancement of the truth
impales the lesser class,
table-topped and speared below.
Drawn blood a crimson pool.
Efforts all in vein
Talk of effortless attempts,
waste the best of what is left.
Cost alone prohibits thoughts.
The pressure of old turgid time
rolls on, for all the same
Give a thought as light begins to fade,
a darkness closes fast.
Columns stripe their colours high,
clear indications make the text
an uncomfortable read
Wearily dragged down by banal reports.
Lives drummed into the ground.
Look square, into the oblong light
littered hopes and dreams lay down
plaster-cast profanities
Over the last two weeks I have been working on upwards of thirty new paintings, have completed three poems about my thoughts and experiences, and I have been continuing a series of short stories which I hope to publish sometime in the relatively near future.
Coupled with this I squeezed a morning painting session down by the salt lake with four other artists. I think for me it was important to do this, as I spend so much of my time locked away in my studio. I got such a buzz of having like minded company and for the first time in a long time felt free to paint without restrictions. I completed two paintings during that two hour 'en plein air' session, the first was relatively recognisable if you know the area, while the second was a loose, quite abstract version of the same scene. The lack of restriction for me was liberating and actually fuelled me with more enthusiasm when I got back to the studio. My thanks to Maurice, Ron, John and Mike for the company. We will do it again sometime.
All this done amid the usual daily email queries from galleries, newspapers and the public. To prove I have been busy and not just supping coffee I will let you see one of my latest poems. Your opinions are welcome.
PLASTER-CAST PROFANITIES
Often talked, but last in line,
eaves dropped on deafened ears.
How can we listen with re-turned backs
against the current of lethargy?
Hope against hope is lost
Each day with hesitations on the rise
carbon footprint, blackened earth.
Sun bleached walls leave traced outlines
of shadows sharpened edges cut.
Caustic comments cut deeper still
Alpha male leads from the front.
Shards of momentary madness flicker forth
and cyclic splashes crown the path.
The old have rounded shoulders now.
Contrition is its own reward
Bright colours trumpet times of joy
then fade with lack of sun.
Round holes in squares in rounds again,
in a thousand different ways succinct.
Life’s internal struggle
Pillars brace the frailty felt.
Comments meant to reach on high,
reality is boxed and put away
and bars deny the few a link.
While chained to imperfection
Locked into a fish bowl life,
observations noted down.
Prying out with cushioned force,
left well enough alone, gives all
an elemental peace
The tri-light laws that govern us
reflect a softer seam above.
Mine it well with careful words
lest its gone in emblematic smoke.
A frame on which to hang
Metered moments ticking by, the
click-clip-clock rhythmic beats aloud,
umbrella’d under internal shafts
and netted close, like spiders web
of deceit and incredulity
Pleasing turns of pages beckon.
Strings align and pull together.
Pink overtones lift melodic curves,
all given freely with a sagging love,
a love that knows its bounds
And yet the sadness washes by
while splashed with urban dreadedness.
“Beat the time lordly now boys!”
With processionary pride it takes
a whining, winding path
Baked and desiccated life
awaits the drip, drip, drip effect -
“All hail!” the handbagged letters cry.
“Release our agony!” they plea.
Performance in the key
Spiked enhancement of the truth
impales the lesser class,
table-topped and speared below.
Drawn blood a crimson pool.
Efforts all in vein
Talk of effortless attempts,
waste the best of what is left.
Cost alone prohibits thoughts.
The pressure of old turgid time
rolls on, for all the same
Give a thought as light begins to fade,
a darkness closes fast.
Columns stripe their colours high,
clear indications make the text
an uncomfortable read
Wearily dragged down by banal reports.
Lives drummed into the ground.
Look square, into the oblong light
littered hopes and dreams lay down
plaster-cast profanities
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