June Redux 2014 – FIN

In June 2014 this was the final submission of my ‘The 100’ series that I began in 2012 in celebration of my 100th post on WP.

Over a two-year span I posted 100 Text and Art artworks, this creative form being at the heart of my blog.

My intention was to present 100 pieces of text based art from historical and contemporary artists, from my ex students and from my own hand.

With this post it was done

fin_2_3_2

completed, concluded, fulfilled,

finished and finalized.

 

Remember the endings of those romantic,

enigmatic, exotic and erotic

French movies?

~FIN~

fin_2_2

 

Time to put on hats and coats,

shuffle through popcorn detritus and cola cans,

leave the cosy sentiments of make-believe,

the warmth of shared fantasies and holding hands,

the smells of perfume, upholstery and sweat,

and stumble through swinging doors

into the glare and noises of the street,

stunned for a moment, floating between

two worlds,

 uncertain which is real.

 

fin_2

 

art and poem by clinock

June Redux – 2013 – Be Here Now

be-here-now_2

 

“The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.”

from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

 

 

“We’re fascinated by the words–but where we meet is in the silence behind them.”

Ram Dass

 

Be Here Now. 20″ x 16″ (50.8 x 40.64 cm) acrylic ink drawing on paper, by clinock.

Demented Confessions 7 – Winter Bush

Winter Bush

says

I am your winter bush

too cold to light your fire

my branches icicles

my skull a ball of snow

 

says

I am Alpha and Omega

a child ancient as stars

my magic is from flesh

fire and the silver rose

 

says

look deeper than thinking

I am not what I say

I am almost spring

I am an article of faith

 

 

Art and Poem by Clinock.

Winter Bush. 8″ x 8″ (20.32 x 20.32 cm). Mixed media relief sculpture in cradled panel.

May Redux – 2013 – Dreams For Sale

dreams for sale

Walking a city afternoon I made this photo through the window of an antique store.

I continued to gaze, fascinated by my reflection superimposed on the bed. It was as if I was laying down and drifting with the ghosts of all who had ever slept, dreamed, loved, laughed and cried, been born and died there, tangled in baroque light.

I was moved to free us from all this sleeping around.

Above, but out of the frame, was a sign in antiquarian lettering.

It said ‘Dreams For Sale’.

 

ghosts cannot rest

in this dislocated bed

 

perplexed by labyrinths of iron

and the endless touch of the living

 

their spines and cheeks

never crease the haunted sheets and pillows

 

outside looking in I’m inside looking out

whispering to the reflected dead

you are loved and you are loved

and you are free

 

Walk on

Photo and Poem by clinock.

Demented Confessions 5 – The Key

The Key

The Key is offered.

The Angel of Paradox

reveals the riddle.

~~~~~~~

All I can confess

is I cannot find the lock

and so remain blind.

~~~~~~~

The Key is offered,

but I’m too used to being

the beyond belief.

~~~~~~~~

Art and Haiku by clinock.

The Key. 8″ x 8″ (20.32 x 20.32 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

Demented Confessions 4 – The White Stool

White Stool

Spirit bird child,

learning to fly,

will you dance a dance with me

across the sky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The White Stool by Clinock. 8″ x 8″ (20.32 x 20.32 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

Demented Confessions 1 – Invocation

Invocation

Demented – from Old French dementer or late Latin dementare, from demens ‘out of one’s mind’.

Confessions – via Old French from Latin confessio (n-) from confiteri ‘acknowledge’

Invocation

My Renovation Quest was to become out of my mind. Somewhat in the same way one is out of milk or coffee but more to the point outside of the rational and the drunken monkey, like the Dadaist Buddhists were if they ever were.

I do not welcome madness. I did once or twice but there was no pleasure in it.

Dali said: “The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad”.

So I confess and acknowledge what is found. Each work is a confession and a confirmation. I honour each work as an actual act of art made with these hands, eyes, heart and brain.

 It was another hard winter, here in the soft northwest Pacific sense of ‘hard’. Almost endless rain and if not rain then air so loaded with icy moisture one could squeeze it like a sponge and almost get snowflakes. A chilling, foggy dank, cabin fever, mossy, dripping, out of one’s mind Gothic kind of winter as I began these wall boxes. They are a necessary transition from my free standing ‘Renovation Art’ sculptures to that which comes next.

They made me laugh and wonder and ask what, and why.

In the dark hibernation of my winter past, in the name of Renovation, I made my confessions every day and night to all who still lived and listened. Did you hear my sins? Did you enjoy them? Did you hear my invocation? Must there be sacrifice?

Self-indulgent revelations in the fur and fire of the cave.

Invocation. Mixed media relief wall box by clinock. H.8″ (20.32 cm) x W.8″ (20.32 cm) x D.2″ (5.08 cm).