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.

Lilac Moon

dsc05560

Full moon tonight.

Her name is Lilac Moon,

Womb of Spring,

Hidden by Clouds.

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

The lilacs are out in Vancouver.

Spring always smells like you,

but it never lasts.

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

The magnolias bloomed

and were gone

in three days

this year.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flowers of May

come and go.

~~~~~~~~~

The lilacs may last

a little longer.

~~~~~~~~~

Because it brings me back you…

art and poem by clinock

Painting: 20″ x 16″ (50.8 x 40.64 cm). Acrylic on paper.

 

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 3 – The Red Stool

The Red Stool

Lonely child you were,

is it too late to be your friend?

Selfish child you were,

always wanting what you could not have,

red ball, red stool.

I give them to you today.

 

Pretty child you were,

transformed into an old man now.

Is it too late to fold you into me

and love you for who we are

and who we were

and who we will be?

 

I confess I abandoned you,

I was out of my mind and

you were lost in the mazes of my heart.

I confess I believed

I could walk the years

without you.

 

Art and poem by clinock.

The Red Stool. 10″ x 8″ (25.4 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).