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.

May Redux – 2014 – Hot Tub Dance

hot tub

it was

a torrid tango

a slipping of skin along skin

through shimmering heat

and cold blue air

 

it was

a surging blood

fandango

a simmering amniotic

rendezvous

 

it was

a sizzling cauldron

of salty sensuality

a full moon

roiling ocean rumba

 

it was all

raw lips and basted thighs

tangled flesh sliding together

falling limbs losing ground

and coming apart

 

it was hide and seek

and blind man’s bluff

and catch me if you can

with a stiff oar in a feral sea

dipping and thrusting

through oscillating fluids

floating, flooding, rising,

bodies liquefying

spurting like whales

 

it was lines forgotten

identities melting

transfigured bodies

lost in translation

and the wavering light

 

it was faces transmogrified

in shifting perspectives of steam

 

nothing was ever what it seemed

when we danced

the hot tub

dance

 

Mixed media drawing and poem by Clinock

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.

May the Fourth Be With You

may-the-fourth

Looking,

but not seeing

this leaping spring,

you are observed

in your surreal museum

by the world.

 

Incongruous anachronism,

guardian, warrior,

frozen in time,

stiffly stuffed

with unquestioning allegiance

to sunken empires.

 

Your Freudian

hat and gun stand to,

but not with,

attention,

while across the street

cherry blossoms bloom

and all the human tribes

sing for peace.

 

Hero on guard

for the forgotten,

May The Fourth Be With You.

 

 

Poem and photo by clinock. (I’m sorry, every year I can’t resist).

With thanks to unknown Vancouver street artist and taggers

April Redux – 2013 – fragmented/enchanted

fragmented-enchanted

Even as the center holds,

various preconceptions

of mirrored identity,

(sensible face,

pedestrian limbs,

imagined organs),

fragment and

peel away,

shedding more than was known.

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

Enchanted by fragmentation

I’m reluctant to leave

this sweet and bitter place

where honeyed magics

wing through space,

pollinating thought

and flesh, and dreams.

Waiting becomes me.

I paint the walls with lightning.

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

Fragmented by enchantment,

a cellular accommodation

reforms my reformation

in a dance of Buddha love,

an attitude of slow turning

across the wavering tiles,

where I shape and shape again

the slow dissolve

of the waiting room I was.

 

 

photo collage and poem by clinock