“In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the nameless makes
A name for one like me.
I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door
Then love itself
Love itself was gone.”
Words by Leonard Cohen.
First three photos by clinock.
Final photo thanks Google Images.
This painting is a meditation; a contemplation, on the child, youth and young man in me.
This is an icon of innocence; a tete-a-tete with the spirit of longing, aging and the illusion of time; an understanding that he is still part of me, always was and always will be, and always still needing my love and recognition that makes him real and makes me whole.
This image is also a tender letting go of all that I have been at every age so none may become an obsession.
I embrace and release every moment of my life, like breathing…
Past Perfect. 18×14. Acrylic on paper on panel. By clinock.
*(see fāz/ Ada and Anna for back story)*
“In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the nameless makes
A name for one like me.
I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door
Then love itself
Love itself was gone.”
song by Leonard Cohen
photo by clinock
The golden child is in my heart today, touching me beyond my understanding. It is this holy seed of touch that moves my heart to sing. The perception has become the meditation; the unseen interplay of space and form; the burning line of fusion, where names dissolve and definitions are consumed by fire. This womb of immaculate co-existence magics all. Being and non-being dance the shadow play of life as planets echo themselves through the still lakes of night. All converges at the inner point of silence, the luminous dream of creation fills the world and everything that has ever come to be is reaffirmed by this renaissance of resplendent light.
(Photo and poem by Clinock). Re-Post from 2011
The golden child is in my heart today, touching me beyond my understanding. It is this holy seed of touch that moves my heart to sing. The perception has become the meditation; the unseen interplay of space and form; the burning line of fusion, where names dissolve and definitions are consumed by fire and light. This womb of immaculate co-existence magics all. Being and non-being dance the shadow play of life as planets echo themselves through the still lakes of night. All converges at the inner point of silence; the sacred edge of creation fills the world and everything that has ever come to be is reaffirmed by fire and light.
(Photo and poem by Clinock).
Day 13. medium – collage & pen.
Art is a meditation on mystery.
(thanks Chrissy)
art rat cafe 