August Redux 2013 – a beginning

time-may-not-be-alltime-may-not-be-all

 

“What we call the beginning is often the end.

 And to make an end is to make a beginning.

 The end is where we start from.”

T.S. Eliot.

 

photo poem by clinock

July Redux Anniversary Issue

Truckin

Today, July 6, 2017, is my 6th year anniversary on WordPress. To celebrate I am revisiting my 1 year anniversary post. Here it is:

2011 / 2012. One Year, during which I have connected through the blogosphere with so many wonderful, creative people. I have been inspired, entertained, informed, educated, enlightened and sometimes moved to tears.

I began Art Rat Café as an assignment for an art course, never thinking that I would continue past the first few posts. Now I’m addicted and look forward to more of our amazing communications through the aether

I am so curious about you all and would love to be able to magically bring you together for a blogger’s party in my beautiful city – to look in your eyes and touch your hands and feed you Italian wine and Vancouver salmon.

Blogging is so frustratingly cerebral and although I love it for what it is my approach to life is ever a sensual one.

Self Portrait with the Other

As I live my days and make my art a special part of my thoughts is always active creating my next post, wanting it to be meaningful, magical and mysterious for you and for me. This process is as much a creative act as making a painting, writing a poem or dancing.

Back ‘In the Day’ you would all have been my ‘pen-pals’, (anyone remember ‘pen-pals’?).

The nature of Time is definitely strange and unpredictable – the Trickster in our lives – the accordion playing at our table in a Parisian café, serenading our hearts with music so bitter sweet.

After all is said and done

It’s just a rainbow ‘round the sun,

Another ring toss ’round a star,

A bear stuck in a honey jar,

An ancient number scratched in rock,

A ticking tap, a dripping clock.

Years pass like apes in papered parlors,

Time is their hunger

And we’re all bananas.

 

I love you all and send deepest thanks for your comments, likes and support of Art Rat Café. My connection to you means so much to me.

Here’s to you, dear friends, and to another year of bountiful blogging.

Peace and Love… Keep on Truckin’

Credits:

‘Keep On Truckin’ image thanks to Robert Crumb.

Painting and poem by clinock.

Painting: Self Portrait with the Other. 30″ x 20″ (76.2 cm x 50.8 cm) Acrylic on canvas.

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

This Moment Now, Not Redux, P.S.

This intensely powerful July full moon woven into this rare, northwest coast summer heat-wave, is…phenomenal. Summer was late arriving in Vancouver, BC. this year and we needed, so desperately, the sun and its blessings. I drink it in. charging.

Full city, full moon, full light

You could keep a whole city alight in the energy I have tonight.

I am summer heat and am expanded and ignited by it – Fire – Leo – In – My – Element. 

This music was not in my one year post but I just had to put it here…with these words…

“And that full bellied moon, she’s a-shinin’ on me.

Yeah she pulls on this heart like she pulls on the sea”

summer moon 1

 

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 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.

 

October’s face.

October's faceOctober’s face

torn by wet winds

erodes and decays,

entering a deep

and melancholic

sleep.

 

It’s a worn and aging mask

painted with autumn

landscapes,

dreaming of sunflowers

broken by storms,

trees ripped into

spinning kaleidoscopes

of red and gold confetti,

and

tire marks

in the snow.

 

October’s face,

up against the wall of time

disintegrates,

fragments,

descends with the leaves

towards darker days.

 

Its beauty is short

but the fall

is long.

 

poem and photo by clinock (edited redux).

photo: found wall art, Vancouver. Thanks and Credit to unknown artist.

The 100 # 99 – going

going

This is the original image of #1 of ‘The 100series. Sprayed onto a particularly uninspiring example of city architecture in East Vancouver this single word “going” attracted me because of its carefully inscribed Grade 6 style of writing, so different from most urban wall graffiti. Its simple one word power of mystery, poetic evocation and pathos enchanted me.

I considered the obvious, that this was the beginning so it should also be the end. However, I am placing it at #99,  just before the cycle finishes, because I need to contradict the obvious.

going-gone2_2_2

I have made some changes to the image and use it here as the penultimate #99. I cropped and added text to the photo creating a poem of sorts, or perhaps more realistically, a primitive chant, of leaving, of departure…The illuminated ‘One’ was unintentional but when it happened it gave me pause…despite our going and separation we are still one, always one, here together…

going gone

going gone

going

going going

gone

going gone

gone going

gone going

gone

going going

gone.

the song of the sailor raising the sails,

the drums of the warriors leaving forever,

the pounding heart of the  refugee,

the hurt voice of lovers

walking away,

the boots of the restless

embracing the highway,

the cry of the imprisoned

as iron doors crash close,

the breath of the dying

on their final beds of light,

time, seasons, love,

friendships,

life.

Photo and poem by clinock.

Credit and thanks to the unknown street writer.

Time

cap dam 1_2

Time will not be tamed

by tidy boxes

on calendars and screens,

Roman numerals on wrists

or New Year countdowns.

 

Time drowns us

like a broken dam,

steals our breath

like a full moon ocean

in a raging storm.

 

Time is a tsunami,

burial at sea,

waters of the womb,

Noah’s flood.

a dripping tap.

 

Time is a rushing river

in which we are reflected

briefly, like a star,

a flight of geese,

a falling leaf.

 

Photo and poem by clinock.

Photo: Cleveland Dam, North Vancouver.