I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page. But it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.
A Personal Cinema
They watch the silent film,
On a large, broken mirror.
A complex mosaic of images.
His family documentary?
People glued to fish.
Romance, marriage, and cynicism.
A boxing match.
The film answers a question.
The audience responds with painful emotion.
Jumping off of rooftops.
My face, facing down.
The moment becomes a dream.
Expectations exceeded.
A Marooned State of Orchestration
We are versed in the complexities of the mind.
A single image can recreate reality?
It can.
What lies beyond the mummified image?
Something so unusual and provocative,
We are obliged to marvel.
I no longer bother to imagine.
I am fine knowing,
I will never really understand.
He creates without any outside assistance.
A somewhat schizophrenic practice.
Painter, to camera man, to science experiment.
He should never have gotten involved.
Bringing the dead back to life.
Encapsulated In No-Mans-Land
The performance.
A snake eating it's tail.
Is anything more baffling?
A ritualistic task.
Constructed order within.
Very controlled.
Painting geometry?
Clues of actuality seem to exist.
Evoking sensations,
In the end, unobtainable.
The myth composed.
At the edge of disbelief.
Made by a jester.
No, it doesn't get any better.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment