Large Amounts of Natural Suspicion, Under the Raspberry Tree - November 12, 2009

Make us feel critical of the mind.
Repeat the jargon next to the hypothetical elevator.

Divided between two in all directions.

Uniformity through six, a natural conclusion.

Looking to escape the crowd.

To see concentrically outward.

A boundary observed from space.

Perceived ringing pushed beyond the horizon.

This photograph disappeared from New York.
A small fruit farm, in black and white.

A new image developed.
Spreading slowly away from the dying leaves.
Run past the trees,
And live to see the second world.

A climatic zone breeding resilient plants.
With a dozen before ten,
A second experiment grew large and small.

Tinkering within hidden marshlands.
Deep purple and golden reds.
Enormous red fruit thrived in bushels.

A bottle of winter left for four years.
A cold tonic invented to cure.
Only raspberries grow in the swamp,
And tea leaves change the weather.

The system could be accessed.
An entry point behind the phenomenon.
They knew it and didn't know.

Background: 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.

The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.

"Large Amounts of Natural Suspicion, Under the Raspberry Tree" was created from the following Brooklyn Rail articles.

The Brooklyn Rail - November 2008 pg. 92

From "Under Every Spreading Tree" by Carl Peterson

"The Raspberry Prince"

"The New Suburbia"

"The Strategic Value of Holcombe High"

Familiar Sketches In Chronological Order - 10/18/2009

Give us the world as it is.
Leave us with a story of everyday life.

Copy the original quote, or write another?
Mirrors cut from mirrors.
A single paragraph fragmented together.
Equally, you might say.

Word for word.
Line for line.
The versions were identical.
Mirrors never escape from the shadows of originality.

I wish for a bit more.
A mind of fire, living in tribal myths.
The raw power of a delirious moment.
Primal, exquisite.
Free from judgement, restriction, and reflection.


Background: 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.

The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.

"Familiar Sketches In Chronological Order" was created from the following Brooklyn Rail Articles.
"The East, The West, and Sex: A History of Erotic Encounters" by Kaitlin Bell - July/August 2009, pg.21
"Reflections by Jonathan Blitzer" - July/August 2009, pg.21

Painted Words From The Eye of Another Era - 8/30/2009

From black to white,
But also white to black.
Punctuated forms in ambiguity.
The idea of drawings,
Made of charcoal blacks from the imagined world.

It felt good to be outside.
A humble emancipation from imagination.

Follow the reflections of a world no longer real.
Completely empty for a time.
Listening to daily life at certain angles.

Momentary gestures disrupt convention.
Experimental sounds play an upside down keyboard.
An acoustic minimalist loudly became a distraction.
Atonal ecstasy improvised slowly.

Anxiety about everything expresses a yearning to preserve.
Day to day thoughts haunted by disorderly feelings.
Machines create them.
There is so much to tell.

With a string dangling a watch,
Thought may be cynical.
Pleasure exposes our personality.
Moving to a point in desperation.
It was death that led to departure.

A collage of images,
Printed on brown paper bags.
Replicated, and laid on a bed.
Nude women with a banana.
Printed images to synthesize sex.

A villainous white man,
Painted expressionistic cobras by a giant tree.
Step away from unobtrusive color.
Things in the world exude a quite shift in creativity.

One metaphor inside another, infinitely small.
Paint before us.
The secrets obscured in meaning.

Two are made of one.
One can be seen, but three transform.
Tradition forces the present.

I remember seeing eccentric objects.
Lonely, empty.
The sound of crickets.

Petals on a blossom predict love.
To be nothing remains the final act of reason.

Rituals of Probability In A World Without Desire

The Important Things I Like Happen To Be Big
2009 - 11"x12", Mixed media on wood.
www.ErikVP.com



The poem titled "Rituals of Probability In A World Without Desire" lives within the newspaper collage of this painting.



Rituals of Probability In A World Without Desire
A yellow vortex of exploding bubbles.
The theme untitled.
Potential electricity is so often the case.

One outstretched arm.
I don't understand it.
Is nil French for zero, or nothing?

Every evening, in the morning.
Night after night,
Recalling someone red.

I know you from somewhere.
Look at my watch.
Is this you?
I imagined who I recognized.

Found with a few trees.
Cold water.
A metaphor, or fiction?

It's a composition in need of a story.
Prolific bunnies that never seem to connect.

Imagining a message on all sides.
It would have to be a message.
Incomprehensible, and therefor indispensable.

An original dream.
To be hypnotic, and express a desire.
Take me there, to find death.

The idea of abstract surrealism.
Emotion beyond the Freudian art.
Paint the potential to perceive.

Concealed in what was innocent.
Performing nude,
In beautiful, expensive, paste-on glitter.

Give to the gladiators everywhere.
There were seven.

Sense of Guilt Fantasies From the Early 60's Joined With Charisma

Bizarrely beautiful,
Completely absurd,
And subtly off-kilter.
Glue explains the lack of conjunction,
With impermanence.

A fascination gone too far,
In this pure realism,
Whose primary mode is X and Q.

A dozen readers of nothing.
Can this book develop misunderstanding?
A consciousness incomplete.
The other, we had to innovate.

The rule of thought was fascinating, and birds sang.
This was original.
Mistakes delineate an uncertain entity.
Survive the stories we tell through telling.
Stories about perceptive cats,
An old woman who sits.
Reality is made of reality.

Echoes change in mood,
While becoming unstable.
The ever increasing complexity of history,
Mirrors the lifetime of three.
From a leader among the defeated.
The dream of revolution.

A picture raises two questions.
Prejudice or intellectual arrogance?

Here is a way.
A precautionary approach to nature.
If you practice nature.
The scientific argument changes.
Life with nature, arranged in sections.
I was delighted.

Redefined or difficult to prove,
The third mind glaring.

Laid to rest.
Mixed feelings now transformed.
Examination of reason while driving.
A double reward.

Translucent brush strokes.
My mind living elsewhere,
From thought to thought.
Tokyo, Paris, New York.
The sound of two hands between east and west.

Days, seconds, a staccato.
Because I am normal.
Ordinary life.
A reminder of the real.

An Emotional Composition Painted In A Neutral Color

Digital is producing a kind of human capacity.
So many people are forecasting death.
But the physical medium is alive and well.
The concept of death created.
She chose to create.

Certain feelings consciously placed on the table,
Consciously use meaning.
If we think about everything else,
And everything through the beginning,
I often think about it equally.

I don't want to look.
You have that spot.
Say something important.
Then be the still life,
And go.

Try to draw composed patterns.
It's dumb, semantically,
But I like the idea of things.
They have meanings to other meanings.
To other people.

I had some used bricks.
Bricks come to mean ruin, in some way.
Who died?

Theatrical paintings are always unspokenly theatrical.
There is that element.
Left un-thought-about,
They show patterns,
With yellow paint.
I don't really have a pattern.

Can you talk about color?
I'm obviously thinking,
And I don't know what I mean by that.
I had color.

There was a discussion recorded.
Something about post-modernist instability.
I really wish people understood that.
Yes.
That would be something.

Random, Abstract Poetry - 4/15/09

Absurdity In Three Pieces
It is somewhat unclear,
How well it resonated.
A set of twins,
With almost no trace of human figure.

Symbols of female fertility,
Around the wall.
A greater emphasis on circumstantial context.
Her ideas are related.
Each is practical or primary.

Individual context of history.
Open to interact.
The dot screen shift to yellow,
Could be read.

Language and meaning.
Delusion and fortune,
Available to the viewer.

Something relevant, disjointed, or arbitrary.
Fragmented about a moot point.
Both have symbols.
The meaning, multiple and distinct.

The seamless has rendered,
To the ongoing evolution.

Daydream about how.
I recalled.
Interrogated about culture.
I imagined.

Photographic imagery.
The viability of ambiguities become visible.



Horizontal Bands Between Solidarity and Evanescence
Make sense for a reason,
And grasp the tangible.

The male nude, stiffly drawn.
Never painted a nude.
He was a painter, self-taught.

The concept of boxed-in feelings.
The geometry of urban living,
Will fill those spaces.

A small gesture reveals sensibility,
And unusual viewpoints.

Occasionally, snail-like accumulations,
Of color next to color,
Form shadow and space.

Things seem to be rigorous.
Falling somewhere between,
Predictable and unexplained.

Repeat things familiar.
These arrangements yet absurd.
Fish don't have access to the obscure.

Energy, an oasis of warmth.
The glow of inspired optimism.
Not that everything will.

A field of yellow.
The chaos understood.
This curious blend of words.


A False Metaphor, Mapped From Linguistic Meaning
Purposeful experiments in urban psychotherapy.
To change negative thought patterns,
The therapy is uniquely focused.

Distressing social structures,
Between forces of nature.
One problem and one location.
Futuristic speculation dismissed as fantasies.

Piece together geraniums.
The swan song of January.

A can of soup?
There's a fly in my soup.
Be discerned by the kitchen utensils.
Complex symbols of meaning.

Find a way.
More elliptical.
We have passed a time,
For delirious visionaries.
Imagine that.

Exotic coconuts,
Have a ritual we recognize.
An unlikely pair who resonate.
One was sophisticated,
The other reclusive.