Showing posts with label MWP Paintings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MWP Paintings. Show all posts

Monday, January 30, 2012

Nightshade



When morning nightshade beans beckon,
It's time to make a bang-up breakfast, I reckon.
I'll have it with eggs, and or I'll have it with steak,
Or if I can't find bacon, I'll down it with cake.

What is this? . . . . AnswerCoffee

Saturday, January 28, 2012

very small paintings


















Here are two very tiny oil paintings. Both were part of a larger work that I took a razor blade to, and cut out the parts I found interesting. Very little from the larger painting seemed interesting.

I glued these bits to paper.  At the time I couldn't see them for what they were, primitive experiments. I had this mystical fascination for atmosphere, the horizon. I was looking off into the distance, and must have been hearing the call of a watery world. Did I know I would be going to sea when I made these? Did I know that I would lose interest in painting, and become a filmmaker? These paintings seem to have known. The part of filmmaking I liked was editing. Creating meaning, through cuts.



You might wonder why I'm taking the time to post these here. Quite simply because I don't own these anymore. I gave them to my godmother shortly after I made them, and only have these photos. So by putting the images here I'll have them to refer to.

A blog is personal history, out of order.

Some Early Oils


As I'm building this blog, I'm asking myself, 'why'?, and I think the simple answer to that question is 'because I can!'. I have all this work, photographs of my work, pots, paintings, drawings and so forth. They need to be let loose into the world, and I can't imagine a better pond to throw them in than the internet. Google will take better care of them, at least I assume, than any conservator. My children won't have to fight over anything so long its in some kind of order. I'm putting the album in order, labeling pictures that they can't label.

Am I preparing for that day? Of course, all of us are.

These works date from 1974 to 1976. I was living on Park Street in New Haven, CT. The one of the storefront was done looking south, out of my third floor window. It was some kind of food establishment at that time, recently it was a locksmith, but they've since closed.

I had a small french easel. My friend Barney Conrad had one too and we used to take them around spots in New Haven to paint 'au pleine aire'. I hadn't been bit by recent advances in abstraction, and was caught up digesting the vernacular of the Impressionists.

It's all language. Painting, words. You work on, or with the language that you are attracted to, or are still in the process of learning. Birds do it. People do it. Everyone's tweeting these days! :)



Monday, January 23, 2012

The Way In



And indeed today pain was mouthed . . . .
The dance got bitter . . .
And she defeated us both. . . .
But we are like cats. . .
able to nimbly navigate . . .
through the open obsessive work.
Therein lies our way. . .
The way in is the way out.


MWP, date unknown, 5354-154-255


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81


Monday, December 12, 2011

The Door


Reason lights up rafters high,
Instinct sounds the floor,
Poetry's a key that opens wide,
The door to Metaphor.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Every Monster Bird



Whatever ugly monster bird keeps dancing,
Curious passions hard, make rotten liars puny.

Whisper in my fire, please investigate why I see you,
Slither, dirty scab, here's an original wall to
manipulate money through red and violet.
Rascal, have better fantasies, giggle, to satisfy.
Know harmony..

Flashlight cat eyes I understand.
Drink, be cured. Cruise some underlying soul.
Understand, scratch our empty noses.
Sucker, celebrate your dirty vulture breath,
Or puke.

A woman's hormone cramps seem fooled.
Try to favor unknown kindness.
Meet, we'll know your fragile language.

Be the aesthete I'm wanting,
Cat fingers twinkle at me.
Destroy passion, always bring warmth.

Together we reconcile, and steal slippery desire.
But pressure will smile.
Psychology's instrument comes from number.

Who keeps your frivolity down?
Will emotions deal, help vary the experiment?
Wrath as he glitters, makes real love.

Clean witted space, a neighbor's name said,
Toast the righteous slippery encounter.
How a party kicks head and heart,
In your studio incarnate.






with Niki Rubin 6/23/11, 6061-161-262


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81



Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Her Situation



Perform her situation in joyful anguish.
Marvelous beast, better fear your sibling
Time now, talk to me, but with a snake's respect.
He'll have flown, to give our cast, retribution.
He takes my sloth, not to juggle, or feel ample,
A man feasted on deadly stew.

Forbidden wench happens to lie on grace.
Because to brawl, we fight smoke by lust.
Suddenly, faced a break.
Please our pet spider, do not offend us,
Pick an aggressive act, too enormous to enjoy.
Such a homely herculean punk's afraid, behind bars.

Do you hurt?
Would a special rainbow wish be faithful?
Raw slave, ram the verbose pedant,
I must waste the arid sea.

Did the young metal chameleon, ever need less music?
A happy nature calling.
Pathetic ranks are squashed, so think,
Was nature sold?

As the self, I shrink disease.
Deep mildew won't smite truth,
Bubbling through heaps of cheerful acumen,
Her sublime ersatz pleasure befriends, panting, climbs fast.

Observe earth. It had better reach
Drive on an obtuse dysfunctional dish.
Feel slinky, enervate, slather . . .
Never waste in shame,
Demand the jungle.

6/8/11, with 'Cake Knife', 40, 41-1, 41-242


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

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