Saturday, February 19, 2011




The Poetry of Art

What is a poem? The use of words to covey meaning through abstract composition that allows the arbitrariness of content to flow freeing the word from conventional context through creative construction to convey a language of thought transcending the confines of linguistics. What is visual poetry? It is art that uses the visual to convey meaning through abstract composition that allows the arbitrariness of content to flow freeing the image from conventional context through creative construction to convey an aesthetic of thought transcending the confines of logical aesthetics. Such is the visual poetry of artists Susan Beck, Bonnie Sucec and Ryan K. Peterson to be shown beginning March 11th at the Finch Lane Gallery.

“Our route thus compass’d we, a segment widely stretch’d
Between the dry embankment, and the core
Of the loath’d pool, turning meanwhile our eyes
Downward on those who gulp’d its muddy lees…” Canto VII, 129-133
Those “who gulp’d its muddy lees” is a hell divined by Dante in the “Divine Comedy” to which those who transgressed the sin of anger are condemned made lucid to the reader. Artist Susan Beck’s composition “Distance Looks Our Way” might be said to be painted as Dante wrote, with an air of gravity and sublimity that can be greater appreciated with a poetic sensitivity. In this expressive lyrical ambiance we feel the universal awe of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and simultaneously recognize the anxiety of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” These seemingly contradictory states of being find themselves well placed in this visual poem drawing the mind and the eye from one direction to the next grappling for reason. But there is none. The eye might think it “gets it” but the mind realizes that it doesn’t and gives in to the irrationality. Here is a subject sublimated to substance as the visual is appreciated poetically.
As the chorus of angels wrestle Mephistopheles to redeem Faust at last they beckon:
On to the light,
Loving flames, stream,
May truth redeem
Self-damned from blight,
That, gladly weaned
From evil and cleaned,
In the All-Unity
Blessed they be.” 11801-11808
The idea that the spirit can be rescued even from the most damning reality, even that of Faust in Goethe’s masterpiece, is a theme common to poetry and art and Beck reflects on such themes in her emotive visual poem “Let Go, Damn It.” Once more we find more substance than subject with a Goya-like darkness contrasted with the universal messages of salvation in many paintings of William Blake. The message is fundamentally optimistic, one of humanism and the capability of humankind. Here is adversity but ultimately one finds him or herself believing in the faceless but not helpless creature who clings to a thread of hope, her only salvation. Beck is consistent with imagery that cannot be read with logic but is allowed to manifest through sensory intuition: a poetic sensibility.
The visual poetry of Bonnie Sucec each, she said, “develops on its own- starting with a fragment- the painting unwinds with twists and turns and seldom a solution.” These visual poems are lush and alive and enrich the viewer who may explore the pastiche of style and motif with a “joie de vivre” temperament. Sucec’s “The Sun and the Moon” is itself a poem as lyrical as a sonnet.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath too short a date.” XVIII, 1-4
Sucec’s liberated aesthetic is delightful and compels sensations such as in this sonnet by William Shakespeare. This work can be interpreted visually with the sense of mystery of Marc Chagall with his same enjoyable color cacophonies which enhance the whimsical iconography. These prints have many tales to tell that can be enjoyed by releasing sensory perception and not penetrative scrutinizing.
In the capricious poem “A Tout Épreuve” by Surrealist poet Paul Elouard, translated loosely as “Through all of the Trials,” he writes “A la suite des images, Le masse de la lumiére roule vers d’autre rêves” or “After the visual experience, the body of light follows on to other dreams.” The Surrealists made ample use of the irrational and the sense of displacement found in Elouard’s poem to expound on greater depths of consciousness. In like manner Sucec’s “Venus in a Half Shell” incites the imagination to meander through the inviting imagery such as one would the oeuvre of Surrealist painter Max Ernst whose similar “narratives” lack a beginning, have no middle and will reach no end. Only the sensual experience of this visual poem can give it its raison de être. These visual poems encourage meaning by avoiding rational interpretation and submitting to depths of the conscious.
Ryan K. Peterson’s works might be described as “grotesque”… “I believe in a collective consciousness so I would like to think others might relate to seeing childhood monsters, stalking predators, metaphorical giants and the curious, not-so-subjective reality behind our eyes,” he said. His visual poetry invites thoughts of horror in the face of the uncanny as what we see might seem tied to somewhere in the psyche that we find uncomfortable. “It’s Looking for Me” is a visual poem that might resonate with the subject of memory and temporality, but nervously so. These memories may seem in retrospect not fond and the viewer must, as must all, reconcile their peace with their own as Peterson may be doing.
“So I loved a dream?
My doubt, a mass of ancient night, concludes
In many a subtle branch, which, since the real woods
Remain, proves, alas, what I offered to myself
As triumph was the ideal lack of roses.
Let’s think it over…” Stéphane Mallarmé
Ultimately we cannot escape our own reality.
Peterson’s most uncomfortable visual poems are his sculptures “Brother’s Bighead” which, he said, “are dreams, phobias and personal imagery manifested in sculpture.” “White Big Head” is sculpted poetry that is ironic and ugly and makes no sense outside of a poetic engagement with it.
“Stupidity, delusion, selfishness and lust
Torment our bodies and possess our minds,
And we sustain our affable remorse
The way a beggar nourishes his lice,”
Realist poet Charles Baudelaire here offers warning to the reader who begins to explore the daunting channels of thought to be found in his collection “Les Fleures du Mal.” Baudelaire was a poet of realism at odds with Parisian Modernity. His poems are not dark fantasies but truth of reality as he saw it. “White Big Head” is absurd like the work of sculptor Louise Bourgeois and in this absurdity can be found reality, traces of the real confronting us and our own reality with the crafty gaze of “White Big Head.” This is the same gaze that met the men of Paris who entered the Salon of 1865 to Eduard Manet’s painted courtesan, “Olympia,” making them embarrassingly self-conscious of their own debauchery.
Art considered historically has most frequently required a literal interpretation and has had specific aims and purposes. However there is a wealth of art, such as that of Beck, Sucec and Peterson, that will lose the recognition of its intrinsic value and the meaningful experience offered to the viewer when attempted to be understood with any degree of the absolute. Beck’s visual poems transcend being, Sucec’s explores consciousness while Peterson’s challenges reality in ways that transcend, explore, and challenge standardized notions of aesthetics.
“Another hardened expanse, once marked with occasional cairns
Spreads out ahead--mountainless.
The minutia of divots and pimples’
Of furrows and flakes, lead the way,” writes featured artist Susan Beck.

Saturday, April 10, 2010




Condemned to be Free

Like the character played by Liv Ullmann in Igmar Bergman’s 1966 classic film Persona, one perceives in her character a desire to escape from the world when the one thing longed to be escaped is the self. Such is instigated by the fear of exposure for heinous crimes which one cannot categorically identify, at times the desire to envelop one’s self in a shroud, a hiding place created by a state of irrational unease through a self consciousness making one wish that the inescapable was avoidable. With every thought the anguish of paranoia may release the sensitive self to lower depths according to one’s own self repulsion. And in these times, when one feels acute anxiety and inner anxiety of fear, fearing to fall farther, are these depths not only compounded and made more insufferable by an acute sense of insurmountable isolation?
Like the self fabricated cocoon which Ullmann’s entire performance is constructed upon, her fictive and defensive being, woven through time and self-conflict, so carefully articulated that this Persona has judged, by her own anxiety, herself as guilty. Ullman’s character is hopeless to hope for the impossible: to speak and not be heard, to move and not be seen, to cry and be understood, to think and not betray the self so fearful to one’s own inner being. Ullmann’s character in the film exists in a self implemented silence and reclusiveness.
However resolutely, this existential state is universal, by varying degrees, one whose rules all must abide by: that of the human intercourse. In the extreme, like Ullmann’s character, one might be bound in a state of desperation, of self-loathing, of self-prescribed solitude however unjustified, with an irrational fear of exposure to the world.
One may leave neither house nor home- nowhere is one immune to the existential predicament. The terror of guilt, the feeling of being caught in a situation although innocent of any categorical fault, one finds one’s moments charged with thoughts of unquenchable damnation, a predestined hell; the fear to betray oneself through gesture, word and being, only to wish to breath, to encounter the earth one so longs to inhabit and propagate, a life so longed to be lived. All are prisoners, captive in a web of existential self consciousness.
One might try and do what one will but one cannot shed the shell, the body, the I who longs to be but cannot, the I who can share a harmonious existence with those that the I loves, adores but cannot build a bridge to. The I fears, the I loves but cannot fulfill that potential without fear of exposure, existing in a state of frenzied anxiety, in the Heideggerian notion of angst; this most “primordial fear,” this “turning away and falling prey…making fear possible.” This is a turning away from the self finding this self fearful. From what is it that the persona is afraid of? Resolutely it is not solely the subjective self and not solely the Heideggerian “they” that frightens one. It is the nature of ones conscious self confronted with the “other” that is the foundation of anxiety.
Ullmann portrays bold personality traits and is not someone one might suspect of falling prey, of succumbing to a self-inflicted torture. But none, even the most strongly willed, such as Ullman, in angst, avoids the impulse to discover an exile where she seeks the authentic self through self realization- the ultimate goal, in a tender scenario of finding the true self one believes to exist yet cannot find. Ullman’s contrived exile from the world, the universe she has created from silence, avoids everyday life that all must participate in, in order to exist phenomenologically. She neither speaks nor interacts with others other than the interlocutor whom in the film is the mouthpiece of the taciturn Ullman- she has, for herself created her own chamber of horrors- self inflicted in the conflict of phenomenological being.
According to Hideggerian theory of an unknown “they,” that which is beyond the “self,” who is Ullmann’s they, the cause of her angst? She is hiding herself from the possibility of being perceived by beings encountered in the surrounding world, an unshakable paradox. Apparently she is experiencing the angst of what is “the perception of what is objectively present tak[ing] place,” states Heidegger. The objectivity at hand is a very equivocal one for the “self,” and there is no absolute. One might register in Ullman’s character a hateful, irrational and misanthropic persona, one which has earned her exile. Yet her irrational being is a merely a phantom of her true self in a state of conflict. This is none other than, according to Heidegger a self “in search for one of the most far-reaching and most primordial possibilities of disclosure which lie in Da-sein;” the self in its state of being.
Much conflict within the existential self and the experience which is inescapable, of “being,” of Da-sein, resides with the indeterminate angst of which is the everyday, a common and universal reality. A categorical system, to model the self amongst the “they” is not possible, there are no set parameters of the phenomenological. One discovers or finds the self within the panorama of the “they”, through being, often creating the phenomenon of anxiety due to the overwhelming phenomenological possibilities- intercourse with the “they”.
Persona concludes with no existential definite besides that of “care”, the action of being; Heidegger and the state of phenomenology, identifiable yet indeterminate in an equivocal structure resulting in the chaos of angst.
According to the philosophy that Sartre pioneered, existential beings are slaves to one’s own self consciousness. In Heideggerian theory of consciousness one is a slave to one’s own self awareness as guilt, and driven by it. Guilty or not, human consciousness, according to Sartre was an awareness of a transcendental self, an object distant to the “other,” beholden to the same anxiety as Liv Ullman’s character. She battled, with no foundation or true a priori conceptions in the Kantian sense- an angst ridden, anxious, self conscious perceived by her fear of the “other.”
To elucidate this conjecture, one might begin with an explanation by Heidegger on what exactly is Da-sein and the “they” or Sartre’s “other.” For Heidegger, Da-sein, is his primary state of “being” or departure into the realms of the phenomenological signified as “being-there,” or being “objectively present.” His “they” resounded with Sartre’s “other” as “being with the world” contingent with “being a self.” What Bergman alluded to through Ullman’s “persona” was the state of anxiety of experience, the state of the self in conflict with the “other.” Yet this reflective consciousness is a mere state of human existence, according to Sartre, which no adroit being can avoid, and no “null ground of a nullity,” according to Heidegger, can appease.
Angst forms an integral aspect of Heidegger’s Being and Time, a trajectory based upon “the fundamental attunement of angst as an eminent disclosedness of Da-sein;” an attunement of the “self” and the dynamic in the face of the “other.” This dynamic leads to the fundamental quality definitive of all action: “care.” According to Heidegger, the phenomenon of “care” is pervasive in its universality as an extension of the “self” to the “they,” and its motivating source is the core of human experience.
This core of human experience may be made cogent aesthetically by a comparison to the multi-faceted sculpture of Alberto Giacometti, whose relationship to Jean-Paul Sartre is highly reputed. Giacometti’s homogenous figures all bear a similar aesthetic and signification, not merely Minimalist modernity but existentialist philosophy; its fundamental form relative to existentialism is profound, also seen in his painting and drawing.
Giacometti’s figures are delicate, are not merely a study of form but a study of humanity whose being is what is present yet whose essence is malleable. These waif-like, apparently brittle sculptures are solid brass, with an unbreakable core whose exterior or “persona” is rendered loosely, absent. They personify this ideology in their figural construction and epistemology.
According to the all seeing eye of Sartre, the anxiety or self consciousness is the human predicament. In the prodigious oeuvre of Giacometti, figures of all sizes, like the diversity of the body, delicately poised in an existential conflict of mind, body and soul-spirit, the Da-sein in the face of the existential experience. This dynamic might be viewed as a condition which all “being” souls, through an infinite intercourse of relationships- through the mind’s eye and through the intuitive eye plays out the human condition. Like the durable yet delicate sculptures by the artist, the result is beautifully and eloquently phrased in bronze. While the essence follows existence, the external is indeterminate leaving the core which these sculptures signify, standing erect in an infinite strength.
Rothko plays out the existential model in his abstract expressionist canvases. As Sartre professes, the conscious is a consciousness of itself as it is a transcendental state of awareness. The experience of witnessing a Rothko, the metaphysics of the personal relationship which each viewer finds between the self and the canvas may be likened to a great reflecting pool. The metaphysical quality in his work allows the act of looking to be returned. This is a spiritual synthesis, an exploration of the inner self, a phenomenon not caused by insecurity or fear, anxiety or angst, but a channel to the soul opened by meditation on Rothko’s work and one is free to explore and revisit the essence of the self which many are blinded to.
Camus’ metaphor of the Myth of Sisyphus extemporaneously discloses, like a twentieth century Erasmus, the folly of humanity and symbolizes the inauthentic, ironical “absurd” of the human predicament. To many, inauthentic being cannot be avoided, the reverse to Ullman’s tragic authentic being. Too often the case with the inauthentic being of the “they” is an anticipated fear of self conscious recognition and possibility of conflict with the “self.”. As the rock of Sisyphus will never find its resting place, so does denying reality leave one in a state of unrest, of anxiety and the “absurd” of the “they.”
Camus draws a striking connection with Dostoevsy whereby the “absurd” might be assuaged. In Dostoevsky’s oeuvre, particularly the Brothers Karamazov, a light from the darkness and “absurdity” that envelops the world Dostoevsky creates, so pervasive, is actually attainable. As Camus’ own theory of ideology and fatality is introduced in his metaphor of the absurd in the Myth of Sisyphus, he also sees redemption and a justification in Dostoevsky’s protagonists. Camus presents a vantage point whereby authenticity might transgress the absurd, might see beyond the fates and delve into the “hero’s” consciousness. Such is the case in Dostoevsky’s psychological journeys, a subjective perspective which leads the reader haphazardly through the realms of dementia yet one may find it poetic, even sublime.
The Myth of Sisyphus is a tragic humanist metaphor of the absurd, however in the work of Dostoevsky and the frantic, unpredictable and devastating events which encompass the lives of those who exist in large measure “on the fringe,” here the absurd often manifests itself as authentic as ultimately, the hero is redeemed, such as in the final two pages of Crime and Punishment, as Raskolnikov dedicates his soul to God.
What is the authentic being of a Dostoevskian character who often finds reconciliation? There is an exceptional quality in the author to portray a complex and multi-dimensional nature. In the majority of the literature, angst is fundamental to the tone in the existential conflict in a mesh of being. The protagonist and the antagonist are often uncannily similar and the author unravels their intertwined natures throughout the novel revealing the authenticity in the struggle of both.
Like Bergman, Dostoyevsky’s work is highly psychological and probes the vicissitudes of existentialism through the maze which is a mis-en-scene for the analytical approach to decipher the character’s nature which one finds progressively revealed as one follows them through the Dostoevskian labyrinth. This ensemble of human relations, even to the most threadbare, like a Giacometti, results in the existential battle of myth and reality.
Thus, how does the innocent discover his or herself while experiencing a state of irrational fear and self imposed exile- to hide from the phenomenon of the “they” without a verifiable state of guilt” such as Dostoevsky’s Alyosha. Kant might answer with his theory of the transcendental nature of mind over matter. In pursuit of reason, one must rely on one’s own a priori conceptions of the mind. Yet without logical and empirical grounds for thought, reason becomes unfounded.
Experience is frequently based on the transcendental thought with no objective base. Thus the mind is an organ allowing complete liberty to comprehend, however too often, as Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason suggests. The rational takes flight, such as the metaphysics which Kant aimed to limit in his Critique through reason. Too often these flights of the mind may lead from the rational to the irrational through false logic. Generally speaking, two predicates conceptualized by analysis can take the mind far from reality.
In a mind in the state of angst, like the Greeks, seek reason to combat the unknown, ignorance, fear, the unanswerable. The existential is, from the extreme of Ullman’s character to another extreme, harmonious encounters with nature, part of humanity and can also be seen. In all possibility of inter-connections, a fascinating aspect to being, is free if one is only to reconcile, like Dostoevsky’s Raskolnicov, and embrace the human intercourse- relating, and find one’s self, as Heidegger states- “at home.”.
Such dynamics, a range of existential phenomenon, are profoundly addressed by the reaction which has been the toil of artists, writers and poets, philosophers having to confront a society with wars, revolutions, inter-relational disputes, famine, poverty and demographic reconstruction and the phenomenon of angst and anxiety. Goya lived in a veritable mental prison, not only fighting psychosis but instantaneous loss of hearing. His mind was his prison, as his latter works may allude to.
In painting, one sees the terror in the eyes of many of Gericault’s mid- nineteenth century portraits; humanizing and sensitive representations of the mentally ill. Baudelaire casts an eerie shadow through his vivid depictions of the depths of the heart of Parisian life in the mid nineteenth century, and Giacometti portrays the anxiety of the 1960’s and demand for a more egalitarian society. These are only three examples from different epochs which demonstrate the pervasive state of angst and there is no apparent end to such metaphors.
Analytically, there is no quantifier to predict the effect the human environment will have on an individual, all are equally susceptible to existential phenomenon. Like the perfect relationship, the marriage, the subject of Bergman’s 1973 Scenes from a Marriage, one might not foresee the elements that premeditated the sudden rupture of this seemingly harmonious relationship. There may be no grounds for the character played by Erland Josephson and his sudden, apparently irrational departure from a blissful relationship and Liv Ullman’s reaction to an “absurd” situation. Yet one finds in Bergman’s second installment, Saraband, with thirty years of separation, an equally volatile relationship in the two. Love is irreconcilable between these irascible pair and the film concludes with Josephson’s final panic.
Phenomenology is succinct with the many factors one might find from without, in the “they,” or the “other,” in conflict with the self. It is an abstract discipline, theorized by Heidegger and many others including Sartre and is as relevant contemporaneously as it was valid for Plato. It was and will always be a universal reality.
A universal state of art, a performatist utopia is becoming more and more a contemporary condition. It is an integral aspect to post-historical art. A unique individual perception results when all viewers have a personal experience, resulting potentially in an alleviation of anxiety in a utopia of open dialogue which one might not find in art which is didactic or condemning. Such art only increases the phenomenon of angst. This is the case with Bill Viola’s video installations. Each viewer enters and leaves engaged in a potentially open discourse. The art, personal to each observer begs more questions than answers and invites intense contemplation.
Giacometti’s sculpture is universal, as is existentialism to a utopian ideology accessible in its relativism to all who participate in the human discourse. Giacometti’s beings exist in a mutual, homogenous existence while retaining the self, the core amidst the “they”. Only through self-recognition can the true authentic being be realized- can begin. By Sartre’s definition of existentialism true recognition must exist with a reflective consciousness. One must discover this essence in accord with the “other” or one is lost.
Ullman’s character was not without an almost perceptive intuitive voice; even she cannot fully mask her “persona.” However, for those without self imposed silence, for those who bear with their own proactive actions, the quality of “care,” Ullman’s hiding from the existentiality of the human phenomenon seems cowardly, one might find reason to condemn Ullman’s predicament and the phenomenon. But, tragically, like Sisyphus, this is what she has been dealt- her lot in life. However, as with freedom of choice, with agency, many bear the existential not as a burden but see beauty in it, the positive side of the human intercourse. A beauty such as this fills the many pages of Proust.
True to his own history, told by an elderly Marcel Proust, the invalid, exiled not by a choice but by necessity, evokes nothing more than impressions of his life upon his readers. The existentiality of Proust is rendered beautifully, lovingly, thoughtfully in a transplant of his gift to humankind- translated Time Regained, or In Search of Lost Time.
The episodes which constitute the six volumes are a fragmented narrative and are temporally interwoven. The weighty material of phenomenology and existentialism might be lightened here, where the weight of Berman’s characters in their angst is far heavier.
The existential questions of who, what, where, when, why and how might simply be answered in this study of human experience. It is apparent that with Proust, no slight is given to a thoughtful gesture, a touch, a smell, a memory, a moment which might be otherwise left ignored. In the processes of that which is human, Proust leaves no stone unturned, no idiosyncrasy for the mind, no confusion- Proust meanders his way adroitly and lucidly through his own experience, seemingly distanced from the reader’s yet with an air of freedom of expression and ease.
His Modern narration delves into those human “intangibles” which Proust presents lividly. It is Proust, from his early days in Combray, his experiences at Balbec, his travel to Venice and his final years in Paris who may reveal to the reader, not through rhetoric, but through biographical experience, an authentic alternative and fruitful “being.”
As an exemplar to the antithesis of the absurd, what is before the readers’ eyes is a very honest, truthful writer whom one comes to know. One might certainly find a unique quality to Proust’s existentialism. It might be safe to say that Proust had a love affair with life. His entire approach within the six volumes delves into a humanitarian study, first hand, of life at the fin de siècle, at the very pinnacle of cultural, political, sociological, demographic and economical states of being in Paris during those golden years.
The upheaval of Paris in the years just prior to Proust’s youth might be perceived as a universal, acute phenomenological reflective consciousness of the masses. A pervasive anxiety galvanized the inhabitants of Paris towards revolution, yet this galvanizing resulted in these golden years of Parisian history, the Fin de siècle and in no aspect of the writing of Proust does the reader confront the intensity of nineteenth century Parisian history which is ample in the works

Friday, February 12, 2010

Why I am like a Braque painting




Why I am like a Braque Painting

I like Braque. He was the analytical Cubist and continued to be so well into the synthetic phase and farther on when others allowed Cubism to delve into realms of Surrealism, including Picasso, whose shapes became a spectacle of fanciful forms and traces of what Cubism had been, now painted merely as Modernist icons with no real Modernist significance. Braque continues to pay attention to the dynamics of a composition well after others had made a farce of Cubism. He paid attention to special relationships and volume of the form within those relationships, as a room for example, where, and this is well into the 20’s, he still focused on the perspective of the viewer on this very blatantly artificial setting, this art setting that is a stage to challenge norms of special dynamics from the analytical eye of the viewer, witnessing the piece, not for any sort of representation but to examine these formulas and the malleability of the literal, or the absence of the literal, or absolute.
But back in the second decade of the cacophonous twentieth century, we see these elements manifest early in Braque’s early work, like the early Picasso, placing in that very two dimensional range of artifice, all that is deep, made up in short, of bodily planes, angles and perspectives of every sort, locked into this two-dimensional artificial reality, the reality that was almost a proof that art by its very two-dimensional, painterly nature could indeed house fathoms, multitude of depth and perspectival recessions and contradictions in the mode which is art, free, honest, true to its very nature as an artificial avatar yet able to contain the vicissitudes of a guitar player or a café table with all of the dimension that one might find in a piece by Velasquez or Manet.
Why I am like Braque painting is due to the artifice of the world and my own placement in it. That shallow plane is the reality of society, the expectations, limitations, demands and ironies that potentially “frame” an individual in this artifice. I defy that. Although I must obey the rules, I have no choice in this matter, I am slave to the artifice of the world; but I am no slave to myself and I am able to transcend this shallow plane by playing by the rules, but defying them through authenticity. The more I play this game, trapped in this artifice, the more my own authenticity becomes manifest. The more I concede the more my primal nature takes shape in this contradiction of acceptance of the artifice but establishing my own character, true to my authentic human being who sees and thinks in more than two dimentions, takes shape and my abstracted form, is able to breath and cultivate itself in this two dimensional space.
The age of the history painting is past and we subsist in a shallow existence- depth is an illusion and we cannot deny societal confines. Anyone who denies this is denying themselves. But I allow myself the freedom to express my multi-dimensionality in a way that Braque would, placing temperament against intellect, desire against fantasy till my character is so abstracted that it bears the sense of three dimensionality.

Thursday, April 16, 2009




LICENCE TO BE MADDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

The words I listen to on the HiFi express how I feel, which is a cavern of stalagmites and stalactites, a cavern which is continued on and on, the words I hear echo through the walls but only penetrate to a certain depth. The pain I feel penetrates farther. The pain I feel penetrates deeper and resonates and reverberates, causing a cacophony of waves which fluctuate in all directions. But this madness is not something lost. I have a control on my certitude, but how or much I do and do not have power over. My control is of a minimal extent. And with that life proceeds at a tolerable, pleasurable, manageable certitude. But there is another rate and that is a life with an acceptance of madness.
This life, be not swayed, is not one predetermined, but one meandered upon by choices of habit and desire, of love and lust. This life given to madness, is not given to with full fruition of insanity, but is freckled with tangible productivity, one not initially chosen but which is accepted to, with a greater degree, and with nothing sacrificed.
Having the means, a life that is to be lived with pleasure, must be lived with essence intermingled with leisure. Such a life, if attainable, can be durable with such pleasure, while a certain degree of madness is accepted and ALLOWED! Such seeking can be found by degrees of madness which are the ends of the productivity. Without such productivity, misery and loss are a result, but with a definite degree of productivity, one might, if chosen, find themselves in that certain state of madness which is the chosen pinafore of the productive state.
This certain intoxification is indeterminate, however, for the present, the writer chooses either nullity or intoxification to occupy himself with while all else is void. The degree of pleasure enabled by the present occupied state is entirely satisfactory, yet this state, left unattended, ostensibly will lead to boredom, or worse, inactivity which will only hinder and impede the occupied state. So either state, occupied or non should be consumed by a self imposed madness thereby benefiting both states of being.
The madness of the occupied state will increase the output of that state, and the freedom, and that is what we speak of, freedom of mind, will only liberate the state of being when the mind is not occupied in its employed state of being.
Thus, the reader might be assured that a state of productive eudemonia might be experienced by the writer in either states of occupation or leisure, the one contributing to the other. It must be stated that neither states of being are chosen, both are a product of self, but both reacting towards a state which might result in a perpetual pleasure, a euphoria resulting from an assurance that the ends accomplished are enjoyed by the means.
So it must be confessed that there, although there is no end to the echo in the cavernous depths, this cacophony of sounds, might be a joyous one. It might be confessed that this Ehren E. Clark might be a geological marvel in this cavern, this well deep into the Earth which has no end. This Ehren E. Clark is a unique wonder waiting to be beheld, with a character uniquely his own and forever to perpetuate.

Wednesday, December 31, 2008


Discovering ruins of a medieval abbey, wandering through it with a strange reverence, awe, one is filled with a feeling of wonderment. Upon exploring a castle nestled along the Rhine, why is it that our thoughts are elevated as we reflect to an age long past, stories recreated in our minds? Why when touring France and upon entering a cathedral, with its towering nave and illumination of light, we enter, not with a cheerful exuberance as we might have felt upon discovering the structure externally, but once inside this immensity, with a sense of solemnity, spiritual contemplation, rejuvenation and inspiration?
When a tourist navigates the ruins of the forum in Rome, the mind takes an imaginative journey to a day when all of this was in its grandeur, when the jagged remnants once housed senators and emperors. Westminster abbey recalls to the mind a sense of a thousand years of English history- kings, queens, stirring our minds and our hearts with a distant past, contrasting the busy streets outside and the flashing lights of the city. Even more so the ruins of Stonehenge in rural England bring to mind strange images and indescribable feelings of an obscure past to the soul- a mysticism is experienced at the mystery of an ancient culture with unseen abilities to create such a structure. The human spirit is elevated to new heights- as at the pyramids at Giza- a tribute to human capabilities and spirituality that is baffling to our modern sensibility.
Such is the same with wondrous contemplations of nature. The cliffs of Dover, on a cloudy day with stormy sees inspire the mind. The sun as it sets over the Pyrenees in the south of France; a forgotten rustic cottage nestled in some wood in the Alps- a sense of pure magic is felt. Even more dramatic are the moors of England, the Highlands of Scotland- they fill us completely with feelings unknown- a fullness and awe at the sublime creations of nature, and a connection with the Earth and that which is eternal.
The glory of the Danube meandering through Salzburg, the Volga, produce a new feeling with every turn and every mile of its continual flow of waters flooding our inner being with a wealth of permanence in the land; in this connection to that which is timeless we feel a security in the present- in our own self. We feel connected with the waters of the Mediterranean, the islands of Greece, the sun over the valleys and vineyards of Italy- a sense of calm repose with what once was and still is and will be continue to be. This sublime feeling of the world, that outward world, physical and natural, gives a greater sense of who we are, the possibilities we possess and the possibility of things to come challenging the anxieties we may have felt before we are transfixed by these revelations.
As we leave behind those things of a more temporal nature and contemplate that which is timeless and sublime, we reconnect with the spirit of humanity. The past and the present become one and for a moment we forget our troubles, feel the minutia of our lives and feel a sense of calm, a peacefulness and repose as we are lost in the wholeness of the universe. All in life is transient: the world seems to move forward at an alarming rate. One moment we are in our youth and the next we are experiencing the signs of age. Those things which connect us with something outside of ourselves, something of a more permanent nature, a timelessness, galvanize us for a moment to the non-ephemeral, the universal.

Pippi


Pippi Explores Place
Ehren E. Clark

Seasoned artist Anne Watson, Utah native who has lived in New York City for the past 18 years as a professional artist and has recently moved back to her home, has expressed her anxiety that “I cannot make sense of place very well, or time, or sense or nonsense”. In the upcoming exhibit Pippi Explores Place at the Art Access Gallery, the artist uses various media to initiate a search for truth, her truth, a confrontation with reality, and trying to make sense of that “place” she has been searching for- her “place”, her sense of identity, her oneness with the world. This accomplishment is achieved through a very unlikely source: through the eyes of the fondly remembered mischievous, tenacious and lovable childhood icon Pippi Longstocking.
Watson’s canvases are angelic, whimsical, surprising, naive, clever, aggressive, and never predictable. Painted by the hands of an expert who has left traditional painting behind and abandoned herself to forms of pure meaning, Watson’s work in the exhibit is a series of paintings linked together by common elements. She explains “I don’t do work which stands alone...it is a narrative, a story, a series.”
But it is Pippi Longstocking, childhood misfit, who is the star of the show, and she leads the narrative -as Virgil leads Dante through Purgatory and Paradise. Watson, who remembers and cherishes memories of Pippi from her childhood, owns the books and shares them with her daughter, has an interesting relationship with the icon- “muse”, “misfit”, “her voice”. “She speaks to me and helps me understand things- takes me through the ‘landscape’...she is the voice.”
Watson grew up in the west coast, left for college and subsequently received her MA in fine art at NYU. She has lived in New York City for 18 years as a successful artist, and in returning to her native Utah, has come full circle. She and her daughter have lived now in Utah for 3 years and her integrity as an artist has led her to this exhibition- “trying to understand place”. As she has returned to America’s heartland, she has sought truth in places of thought, places of landscape, places of environment, and places of self.
Using Pippi, Watson is able to explore her “landscape”. Pippi wanders capriciously through the hinterlands of the Western USA (which Watson rediscovers from her childhood), in a way that is honest, unprejudiced and unbounded, allowing for a free flow of thought. A motif which runs through the cycle is a flow words, randomly placed, arbitrarily positioned, seemingly autonomous and express innermost thoughts and feelings of Pippi her discovery of the “landscape”. These words are free form -the voice of Pippi: childish ramblings- but prophetic.
These flows of thought are most predominate of war- a theme pervasive in the cycle - that reality which forms an integral part of “place” so relevant to the “landscape” in which we all exist. When Watson was asked how Pippi feels about the war, she quickly responded that “she hates it! She hates the war, she hates violence, she hates stupidity.” When asked of her own feelings on the war, she stated; “I don’t have answers, but that is truth- facing uncertainty about what we are doing.... and the harm being done”. Watson uses Pippi’s honesty to discover “place” through the eyes of a child, which are susceptible and sensitive to injustice and the subtle inhumanities we are so inured to.
Watson is “grappling with place” and hopes that others will embark on a similar search. What Watson gives inevitably is honesty, and “the more honest the work, the more universal it is”. Watson wonders, when the public see the show, if “she (Pippi) will see you and talk to you, or maybe some will just walk by and yell, or some will simply say -‘dumb puppet’.”
Maybe after seeing these works some may go back to their attics, dust off their books of Pippi Longstocking and reminisce on that crazy rambunctious youth we all read and relive those memories, thought, ideals, and hold on a bit more to that which so often seems lost.

Michael and his Tricycle


Michael is a dreamer. Some young boys want to be firemen, or cowboys; Michael wanted to be a world class cyclist. This dream began when Michael was only three. While he watched television, he saw something that made him dream big. Michael saw on the television an amazing group of men, racing down a hill on something that Michael had never seen before because he was just three. Michael loved his toy cars and the machine that he saw on the television with men going fast down a hill was a little like a car but it was not. It had wheels and went down the road, fast, very fast, but this was something different and new. This machine had two wheels, not four, and, like a car, went fast, very fast. It was the speed that really caught Michael’s attention. This made Michael very excited. Michael had a new dream now, to be like one of these men, speeding down a hill with the world flying by him. He asked what that amazing machine was and his parents told him it was called a bicycle.
It was only a few weeks before Christmas and all that Michael could think about was what he asked, and asked and asked for- a bicycle like the one he saw on the television. Then he could go as fast as the men he saw on the TV. When Christmas morning came, racing downstairs to see what Santa had brought them, who do you think was first to see his presents. Michael because Michael ran fast, as fast as he could down the stairs, knowing that when he got there he would see that wonderful new shiny bicycle that would let him fly down the hill like the men he saw on the television. But, when Michael went into the living room, he saw something that looked a little like the bicycle, but it definitely was not like the one he had seen on TV.
What Michael found next to the Christmas tree had three wheels, not two; it was the same color as the one he saw on TV, had a handle like the one on the TV, but it had three wheels! Michael was confused. How could he go fast on that? Michael started to cry. He had wanted to be that man so much, to feel what he felt, and to go fast. Michael did not want to even look at this “thing”, which was definitely NOT a bicycle. His parents called it a tricycle and Michael did not like what Santa had brought him.
Day after day, the tricycle sat outside the back door. Michael became, day by day, little by little more and more curious till one day Michael thought he would look closer at the “thing” brought by Santa. He looked closely at it, the three wheels, the red frame, the shiny handle bars; Michael started to like his new present from Santa. His heart started to pump a little faster and then faster still. Faster till he touched the handle bars, then grabbed them, and as he grabbed those strong handle bars, he threw his leg over the seat and get on the new tricycle.
The first thing Michael saw, like the man on TV, was that his legs were long enough to turn the pedals. Then he noticed his arms reached to the handle bars like the man on the television. Maybe this tricycle was not such a bad thing after all. Michael suddenly had an exciting thought. “Maybe, maybe, with three wheels I can go even faster” he said to himself! He called to his mother to see if she would let him drive along the sidewalk. He did not even notice that because it had three wheels he did not have to learn how to ride this tricycle, but suddenly he felt his dream might come true!
Michael started slowly and then peddled harder and then harder and even harder till he felt the wind on his face, saw the world go by and he felt he WAS that man on the TV! But for Michael, he thought he could go even faster. He had THREE wheels, not two! He did not know that the next year he would get a two wheeled bicycle with training wheels. The year after that the training wheels would be gone. Who knows, maybe someday Michael really will race down the hill with the world flying by him, going fast, very fast.