Well, I was wrong about finishing this series of paintings in January; this “Hive Alive” painting has really morphed into a time-consuming project. And I’m not going to hurry it since it’s also proving to be a real joy. Maybe in February or March. I found this clear plastic bag full of hair and all it said on the bag was “bueno.” I couldn’t agree more so I stuck it in my pocket. A bit more scouring around and turns out to be fiber from the Stein Fiber Company. So I have all this cool fiber now; some of it is real short and afro-like, some long and straight, some long and really kinky . . . so there’s a relatively large section of this “Hive Alive” construct which looks like a devastated, pus-oozing, scabbed-over, hairy bit of road rash; it’s all purple and looks like it should smell bad, Ha, Ha, Ha . . . And I found the can of gold metallic spray-paint I needed. I mean, what the hell; what are the odds? And the manner in which I found it is so bizarre it simply defies probability theory. It’s all prana of course; prana speaks to those who listen and I’ve been celibate for 14 years this January so I listen whether I want to or not. I have a love affair with prana – no kidding. Not some love like “I love chocolate; I love coffee; I love chocolate covered coffee-beans” but, rather, like “I love His Holiness the Dalai Lama;” a spiritual love, of the highest order. Sometimes, at the end of my pranayama practice, while chanting AUM and cycling the prana in the “micro-cosmic orbit,” I get lost in it . . . the love I mean . . . or, maybe, it’s the actual prana itself I get lost in . . . I’ve never considered that. Prana is the solution to Bell’s Inequalities; it’s what facilitates quantum entanglement. William Tiller explores it theoretically with his “deltron moiety” and some scientists, who lack Dr. Tiller’s meditation experience, explore it with “Super-Deterministic Hidden Variable Theories” – boy, that’s a mouth full. Of course prana isn’t really hidden; at the final assessment all we really are are little balls of distinct prana – Thou art That! Anyway, I reworked the “Centrically Integrated: Argonaut” ramble; it’s now the “Hive Alive” ramble: Six different metallics, silver, cobalt, copper hue – piss jars of ethylene art sense – viper blue, canary yellow, paliochrome orange – aromatic flayed hood pattern scrambler ephemeral. Constipated sinus roto-rooter chemical, a hazard to the huffer system; Blown away . . . nerve damage? Colors communicate with mathematical precision; a matrix model of emotive association varied, the whole invaded by the determinant; Multiple layers of subtlety, a cosmic dance in art space; courage expressed in crazy leaps of tonal subset to cofactor noise – music transposed– defined by colored multiples, splashes, drips, runs, and intricately celebrated strokes of loving tenderness . . . A logical tautology semantically woven without regard for syntax. Association not association becomes raw awareness . . . by logical default. I have a dream to see, a hall, sculptural transcendence hewn from young mountain flesh energy cry rippling . . . with integrity; A node in the network Spiritual. Dedication: To whom do we owe gratitude? In the end it gets easier but Sub-self dynamics tells a limited tale. There are the Others; one mustn’t neglect the Others. The Others belong to Self not self if a difference can be shown, maybe . . . another self-supporting tautology granted for the sake of mercy. It’s all sublimated message from Outer to Inner; experience justifies the lazy lie; Without the lie, there would be no experience. Masochism? . . . I cut for the love of blood . . . sport; a self-induced deliverance for the Love of the Other, the Universal Feminine aspect of Others sub-divided categorically in true Matrix fashion: The Mother feeds on scarred flesh warriors . . . Telepathically words are impotent Eunuchs, fat, whimpering, bloated, and useless in straight connectivity psychic pressure – the message interspecies – and hounds cry . . . I howl at the Moon like all other cult members; Pagan Mother worship demonstrations ecstatic of secret communities. Some secrets shall remain . . . St. Stephen style. Much is lost, much more than doubt and pain, but Enlightenment is not for faint of heart nor is artistic endeavor. I have entities in my head, a maelstrom of contradiction so I cut, puke, shit, but celibate I remain! For certain they don’t belong but I entertain with wrath a deliverance . . . I will not be held up by a goddamn dog! Did I mention eggshell blue? Baby food jars? I consume the food and the paint. Butternut squash and infant formula keep artists regular, on schedule; robotic like encapsulated schematics of internal wiring gone haywire – a color-fest grounded in painted love; Freud wouldn’t understand. You see, I work in the gutter but one can’t spell gutter without gut(s). Bukowski knew: “Ah baby, look around, it’s a cage with golden bars . . . “ “Ah baby, no one who writes worth a damn can ever write in peace . . . “ “Ah baby, I don’t hate people, I just seem to feel better when they’re not around . . . “ “Ah baby . . . “ In the end most all succumb to peace Postal-style like circular horses in latitudes of death screaming and swimming against insurmountable mediocrity, a small taste of madness: Sellout? You live in a car parked on random streets for ten years and then call me a sellout. Gabby Gibby, too much acid mixed with philosophia punk rock Texas bourbon style leads to nihilistic visions of suicide magic beatnik dreams. Only the myths save the day. In the end Oedipus is blinded by fate; a certain testament to the presence of the Universal Other. The fates lead those who will; those who won’t they drag. Magenta? Magenta says so much with cadmium, medium hue, I scream and cry and lick pus filled scabbed over innards of dumpsters just to remind the craziest . . . I am crazier. I eat trash because I’ve grown accustomed to liking daydream fever hallucinations. And this is reflected in rambling colors of fumigated piss jar joviality. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 18:39:21 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015