Tortured By Sidewalks

It Wasn't Me -- It was That Damn DeKoonig Retrospective

2012-03-04T17:50:00.003-08:00

My Life... Devoid of Verdant Greens

2012-03-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

If We All Think at Once, We'll Never Get Anywhere. # Vierzen

2012-02-24T17:33:00.003-08:00

If We All Think at Once, We'll Never Get Anywhere. # Thrice

2012-02-24T17:27:00.001-08:00

If We All Think at Once, We'll Never Get Anywhere. # Twice

2012-02-24T17:25:00.001-08:00

If We All Think at Once, We'll Never Get Anywhere. # Once

2012-02-24T17:18:00.004-08:00

Just Enough Brains Left in Tact to Exult

2012-01-16T18:33:00.000-08:00

Well Bred Bad Taste

2011-12-25T16:18:00.000-08:00

Return These Hands to my Father... Who's Afraid of Morandi?

2011-12-04T17:51:00.000-08:00

Plunge Headlong Into the Shit. Just... One... More... Time...

2011-11-13T17:57:00.000-08:00

Maybe, Maybe Life Will Be A Little Less Horrible Slightly Further On

2011-10-28T17:56:00.000-07:00

Life is a Thing of Beauty and a Joy Forever... He Said Without a Whit of Irony

2011-10-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

The Less I Think About It, The More Sure I Am

2011-09-16T11:27:00.000-07:00

But, I Was Still Anxious for my Little Joy -- From Time to Time

2011-08-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

No Memory of Morning, No Hope of the Night

2011-08-26T18:05:00.001-07:00

Let Him Sleep - He Has No Idea About What Life Can Do to Him

2011-08-26T18:04:00.000-07:00

In the Resignedly Optimistic Way in Which One Approaches the Truth -- One Day, One Day...

2011-07-13T17:29:00.000-07:00

The Gray Sky Better Suited my Humor

2011-07-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

No, Just the Daily Longing to be Swallowed up by the Earth

2011-06-26T17:48:00.001-07:00

Happily, the Weather was Fine & I was no Longer Alone. Happily, Happily...

2011-06-22T13:44:00.000-07:00

I Can't Go on Like This -- That's What You Think

2011-06-17T18:31:00.000-07:00

I Too was Innocent -- But I Knew It

2011-06-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

Safe in Heaven, Dead.

2011-04-29T18:29:00.000-07:00

I Smiled -- Anticipating the Day That I Too Would Be an Old Man Walking Slowly

2011-04-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

I've Always Enjoyed Doing Nothing -- I'd do it More Often if I Could Afford it

2011-04-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

In The Morning Frost The Cat Steps Slowly

2011-04-03T17:40:00.000-07:00

Happy?! Nobody I Know is Dumb Enough to be Happy

2011-03-21T17:35:00.000-07:00

The Slow Grey Tide Emptied & Filled, Emptied & Filled...

2011-03-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

The Infinite Possibilities of a Blue Sky on a Saturday Morning

2011-03-13T17:55:00.001-07:00

Dwelling Happily in Things as They are

2011-03-06T16:13:00.000-08:00

Let Me Alone. Can't You See I'm Thinking of the Days When I was Happy?

2011-02-04T16:35:00.000-08:00

What do we do now, now That we are Happy?

2011-01-22T19:02:00.000-08:00

Nothing to be Done

2011-01-09T18:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I Smiled, as if I Were Dead Already

2010-12-30T14:09:00.000-08:00

We Always Find Something to Give Us the Impression We Exist, Don't We?

2010-12-18T07:32:00.000-08:00

Most of the Time I Just Want to be Left Alone

2010-12-06T16:50:00.000-08:00

Like a Hermit's Joy -- of Early in the Morning

2010-10-31T15:16:00.000-07:00

Reading

2010-10-31T14:48:00.000-07:00

Don't we all discover at some age or another that there are some things we'll never get any better at, even though we have no idea why and hardly ever notice it when it happens, even though we may have enjoyed these things and might not have been lagging behind last time we checked? Learning to draw for instance, was a familiar catastrophe--all of a sudden, unaware, you just stop getting any better at it, your drawings never progress beyond those of a four-year-old or a six-year-old, you're left behind by those who "can draw," condemned to producing flat doughy figures on the page, with no sense of perspective to them and (this was what really struck me) no resemblance to the outside world: condemned by your ruined self to a shameful childhood. It was the same for lots of other things you were supposed to get better at, and even though the teachers and the coaches--themselves beyond repair--tried their best, they too were stuck, unable to grasp that we just couldn't understand what they effortlessly understood. Something in each of us was broken beyond repair.
-- Jean-Christophe Valtat from his novel "03"

Unto an Island - Free From This Show of Personality & Cruelty, Actually

2010-09-10T17:57:00.000-07:00

William Carlos Williams — In Summer, the Song Sings Itself — William Carlos Williams

2010-08-04T16:37:00.000-07:00

Abandons Himself to the Pleasant Feeling of Being Freed from all Responsibility

2010-06-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

Birds Race and Swoop -- Two Ants Hurry to Catch up to Lonely Joe

2010-06-24T13:54:00.000-07:00

Gradually then Suddenly -- Like a man going broke (or getting rich, I imagine.)

2010-04-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

Harbingers Etc. III

2010-03-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

A great calm stole over him. No -- That is an exaggeration. He felt a little better.

2010-02-28T18:53:00.000-08:00

Promise of Warmth and Memory. Oh no. That won't do.

2010-01-31T17:17:00.000-08:00

The Winter Had Been Exceptionally Rigorous. What Tedium. Very Pretty.

2010-01-05T17:24:00.000-08:00

On the threshold of being no more –– I succeeded in being another

2009-12-06T20:13:00.000-08:00

Beckett and Duchamp Playing Chess

2009-11-16T19:35:00.000-08:00

Cats Stalking One Another –– Oblivious to Me in my Window

2009-11-16T19:33:00.000-08:00

Just this time, Then once more, Then perhaps a last time –– then I think it will be over. (triptych)

2009-09-29T19:24:00.001-07:00

Manifest, Oh?

2009-09-29T19:23:00.000-07:00

Serious hard-jawed, high brow art –– bald artists in black berets (black-rimmed glasses). Don’t believe it. Create only for yourself (see: myself) from with-in. No rules, no precedent, no words to define that blissful ignorance. Remove the intellect –– naked, raw, spontaneous, non-thinking (ideally). Something eternal ‘bout that canvas –– something primal ‘bout putting paint on that ole burlap-y. I’ll never do it better than nature herself –– can only make it my own so it exists independently in and of itself. Make ‘em poems. At least that’s the way I feel to-day –– may change to-morrow –– and indeed it may, it may.

What Other Planet Features This?

2009-09-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

Farther & Wider

2009-09-01T19:18:00.000-07:00

Far & Wide Day by Day

2009-08-04T15:06:00.000-07:00

Our Time, it is Not Long

2009-07-01T17:16:00.001-07:00

fwooo… kshhhh… fwooooo…. kssshhhhhh… etc.

2009-04-26T07:38:00.000-07:00

The golden glow curls, breaks, flits & sprays –– wow. And does it again, and does it again, and does it again… Get it? Better stay until I’m bored. Let it sink, drink it up, punch it IN –– the IN within will have to come out someday.

fields astride, nantuket

2009-04-26T07:26:00.000-07:00

What lies behind rolls, glimmers and shimmers in macrocosm all the way across the Atlantic and to ports unknown. Grass under gray sky dances in mimicry of ancient ocean. Concord of Nature Itself –– together, separate, as one & alone –– perfect.
The infancy of love, the nascent of ‘until death do us part’ and the Decent of death. Hands that can't warm themselves anymore make their last impression. The last hurrah of Wadleigh’s infinite wisdom. Two loons, full of Moon & Rusty Nails fear not death and stand, sing & wail, triumphant with life. Let it be, Benny.

through halos and rolls and gold folds

2008-05-07T19:11:00.000-07:00

Visions on the pond. Revealing and naked again – nothing new here but vision remembered – ahhh. A return. Evening fall is blessing the earth – tragic and hopeful clouds of golden glow. And dusk returns again – the Pond calls it a day. Yet another successful day of reflecting, shimmering, lapping, madly capping and quiet again – gone. Reflecting seagulls, birds, big dumb dogs, fisherman with sad tragic big brown eyes, eagles & jet trails scratching at perfect blue purity. The pond never holds on – lets them come lets them go. Great god clouds of evening – white, gold, red, blackens - moon. And the walkers cease walking.

And spring is exploding out of the earth again. Never ceasing to soften, warm and amaze even the hard hearted hardest New Englander. Old Yankees resigned to stubborn-lostness cant help but to turn inward to the life exploding outward.

The Dusk is rolling over the earth – painting red skies and making clouds glow all over the earth. Rolling in one swath across lands, trees ants and seas. But the falling sun is constant - unfolding somewhere and will make its way back tomorrow and paint a new canvas here with all the gusto of a Man eating Bouillabaisse. Leaving black blotches in the bushes it reddens skies westward. And Oh the sorrow – knowing that you cant drink it in enough – cant punch it deep enough in your gut – and cant ever puke it up better than Nature itself! And its all yours for $425.

gallery590

ART + BRUNCH. 3.30.08

2008-03-24T18:13:00.001-07:00

Wisconsin

2007-10-04T16:24:00.000-07:00

Well by and by I begin feeling the boyhood summer vacation days sinking back in - 1298 miles (google map) from birth in the great Eau Claire, Wisconsin. It is a mid-summer funeral vacation and woe my Grandmother is dead – is dead – is dead. Blonde hair blue-eyed strapping Viking babies and rugose relatives never before seen by me. And by and by I see life on the Chippewa River is free and easy – just like I remember floating homemade mini canoes down imagined rapids and following with wide eyes to great beyond – never to learn its fate.

Now seeing big red rock bluff cut through the landscape with easy river below on which ancient feather Indians paddled white birch canoes. And lo and behold I am back in my room of central air conditioning (everybody has it out here) to escape from the cicada humming heat bouncing off vacant parking lots of a million Wisconsin summers. And Ahhhh day-time TV of infinite boyhood summer afternoon ennui (Price is Right, Gilligan, Monkees etc.) – you will never be as free with this glorious slow down of time and naaathin’ to do. And lo and behold – a Cubs game – the humm drum shhh shooosh of day time baseball game and soon – A NAP!

Later to be reacquainted with Jell-o salad, Brats, Beer and that ubiquitous macaroni dish. “go home and get married…boy I tell ya when I was your age…” ya good luck ho ho ho me thinks but don’t protest too much.

And OOOO don’t cha’ know visions of Franz Kline and Mayberry all rolled in to one.

Great Gray Greens

2007-10-02T19:46:00.001-07:00

This is this and that is that and whats black is black and the great green that explodes out of the earth every year - satori every summer. Finally. then gone again. So we wait till next year - but if you can remember to say "ahhhh" and let it be - soak it in comma only worry that you just can't breath it in deep enough.

Franklin Park

2007-10-02T11:20:00.000-07:00

Ralph Emerson lived on School Master Hill in Franklin Park. He found something to say 'neath the new england pines and fields that stretched as far and wide as any other field in this universe (now a golf course). The colors are as thick as they were in 1850something - never a fools paradise when its your backyard.