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O great grandmother of Eden, i know not, if the sun will rise tomorrow. * The world is a rough hewn womb, only the flow goes on. * An infinite line folding & unfolding the enclosure of a turbulent dream, that knows not, * What, i’ll think next, as i wind the shuddering specters of ephemeral yesterdays * Bearing the effrontery of a helpless deceit, the dust of existence that knows not now, but bits only to see, * On the endless waves sea horses lead, only to see. ***
I received notice of this artist through this great page at Blebop, Jazz Festivals of the World It is the energy of the Flamenco style and the drama of Spain that makes the music work so well with the piano. Ariadna Castellanos reminds me of the guitar and offers a refreshing and sparkling perspective. In this featured piece she is dramatic and the piece is a strong statement. I love it when the instrument is played, not played at, when art has something dramatic to say and you find someone who is damn well willing to say it. She makes my day and I hope she makes yours. David Michael Jackson Visit her website
Born of rust & stardust, chaos & order, turbulence & form, * break, flow on. * A crackle in the wind, a bent shadow, a will-o’whisp haunted by a memory. * Orange in the species, scattered peel in pine needles & dead white sticks, * another primate. * Wind in the trees, howling on the left, blowing on the right, rain in the face. * Space crumpled like litter, cries of aviary, entangled light years, * under transient skies. |
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