Laminations in Lacquer. Audio Textual Poem. Excerpt from Moon by Robin Ouzman Hislop

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http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
 

 
 
In a bright lit night, he lays his bed
deep in hues of Lapis Lazuli.
In the corners sit the winds
dressed like musical chairs.
 
An olive ferments in a pastel saucer
into mossy green minutiae
where a painted flower swallows
against its form, liquid spaces
in lean reflections towards a bottomless well.
 
Veils swim on the verge the flower
defines drawn against
an olive splash of skin
in the glazed lacquer
gloss to the anonymous images.
 
A cock crows cockle doodle do
discrete, concrete, on the fronds
ruffles in the red sprocketed throat
a screech of feathers
stilled in the flower’s passion
in the pool’s hoard.
 
The gibbous mound
a crimson flash in the curtain
through which he passes
beneath the bridges.
A stairway in pastel hue
laps tranquilly cool
to a hole in a wall
a cavernous breach which retains
the scream of the arch
scrawled on a screen
defiant in the stance of plumages
hordes of epiphanies
buried in petrified pastel ripples.
 
Below the rift of its eye
the sealed beak that will open
gleams on the lee.
 
Throughout the entire circumference
can be seen the tilt giving rise
to both translucence, transparency
where the acid, oil separate
only to appear to coalesce
in the almost pure liquid sheen
containing its own light
even in the presence of the vegetative
silt at the bottom of the bowl.
 
At the moment of its brimming
at that line of definition
in a room that roams without corners
he must rise with a chalice of blood for lips of shades
where the vertigo edge of the flower distils the dish
together with the quantities of immeasurable throng
on watery groves billowing with ivy bowers
sprung over hidden lairs of concealed hoards.
 
Night begins and the dogs draw nigh
scavenging for scraps
yapping at the walker’s naked ankles
in the dust of unknown alleys.
 
The broken lights of the bazaar
spangle with glittering promises
the eyes of the dusky beggar
sunk in their sockets maze
in crooked cul de sacs embargo
amidst the furls of silk that foil
the flickering lantern niche
throttled in an olive tray
whilst the flower’s blur does not allow
the stroke that blurs its horizon
and all beneath to return.
 
It is helpless in its light
a camouflage to visitation
to the sigh of the rock’s flow
so few, so few, so few.
 
The olive saturates its wish
outlining monuments amidst the rubble
in momentary musical explosions
and the spell is cast.
 
Fireworks like a diaphanous lithograph
print an emblazoned sky
on the craggy mountains of the night
where comets play at kites
& glistening the eerie beak hisses.
 
 

 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems and translations from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae (the award winning XIII Premio César Simón De Poesía). In November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds, UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020.

Art and Interview with Fabrice Poussin

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Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes,La Pensee Universelle, Paris and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.

A conversation between Fabrice and David Michael Jackson of Artvilla

David:
Like me you write poetry and make art. I have also found that my fellow musicians are good at art…..
I feel that all three are visual. Like jazz, they all start off not knowing where they are going and often end up somewhere unexpected not quite knowing how they got there.
Do you feel a connection between the poetry and the art?

Fabrice:

I most definitely agree. Baudelaire speaks of “correspondences,” within which everything becomes connected.In fact, I believe that my personal exploration is an attempt at strengthening these connections. And I do love jazz by the way.

David:
Music is social, everyone finds expression within a strict structure…It’s a club where your skill gets you in……art is an individual activity and inclusion is subjective….Is it a club where your friends get you in?

Fabrice:

That is both an excellent and difficult question to answer. There is little doubt that your skills get you in the arts scene. I would suggest that if your friends get you in, then perhaps it becomes some sort of artistic nepotism. I would hope that those who get you in may become your friends later, but I would wish that friendship is not what will get anyone in at the beginning. While friends (as mine did) may suggest avenues and ways to “get in,” none should do more than that. A friend of mine is in fact very worried as to the current state of the publishing world, in which he believes knowing the people on the editing board is more important to the magazine than the quality of the work submitted. I think that not having friends in the circle is, as it is in essence impartial, a much better judgment or evaluation of the work of the artist. It often seems that to be successful one needs to know the right people, people who excel at marketing any product, then one is in, regardless (to some extent) of the real and potential canonic value of his or her work. Yes, the artist is often a loner and he/she can receive some important feedback and be influenced by others, but ultimately being alone as an artist is probably essential. His or her work may not become very popular as a result, but one’s integrity to one’s art should always prevail.

David:

I understand. I’m part of the problem. My training is in Mechanical Engineering. I’m the ultimate outsider artist who decided to be the Magazine of Modern Art, Poetry and Music and let myself in. Now I’m contacted by Artsy and DavidZwirner Gallery because they want a link. The engineer has hit every keyword, it seems, with my poems and art. I’ve still never published a poem or been in a gallery. Artvilla is a record label in “The Orchard”….My spoken word is in Itunes and all of them, I have a blue checkmark on my Facebook Page. It’s “verified”….yet without Zwirner, The New York Times or Artsy or some other club to say so, I’m magnetic spots on a hard drive….
Multiply me by 10,000 and that’s the scene.
The engineer Dave did a series on artists. I have a page on hundreds of artists…..40 Renaissance, 40 Post, 30 Impressionists, 30 Post, 20 cubists, 40 abstract expressionists…….Modern Famous Artists? 450
Everybody is a writer, a poet, has a book. There are so many musicians and we don’t know their names.
My question:
Is it crowded in here? Have we lost our filters?

Fabrice:

Funny you mentioned being an engineer. I used to know a mechanical engineer who was also a jazz musician. He said something I will never forget, although I cannot remember his exact words. It does provide help to the question you pose however.
Is it crowded in here? Absolutely! But is that a bad thing? by all means no! I discuss this with friends from time to time. We speak of the works left behind by those writers we know, and we have to wonder how many may have been geniuses but never had the opportunity to express themselves either because they were not educated, did not have the luxury of time, or simply could not afford the equipment necessary to produce any form of art. One may then ask whether those medieval writers are in fact the best of their time, or the best by default. All had to have patrons then and that made it very difficult to be an artist. As a result, we may very well look at older works an wonder if or why they are what we have to celebrate past centuries. It is not because the times were crowded or had no filters, but rather because it is all we have left. How many other Shakespeares, Homers, Sapphos, Davincis, etc. never had a chance to express the immense talent which may have been hiding within.
Going back to the friend I mentioned before, he spoke of electronic keyboards and is thankful that those exist and can be purchased at a reasonable price. He merely stated that they democratize otherwise elitist domains of our cultures. To him they are a wonderful gift which may allow all those musicians who can afford neither piano lessons, nor a Steinway, to learn, practice, enjoy, and deliver great music to us. That is true for all arts. I know a great many people who call themselves professional photographers, and they are to an extent, as they make money with photography and it is their main financial resource in life. Are they artists? most likely not. However, by the same token, having access to a digital camera enables most to experiment, play, and possibly produce some very artistic photos. Most cannot afford a Leica, a Hasselblad or large format equipment. Thus talent will be revealed which otherwise would be forced to remain in the shadows.
It is certain that with all the publications around, filters are few and certainly not contemporary to us. Ultimately time will tell. We have to trust in the fact that this huge and growing crowd will bring forth artists who would otherwise have been ignored. I suspect it will take several decades, but I am certain that these filters will in fact give us a much better artistic crop.

David:
I like what you say about the crowd being good for the art. We want this thing called fame. Van Gogh has a better curator but his colors will fade and turn to dust also along with his name. How can greatness exist in the face of billions of years. The individual standing beside me in the crowd is just as great as I and their expression is as lacking in that thing we call timeless as Rembrandt. I am the greatest player in my movie and Rembrandt is only something I saw in a book. If nothing is timeless then what is there to say?

Fabrice:

I am not so sure that nothing is timeless. If one looks at the details, then perhaps one will see that all fade away, and rather quickly. But when we look at the big universal picture, then I believe all things are timeless. I am also not certain that the timelessness of things is essential or even that important, at least as something on which we should focus. Should the contemporary artist be concerned about this aspect of the work, perhaps he or she is not focusing enough on what art is, as ephemeral as it may seem.
Considering the human message, it is timeless and I would have to venture, immortal. We, as its authors, will come and go, disappear and be forgotten, but the part we play in the message will subsist, and that is really what matters. As I have often stated before, art is not really a choice, rather it is a responsibility, whichever form it takes within its creator. Ultimately all we have to do to understand this, is pick up art books, anthologies of literature, or compilations of musical pieces, to name just a few. Then we get a sense of what the global picture may be as it travels though time and space.
Of course, I would not assert that anthologies and such compilations are ideal, but they allow the reader, viewer, listener, to make the connections between remote eras of our human existence and see the links between one artist and the next, thus adding to the message of the predecessors. This is where the timelessness of art resides, not within the individual artist, but within the encyclopedia of our human works. We must say what we believe and leave it to posterity to create this beautiful kaleidoscopic image which is the amalgam of our individual works. That is timeless and essential.

David:
I apologize for the last question. It was nihilism itself and reminds me of some hard question you’d ask in a job interview. I find your art and landscape photos to be soothing. I’ve been following some galleries and I’m engaged by the question of intent vs perception as I read artist statements. Has art become about the words? When I look at Rothko’s paintings, am I supposed to feel emotion because of the paintings or because he told me to, the gallery person told me to, or the museum guide? What is the meaning of art. Is it in the intent or the perception?

Fabrice:

You ask some very great and thought provoking questions. Thank you for that. A book I read some time ago, and even wrote a paper about is “La Chambre Claire,” (Camera Lucida) by Roland Barthes, the famed French Literary critic. In his book he speaks of what he calls the “punctum,” or also in other words, to him, the umbilical cord which connected him to photographs. This is something which I have spoken about many times since. Barthes also wrote an article entitled “The Death of the Author,” in which he argues that a text, and by extension a work of art, once completed, or considered completed by its author, is no longer his/her property, it becomes that of the reader/audience. Thus, while the intent of the creator is interesting, it is not essential, and perhaps in fact impedes the true perception the recipient may have.
As viewers, we may listen to history lessons, social context, biographical information, and explanations about the work’s origins, but we must not let them tell us how or what to feel. Often I am told by viewers or readers of interpretations of my work which had never occurred to me before, and that is essential to art in general.
At the very least there could be a cooperation between the viewers/readers and the work of art. Again, as suggested by Barthes, that is the way in which a piece of art acquires life, and will endure, survive, and even strive in the coming decades, centuries, or even longer.
As we look at more contemporary artists, of course, it may be useful to have a little more background as to their inspirations, motivations, and techniques. Yet, one may remember how difficult it was for the impressionists, now beloved by most, to be recognized as serious artists. Knowing how the works presented relate to a time period is most certainly useful, studying the art is necessary, but ultimately that “gut feeling,” or attraction to the work, is what matters most, what will ensure that the work may have a future.
Gallery owners must make money, so do literary agents, therefore the public will have a role to play in the survival of the works. I often tell those who come to me for advice as to their photography or poetry that there is really little I can help them with. They must create as they please, having acquired some technique and merely have the confidence that the work is what they intended to create for themselves, not for others. Then the piece becomes a gift to be loved or rejected. We may listen to all the voices around, but it is up to the individual recipient to sift through all the input, let it simmer, and ultimately observe how it has changed him/her.
Does the author always have to have an intent aside from creating art? Must the audience always decipher the works in their most intricate details? Can the artist merely be a creator who offers his work to the most intimate level of satisfaction of the audience without any further questions? I suppose what matters most is that every creation has a reason to exist, regardless of its reception. I may not like the works of one artist or even an entire artistic tradition, but that should not matter; it is important, and that alone must lead me to respect it for its humanistic value.
Is it intent or perception? It can be both, it can be either or, or it may be none. The question becomes that of the work’s chances for survival. It is as if audience and creators are placed in a test tube and merely subjected to each other by accident, and that is how it should be: an emerging experiment which will in fact result in everlasting “beauty.”

Janet Kuypers’ poetry “November 2017 Book Release Reading” 11/1/17

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video stills from show

    November 1st marked a November 2017 Book Release Reading through Community Poetry of new books from Scars Publications, which saw the release of the books “Warrior’s Light” from cc&d magazine (with cover photography of the “diamond ruing” of the sun peeking behind the moon during the total eclipse of the sun 8/21/17); and “Monsters” from Down in the Dirt magazine. In his reading, Janet Kuypers read performance art poetry material from cc&d magazine’s book, and haiku as well as poetry from “Monsters”.

    Because there was time during this feature poetry reading event, Janet Kuypers also read material from her 2014 mini-books (from her “Partial Nudity”/“Revealed” book releases) “Part of my Pain”, “Twitterati”, and “Let me See You Stripped” as the finale to the Community Poetry @ Half Price Books reading in Austin.

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Poems in this show include (in multiple readings):
the Bathroom at the Green Mill
Frozen Together
the Battle at Hand
On Ashes
Kick Someone Out
Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls

knife
easy
ghosts
Ernesto
Just Thinking About It
Political Merry-Go-Round
Verge on Meditation

Good Escape
In These Times
Part of my Pain
Now That You Got Me
Ever Since you Got Me
Know You Only Got Me
Push Your Button
How People Interpret my Words
Observer’s Love Poem

Poverty in America
Oklahoma water-surfing
Zach makes me Think about these Things
Mechanical Soldiers
Fingers Black
You Cannot Burn Me
Opening Our Own Doors
Guantanamo Bay
Even if the Pope Claims It
Quenching Anybody’s Thirst
From Words to Wars
Money Became an Abstract
Where does the Love Go
Spent
Cast in Stone

Like I was Never There
Scratch the Surface
You are a Force
You Repel Me
Holding Hands

Art For Sale Nashville

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Videos are fun….Our choice for art for sale in Nashville is Art for sale Original

The Metaphor of the Wind Poem 2020

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diptych in red yellow and blue
David Michael Jackson

The poem needs a blog
and the blog a poem.
The New Year needs
a poem tossed to the winds,
the vague,
the invisible
the unmasked wind,
the metaphor wind,
announcing the metaphor sunrise
in an old blog
from an old man
in a new year.

These words are stored with magnetic spots
that are neither black nor white
nor laying on the pages of a book
waiting for the wind
from the window
to turn the page.
.
These words are there
to scroll by and be gone,
their movement
leaving metaphor winds
in a room.

….David Michael Jackson

Conundrum’s Child | Poem by Ron Olsen

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conundrums child

Conundrum’s Child
By Ron Olsen

What purpose then
Do the poet’s words serve?
Might as well ask
Why we stick around at all
Absent the courage to be
Or not
The Bard nailed it
Many times over
Moderation
Consideration
Determination
Words tempt the soul
To surrender
Without a fight
Your choice
Is no choice at all
Breathing in hope
Sputtering out damnation
Leaving you
Battered
Bruised
Deathlike
Not caring
For common needs
The poet bleeds
Without cause
Glory
Passes to stardust
The cosmic laughter
Of children
Finding their way home
Casts light
On the void
Another step
In the search
For one true thing
Guiding the poet’s pen
With a gift of grace

© 2015 Ron Olsen – all rights reserved

 

malibu

Ron Olsen is an LA-based retired journalist who writes essays and an occasional poem.  More of his poetry can be found here.

 

 

 

 

Plumber Poem | by David Michael Jackson

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plumber poem

There I was
under the house again
crawling in water
toward a tiny stream,
a small waterfall
between a crawlspace and a wet hell,
because the commode is a water devil.
Feed me water, it says,
or take a ride to a gas station, friend!

I approach the leak,
crawling in a leak creek,
avoiding the call to the plumber,
between a crawlspace and a wet hell,
dragging my wet tools minus the one I need,
minus the one tool the plumber know that he needs,
or she, should she also be
crawling between a crawlspace and a wet hell
with the tool that
I don’t have.

I approach the leak,
which only drips at me now,
I approach with my vast knowledge gained from
minutes of watching videos, with my
shark bites, my compression fittings,
my torch, my solder, my flux,
minus that tool I missed in the video.

“Blast ye Gods of human plumbing distress I cry!”
as I turn wet and humbled,
as I drag myself
toward that small rectangular hole
at the end of a long dark wet
crawl, hoping nothing is moving ahead of me.
“Who needs a plumber!”
I call as I emerge
flat on my back exhausted in the sunshine,
and hear the words,
“I need to go to the bathroom.”

________________________________________________

Plumber Poem by David Michael Jackson 2019
________________________________________________

Plumbing Clarksville

Art Galleries of the World

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World Art Galleries
Banner design by David Michael Jackson

Our efforts at a sister site, ArtforsaleOriginal are an ambitious attempt to provide a way for artists and galleries to get to know each other.  The index of world galleries is  here. We’ve worked very hard to find galleries and to provide links to websites and all social media that we can find. Our research shows that the galleries have Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts and we have provided links when we find them.
We will be adding video searches to some galleries who may have videos.
The galleries need followers and the artists should follow them just to see the art. Galleries should do the same. It’s one giant come on get with it to the art world. It needs support and links because it’s worthy so we are providing a big one.