In this blog we will share with you our vision of beauty, balance, harmony.

As Mark Leach writes in his book Raw Colour with Pastels: “Sound is all around us, and it is musicians who refine that sound into something of beauty. As a painter, I have always felt that my purpose is to craft colour in a similar way, to see through the confusion and seek harmony and beauty.”

And we add: Words, fragments of sentences, spoken noise is all around us, and Ken arranges words in such a way as to capture beauty in the accidental, the ambient soundtrack of life.

Friday, March 29, 2013

And now for something completely different

Wucherung - Growth 50 x 40 cm


The corner of a tarpaulin torn free by the wind.
A coastline of toothy fractals along which   
our dreams are assessed by a man with a tidy beard.
The fact that we know who made us and why. Our certainty, its thorns.

If only nerves could be covered by indestructible  
implants fashioned from a substance not subject
to import duties. Think of the turnover. Think of the
corner of a tarpaulin torn free by the wind, and what’s hiding beneath it.

Meanwhile a gorgeous volcano
is on the verge of eruption: Mina Filona, the
precocious virtuoso: her tantrum
midst the tangle of a cumbersome fugue.

And the commentator, crawling out from
beneath the wind-torn tarpaulin, says
” Nothing will ever be the same again.”

The Rite of Spring - Stravinsky
San Francisco Symphony Orchestra
conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas

Sunday, March 24, 2013

You better look twice. Is everything what it seems?

Regentag in Kyoto - Rainy Day in Kyoto 48,5 x 58,5 cm


The valleys here are beautiful, with their oak tree 
lined roads, the glistening vineyards, the vintage  
Victorian “cottages,”  some painted pink, some purple,
others lilac or pumpkin orange, with their gingerbread  
turrets and wrap-around porches and curlicues and furbelows
and architectural shrubbery. Any trained sensibility balks at the    
excesses of those who like it cute. And it is true that everything matches
and almost nothing fits—if you look too closely—like any arti-
fact of perfection—a Matisse, say, or a Vermeer—and even  
the powerful, seductive, possibly life-altering pleasure
in that first mouthful of a really good Napa-Sonoma cab sauv
can lead one to an artificial paradise. Interpretation(of dreams
or of sensation)doesn’t interest the profoundly superficial natives,
not really, it’s the swirl of colors in the glass that matters, that inexorable
undertow into a pool of smoky warmth and calculated elegance
and our moving away from it at the same time, a waking up,
as it were, to the realization that every year is as good as the next.*

*One of the complaints about the very best Californian Cabernet Sauvignons
is that—due to a stable climate, ideal soil conditions, and cutting-edge crafts-
manship—every year’s vintage is as superb as the last. Which is not considered as
interesting for the aficionado(or the market)as the bad year/good  year distinction.  

Dave Brubeck - Laura

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Big Lemon

Große Zitronen - Big Lemons 23 x 30 cm


Because I am best able to utilize
the power of speech over a wide range of media.
I’ve never inhaled. I’ve never had sex with a woman
under my protection. Who has inhaled.
Because God wants me to.
I would not hesitate to use nuclear weapons.
I don’t drink, smoke, fight, and if I chewed snuff
I’d only spit in an empty coke can, never on the street.
I probably wouldn’t use nuclear weapons.
Do I speak French? I’ve never set foot in a foreign country,
including  Northern California. I definitely don’t speak French.
It was a hung jury. I have no hang ups. Technically I’m innocent.
I think drones in the air are cheaper than boots on the ground.
I am not handsome nor ugly nor short nor tall, and I’m 
neither intelligent nor stupid. In brief, I am defined by what I am not.
Under no circumstances would I utter the word “motherfucker.”
Drugs have a problem with us. Guns don’t shoot communists, patriots do.
I think boots on the ground are more discerning than drones in the air.
I’d abolish the legislative and the judicial branches,
    and …um…what’s the third one?
Because I’m just the kind of person I would like to have a beer with.

 Prokofiev - Romeo and Juliet
Opéra National Paris - Nurejev

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Untitled Orchard

Hain - Orchard 28,5 x 38,5 cm


Relatively coherent streams of thought
interrupted by a reluctant encounter
with the telephone: another day of distractions
inaugurated this time by a marketing survey.
Later, I’d swear that the man on one knee
on the balcony opposite my kitchen window
is not tying a shoe lace but making an offer of marriage
to some girl standing in the shadows, and I think she’s
smoking something, and he looking up at her as if she were
a fresco on the ceiling of paradise so lovely it’s almost
unbearable to behold, and there’s this bluesy trumpet intro by Miles Davis
prowling around in the back courtyard
like the ultimate cool cat himself, the main man
in an Italian suit and sunglasses, and I have the feeling that it’s
1956 all over again. Which can’t be right. So I put a small pot of water on to boil 
and try to figure out what I should
do next. The British would make tea,
the hungry boil an egg. I decide to let
the water cook till “I Wants to Stay Here” kicks in,
then propose marriage to the evening who’s 
slouching towards me right now, darkening, and faintly perfumed
by two damp poplars and a blossoming lime-tree. I won’t get
on my knees for anyone. That’s way too Jane Austen. But it sure is getting hot. 

 Miles Davis - Generique