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.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Vintage Jazz

Rote Bäume - Red Trees 28,5 x 38,5 cm

Firenze - Florenz - Florence c/o Karin Goeppert





PILGRIMAGE

They are lined up in a traffic jam
where the border used to be, an army
in retreat, trunks of sedans, backs of
station wagons, open donkey carts,
wheelbarrows, rusty forklifts, loaded with cases of
Chianti, Bardolino, Frascati, Brunello di Montalcino,
schnapps from South Tyrol, Prosecco from Vicenza.
Liquid for lucubrations, fodder for midnight bull sessions.
We are talking the language of ecstasy—nose, tannins,  
hints of vanilla, suggestion of smoky nightfall. Life
   stretching out before us
like sunset over the vines of Languedoc, of Tuscany,
staining the slopes of Kaiserstuhl a dusky pink. A local   
wine merchant, half charlatan, half priest, half inebriated,
one who says fuck retsina, man, spurn vinho verde, avoid
anything Austrian, pours a Pinot Noir from the Napa Valley, a Cab  
Sauv from the African cape. Nothing is sacred, a Frenchman might  
mutter. But there’s a raspy, deep-felt “amen” over by the dark  
hued Zinfandels, the sassy blond Chardonnays. A sob of gratitude.  



And what goes better with wine than some jazz?



Jeff Beck and Tal Wilkenfeld
Crossroads Festival 2007

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