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, October 26, 2014

States of Mind

Herbstbusch - Autumn Bush 50 x 60 cm Acryl/Oilsticks/Oilpastel


We’re not even airborne yet
and they offer us a sedative—a mix
of white wine and carbonated water.
Eighty-three passengers are pretending 
they don’t have to burp,
whispering excuse me every 20 seconds
through tightly clenched fists. Please
raise that plastic shutter, thank you, and while you’re
at it could you give me a massage? Absolutely nothing
would agree with me more right now 
than a strong shot of uncomplicated pleasure
and as fast as possible. Such was Thailand.
On the beach. A roofless palm-thatched hut.
Slicked with coconut oil and pulled up to
heaven by the shaft of life. Amen. And now?
There’s a lump in my throat, and it’s difficult to swallow
air, saliva, anything. Just sit back and feel free, a voice advises, 
to feel the snake of feeling that coils around your neck
till you can’t breathe anymore, till you can’t even tell
you’re not breathing anymore, till some exhausted intern
in an understaffed urban emergency room
pronounces me dead, and who, when he turns his
slump-shouldered back, I give the slip
and live to die another day. Numbers call us to air.
Distractions: behind every smile—plots, puzzles,
a tiny nest of deceit. Believe nothing. The girl who
spills her wine spritzer in your lap? She smiles; but instead
of paranoia—a vicious plot to get you wet, or mere accident?—
in your heart
there wells up a great wave of peace,
plenitude and delusion. Believe everything. Shit, why not?
And we’re not even airborne yet. 

One - Aimee Mann

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