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, December 7, 2014


Before you see art, read poetry and listen to music we would like to point out a link which explains very comprehensively the new rules on Facebook with regard to their pages. This is very important for artists marketing their art on their Facebook-pages. It seems that it might not be a good idea to promote other artists, yourself of course as well as ask others to like your page - which I personally find a bit iffy anyway.....

The English artist and blogger Katherine Tyrrell wrote extensively about these changes and for all of you who happen to have a Facebook page it might be a good idea to look at her post.

You will be able to find it here: Making a Mark

Zusammenkunft - Crucible 50 x 40 cm

                                                        Meet the new boss/same as the old boss.
                                                                                                                           Pete Townshend

Hand grenade rolling toward a bespectacled
junior officer’s “hootch,” Mekong Delta, circa ’68,
   going off when said officer emerges through the flaps
   yawning, stretching
sending pieces of him flying,
   private whomever executed at Leavenworth
for “fragging” his platoon leader, or further back  
second century slave revolt in Sicily, thousands nailed to crosses
on the road to Syracuse, i.e., the man 
   who lives in the “big house” always wins
and yet some hard hat in Richmond, C.A.
   hears a warm splashing sound in the bathroom
that has him squeezing his crotch in anticipation, “Baby,
   that you?” she asks through the steam, so enjoy
Scranton, what’s left of it, Pittsburgh, Detroit, Cleveland, Green Bay,
   the low
   ceilinged dwellings edging around the county dump, seagulls diving,
the way mansions edge around a country club’s 9 holes,
odors informing every stratagem of escape, a six of “Talls”
   an ounce of Mexican a little dab of crystal meth
for those sans strategy, the grandiosities of wrestling on TV, how workers
   and ball players look pretty much the same, broken down and gimpy
by the time they hit—smash into—50, and take the
fall, the punch, the bullet, proudly stoic
yeomanly as they get, and when somebody asks you
   how you’re doing, just shrug
and say “workin’” which means you’re fortunate to have work,
   so enjoy that warm sound of splashing in the bathroom,  
cowboy, inspiring hope that your girlfriend has you on
   her list of things to do today. There’s reefer on the nightstand
and a song out there you have to hear this second or
   life won’t seem worth living anymore.   

  The Who - Won't get fooled again

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