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, September 13, 2015

Les Fleurs du Mal

Les Fleurs du Mal 80 x 80 cm acryl/gesso on linen canvas - available -


My adventures in pleasure began
with twenty-four jars of baby food a day.
Grew so large I couldn’t move anymore,
dwarf whale stranded in its playpen. Since then there’s  
vintage Medoc, Lamb chops sprinkled with rosemary
and olive oil, lingerie photo spreads, the prose of Ben Lerner,
“the isles of Greece, the isles of Greece, “ und so weiter.
I’ve enjoyed life too much to deserve a career. Pleasure 
is even available to the guy who sleeps beneath 
the same tree in the park each night, smoking a self-rolled,    
inhaling so deeply there’s nothing left to exhale. Enjoyment as   
animal right, maybe, but even Epicurus thought we have
a problem with pleasure, the more we get
the more we want, and it’s never enough. Take Don Draper in “Mad Men”
fucking every woman who’s half-way willing, most
of whom quite a bit more than half-way,
yet whose unhappiness is a multiplex of many screens.
Raised in a whore house which, seen loosely, is
his version of twenty-four jars of baby food a day.
Bring ‘em on—willing women, lamb chops, etc.— as “W”
disastrously put it. On “The West Wing” someone says, a little too
sonorously, “I serve at the pleasure of the President.” Which
sounds about as enticing as a long weekend in Detroit, in winter, alone.


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