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, November 29, 2015

Kim Kardashian's Ass

Ebbe (Diptychon) - Low Tide (Diptych) 90 x 30 cm acrylic/spray paint/ink on canvas


A thief put a knife
to my throat and said
give me everything you got.
I emptied my pockets and out fell a volume of Shakespeare.
Then some essays by Schopenhauer.
He stabbed me, I think, not so much
for my taste in reading matter
as for the all too voluminous proof
that I read at all. Read too much.
Read as if in defiance of the world, its lousy zero-sum options.
The wound wasn’t as deep as the Grand Canyon
nor as broad as Kim Kardashian’s ass
but look for me tomorrow and you will find
this promiscuous reader and epicurean
anarchist, and all that that entails,
in a world of pain.
To say how much we know
is to admit nothing
but we do know someone’s coming for us  
in the Swedish dark coming fast
and nobody seems to know when
and we never know why, just as we never know
why good fish tastes like chicken, but there you are
or why I am standing on a sidewalk
in what appears to be Dallas, Texas
at four in the morning a knife sticking out of me. But here I am.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

La Mer

Maritim - Maritime 80 x 80 cm acryl/oilpastel/spraypaint on canvas by Karin Goeppert


There you are being pushed
   along the coastal path
by an eighty-mile an hour wind,
mouth hurting from smiling so hard.
Your spirit, escaping, races around
   like a balloon cut loose
at a child’s birthday party
but remains in your body because
frankly it has nowhere else to go.
On the umbrella pines, which are
leaning away like boxers on the ropes
who want to fight back but cannot,
   is light
the color of good English marmalade.  
The wind is
spitting wads of foam all over
   a disappearing beach. Meanwhile
Just three miles away in an atavistically
   smoky room,
a woman whose smile, without light,
has declared her absence, returns briefly
to show amusement  
   as your sometimes lesser, sometimes better self
shifts groaningly its fat ass from one side
   of a barstool to the other.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Divine Intervention

Morning Walk, Uffing 50 x 70 cm acryl on canvas by Karin Goeppert


If children laugh at you, and dogs bark at your hair,
don’t worry about it: they love you. Who wouldn’t?
And the world is not a shopping mall. It is a garden,
a garden within gardens. Prowling beneath the fronds
are beautiful animals, and we love them hard. And
there are moments. There are still some moments.
Someone I know, a poet of sorts, once told me
he went for a run on the island of Samos.  Up through the olive trees.
Fresh Aegean morning, just before the heat drops
its full weight on your head; the quiet unruffled sea giving off
a beaten golden sheen. Not even vaguely devout, he nevertheless
raises his hands and praises Zeus. Offers thanks for the literally
awesome light and its revelation of gnarled limbs, the writhing trunks
and a Swedish or Danish girl in shorts and t-shirt picking her way
down the path smiling at me as if after a night of love. And for
the goofy little gesture of lifting my palms to the sky I thank you as well.
Would be greedy to ask for more.  Not that that’s ever stopped me.