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, March 20, 2016

You got mud on your Face

You got mud on your Face 56 x 42 cm acryl on paper by Karin Goeppert


A day of wandering thoughts; the next  
one not a thought per se
but a dream of old Europe 
shot in the supple light of a Zeffirelli romance,

a little kitschy, I admit, but there’s
—don’t ask me why—a baroque
component as well: counterpoint, fetishistic wigs,
a maze of etiquette turning me into a

brocaded moralist: J.S. Bach in the organ loft
while Ludwig the Upteenth
has his way with a slightly damp chamber maid.
But right this instant, half past seven in Kreuzberg,

Berlin, a gang of fiddlers on the side-walk, sounding
like Serbian gypsies out to hustle the al fresco 
fork and knife crowd, those eaters of Italian desserts
who think maybe they’ve achieved happiness
for once and hope it will stick around at least until coffee—
that’s how it’s apportioned, happiness, in mouthfuls and sips,

the weather about to change, and the music
moving indoors, where it belongs anyway,
where we belong, but not always,
nature calling sometimes
even when we need her. 

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Adventure Trip

Tumbling Dice (Adventure Trip Series) 56 x 42 cm mixed media on canvas by Karin Goeppert


Glass tower, castle
holding pattern riveted
to sky, dominant, cock
like in which a cohort of courtiers
crunched by numbers, drunk on work
glances ceiling-ward as if sixth  
century monks wondering what God is 
up to in His corner office. Down the street
and tucked deeper than you can take  
in between wedges of sushi and 
designer doodads a delightfully 
frigid martini attached to a girl’s hand
sweats. A bar of soap smells like sex
and the squash court is essence of fake musk
a headhunter’s gooey patter the patois
on toast today. “You’re toast, sucker.”
Stuck in the middle of traffic far as the eye   
can detect is red. Green is not the color of money
by the wayward. Green does not mean Go
at all: get a new passport, hopscotch over to Mexico
and from there on to parts less known: that’s what it means.
Better: unless you have jail in mind don’t do it
bro lest the chopping block be thy head’s final rest.  

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Period Piece

CF 1 40 x 30 cm acryl on canvas


The merely random doesn’t interest us anymore.
Like a Hollywood actress, its measurements never stay the same.
We’re thinking, in the short term anyway, of using fractals.

Who doesn’t feel like doing something timeless for a change?
Ride in a hay wagon rumbling through flowering countryside
and a surprise
for I think I do see Tess Of The D’Urbervilles
pinned to a lean-to 
by a savage relation.
I’d like to rescue her. But as fate
would have it—this is Thomas Hardy—
all we can do is wave goodbye.

A  middle-aged artist of trembling “equanimity amid uncertainty”
dares to mix paints on his teenaged wife’s convulsive belly.

I’d cast a younger Natalie Portman as the young wife/model.
And a much, much younger Nick Nolte as the artist. But that’s impossible
so forget I mentioned it.

Like a butterfly of rare beauty,
a soft fluffy moth, she opens her bodice. Screen test.

I despair that we’ll e’er find fractals for those
   lovely, lovely…

…a sound of brocade, lots of brocade,
ripping on the roses in our uncle’s garden.

What exactly do you mean by “negative capability?”

And where are the spider monkeys
uncle Albert brought back with him from Tanzania?
They are strangely beautiful, and possessed of a rare grace
that gives me much comfort in these troubled times.