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, June 26, 2016

Three Fates

Nigella 60 x 50 cm acryl on canvas


A woman speaks French
to her husband then slaps his face.

He understands nothing. How do you reason
with hurricanes, the fury of natural calamity?

Their three sons grow up strange in a handful
of provincial cities. They move out. One is

barely employed; a stalled novelist who keeps writing
or half-writing the same story: a large

peasant woman in garden clogs storms into a rustic kitchen
angry about something no male in the family can fathom.

Soup dribbles down Papa’s unshaven chin, he stutters—
and that’s as far as it goes. A novel about inarticulate fear?

The occasional obscurity of rage? Okay, his girlfriend asks,
what about the plot, conflict, point of fucking view? WHAT

a flamenco artiste at a casino in Atlantic City, is secretly

vain about his ass; Jean, the third and youngest brother, is a
pipe fitter in Toledo, Spain, and has backed into a passion

for gothic cathedrals, wondering what plumbing was like back then.
One day they return home to mother, whose hand’s still aching

from twenty-years back, her French as opaque as ever. On the occasion 
of her death she leaves each of her sons an extremely long, gorgeous

knitted scarf, her life’s work. They wear the scarves
everywhere. Until they start to choke. Then they understand. 


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