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.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Save me

Sils Maria 60 x 50 cm acryl/oil pastel on canvas c/o Karin Goeppert


                                           “Which way I fly is hell…”

I always thought murder
would be your fate.
Not the serial sort, but rooted
in animal rage. Pitching
legendary fits on your parents’
front lawn, weeping,
facing the crime scene you grew up in.
Fists clenched, arms at your sides,
walking in place, cursing your father’s transgressions.
We only found out later what
he’d been doing to your sisters.
A time of drought and baseball in the street.
Kids waiting for the ice-cream truck.
Barbecue smoke drifting over back fences.
Then you would explode out the front door.
People stood on their porches
as if a parade, all its floats on fire, were passing by.
I almost expected hesitant applause.
Sartre called self-murder an act of bad faith.
Certain experts
in the human condition
claim that it’s a coward’s last act;
others see it as a final
gesture of self-indulgence
(amazing what an array of shallow
fuckwits can come up with) as
as if suicide were an orgy
in an opium den—but what if
stepping out the front door
were the equivalent of soaking
your nerves in acid? What if
traffic signals
issued intolerable
commands? What if the last time
you made love to a woman
she ran a credit check before undressing?
What if the only possibility
to rest easy,
in the end, was never to wake up?

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