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, April 15, 2018

Black Rain



Spring Sessions III 50 x 70 cm acrylic/spraypaint on paper






BLACK RAIN (PERSEPHONE)

Black rain drilling little holes
clean through self-esteem on this
totally fucked January twilit
day making us feel at least                                 
50 % dumber and uglier than we
do in summer. Half the world is online, the
other half dreaming of the right content—  
it might be naked wet bodies smacking
into each other, or tea ceremony demo
by a Japanese monk. Lady de Winter
offers you a toxic joint. You refuse but
sadly, with reluctance, a touch resentful
of your own rejection of reckless liberty. Has courage   
shriveled up and crawled back to its itsy-bitsy cubicle
or is sound judgement making a half-assed comeback?
And how much of this means anything
or fits in the plan as such? There is
one crucial indisputable but subliminal
suspicion: that no one, anywhere, at anytime
gives a damn if Earth’s daughter returns or not.
It’s as if my physician, shaking his head, says
I have great news for you, Kenneth, but I couldn’t care less.




Sunday, April 8, 2018

Spring Sessions




Spring Sessions II 50 x 70 cm mixed media on craft paper




ASSESSING THREAT LEVELS

The air is thinner than expected.
But the views are a spectacle.

How we got this high is a secret.
Some information is better left unshared.

Everyone’s eyes seem peeled for the other.
All the floors are carpeted. The wallpaper has stories.

Wagon wheels, cacti, Indian warriors and their
taciturn squaws. The quintessential medicine

man in a child’s room. Muse of chaos his wife.
Muse of chaos? I think it was the medicine

made me say that. I’m not sure that would
play well at a dinner party in midtown

Manhattan or even Brooklyn. And the suburbs
would look on dumbfounded. I’m more or less convinced

our neighbors wouldn’t want us here. People being suspicious.
Their eyes always peeled. Suspicious or

totally indifferent. Sometimes I’d prefer suspicious. At least
someone’s paying attention then. These days people
are so many things. Whatever these days are. You peel them
like every other one. Then wait for the water to boil

suspiciously. Not too much information please. Not here. Not now.