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, January 6, 2019

The All American Dream

Color Riot 32,5 x 20,5 cm acrylic on raw linen canvas

                                                                                         For Karin

We used to smoke weed on the roof at work.
Nobody wore hoodies, no hats, not
even when “scoring” in those pre-legal days.
No smart phones, Netflix, no hipsters.
Below us 80 or so bored co-workers willing
the clock to move faster. Young, all we wanted
to do was get high and make out, read important books,
say things we thought were smart. Each of us
was almost something else. I was almost a poet. You were
almost a painter. Our buddy Holt was almost Hemingway.
Mac who wasn’t a close friend but almost funny
said things like, “I’m as queer as a football
bat,” then let out a rebel yell. He was from Mississippi,
which explained his gift for metaphor. I was almost jealous.
There was another guy who when on the phone
always said, “my name’s Cap. Like baseball cap.”
And that was about it from Cap, except once on the roof
when I was holding forth on the Pointlessness of Life and an
earthquake hit. Cap was off in a corner eating his daily bagel.
The building shrugged its shoulders. Slowly. Cap appeared calm,
even a little bored, as if he’d been listening to
my peroration on existential dread. “Don’t worry,”
he commented in a deep, hollow, accidently cynical
voice, “it’ll be over before you know it.” 

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