A quiet hello said low in the morning
A genuine effort: welcome, Newcomer
a home, a life, some food & some funding
Solid company that brings us together
the alluring, the shy, the quick and the funny
a love that binds us stronger than tethers
A mouth that is mellow and slower than honey
with lips that procure, that swell and are hungry
the sounds of kisses, the battles of loving
openness of spirit, red frames for the lonely
Silence and solitude
One is the host, one is the guest
A kind of company that is loneliness
Steal a still room to quieten one’s breast
To appease and deny, to push and to press
Stage 1: great afflictions saturate the stomach.
Stage 2: the heart empties once the task is completed.
Stage 3: dailiness finally fills the veins.
Posted in Arts, Images/Words
Tagged art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, contemporary art, female artists, Installations, Literature, sculpture, Tatiana Blass, Thoughts, Words/Images
The age of a habit is not determined by the speed of its death.
It is the availability of new interests that cause its decay.
And interests can emerge, be reborn and die again.
Phase 01 of the project of a new life is almost complete
Desperate times due to disparate thoughts
Silence can feed as easily as it can make you falter
And if you nourish a hope on muteness, the heart is swiftly quietened
Quiet, cold and silent is a life no longer vibrant
When saying what you want without waiting for your words to wane, beware.
You may deem you are wallowing in straightforwardness, but your curly tongue won’t get you anywhere.
One, two, three: now look within.
Fickle and fragile and febrile and foolish
After so many years of self-awareness
Why do innver moves still force the surface out of focus?
Sighing: self-inflicted pain is the only one to let go
Night Street Touch takes a simple repetitive action and makes it the subject of the work. (…) the act of touching whatever is in the viewfinder is repeated making a closed loop between subject and action. The touching of these objects, surfaces and places is simple yet gains a psychological dimension, as if the action cannot be escaped from.
So abysmal and yet so palpable the impression of being unable to escape one’s own exploits and their psychological repercussions. But to touch is to feel, and acting is living through contact.
Even when one does not own up to one’s actions.
When silence is self-imposed, it enriches illusions and cleanses sullen thoughts, whilst its infliction by others causes anger to pass but an insisting deception to grow.
To accept what is given without proper pondering and careful consideration; what a sluggish pace to face the stream.
Will our solitariness ever lift, or is the life of the mind its own reward?
J.M. COETZEE, Youth.
Posted in Arts, Painting
Tagged art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, female artists, J.M. Coetzee, Literature, Mariannita Luzzati, painting, Words of Others
My Expired Photographs are all about the effect of time and how the traces left behind by the past shape and influence the world around us today.
– Neil Atherton –