Tag Archive: mixed media


three sisters

The world is a dream.
We don’t exist, we only think we do.
So what difference does it make?
(from Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov, Act 4)

unbearable lightness of longing

Honoré de Balzac wrote “an unfulfilled vocation drains the color from man’s entire existence.”  I think an unfulfilled dream has the tendency to do quite the same. So it was difficult to add color to my three sisters. My Olga, Irina, and Masha. They are comparable to Chekhov’s Three Sisters and a bit like the three Brontë sisters. However, these three sisters in search of fulfillment and fecundity in ultra modern times (or is it post-modern or post-post modern times) are all mine. In what way are my three sisters related to those of Chekhov and Brontë? Their dreams, hopes, longings, and passions are the forces that also govern their lives. Can you see? See. They are all tangled up in their potent passions and emotions. Dance, dance, dance through the unbearable lightness of longings. Dance, dance, dance through the unfulfilled portions of life. “If we only knew… If we only knew.” (Olga)

keep walking

Keep walking,

Though there is no place to get to.

Don’t try to see through the distances.

That’s not for human beings.

Move within,

But don’t move

The way fear makes you move.

~ Rumi ~

Kallisti Muse lives in a cavern beneath the Aegean Sea

Poetry by Kate58

although dimly lit
the cavern rings with sound
& her creative urges flourish
in this dwelling underground

she delights in company
yet is happy to live alone
in splendid isolation
in this cavern made of stone

in the cavern of Kallisti Muse
stalagmites shine in riotous hues
& nobody has the blues
in the cavern of Kallisti Muse

just outside the cavern
is a swift-running stream
where she catches the fishes that she eats
who’ve seen their deaths in a dream

it’s here she lives in secret
happy against all the odds
transcribing her thoughts on yellowed scrolls
propitiation to the gods

in the cavern of Kallisti Muse
you must show proof you’ve paid your dues
& after that you’re welcome to do as you choose
in the cavern of Kallisti Muse

~~~
For more of Kate58’s Kallisti Muse poems and poetry
please visit her blog  Poetry and Persistance
Thank you, Kate, for inspiring.

Goethe

XXIV

“But since the end of all poetic art

Is the improvement of the reader’s mind

(Or so we’re told), my verses for their part

Shall point the usual moral of their kind:

This life’s a crazy journey, and our heart

May stumble, but two mighty powers, we’ll find,

Can move the world and help us as we go:

To Duty much, to Love far more we owe.

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [The Diary]


thought of you

fields of gold

deep in my heart

I become what the song is

fields of gold :: eva cassidy 

mixed media on wood

29 x 42 cm

opus 69

from the book my soul is writing…

Waltz Op. 69 No. 1 Chopin

Frédéric François Chopin ::

the poet of the piano

mixed media on wood

42 x 29 cm

“Words are for meaning: when you’ve got the meaning, you can forget the words”

~ Zhuangzi~

But, Zhuangzi, certain words are meant for remembrance. They rest upon my soul, hover over my spirit, and enter into the chrysalis part of my heart.

There, where black ink transforms into white butterflies I become an Athena. I wear words like an ancient and ageless aegis. My body will tell you how the butterflies quietly return and always revisit with secret silent melodies for my temple of reflections.

White wings fly. White wings float. When I’ve got the meaning that is when I cannot forget the words.

Butterflies, Zhuangzi. White butterflies changing colours like in a dream.

I don’t write poetry when I wish, I write when I can’t,

when my larynx is flooded and my throat is shut.

~ Anna Kamieńska ~

 

Inside my womb     I hear voices crying     yours – mine – ours     execrable sounds

exterminate – irradicate – annihilate – mutilate – liquidate – deface – butcher – extinguish – terror

I turned my attention to – our vocabulary – flooded with words to crystalise only one word:

HATRED

 

black – white – yellow deaths – a child screams – a blood stream of images –

we are the problem of our own humanity

 

what am I here for?

to create art and worship poetry?

to make love to love?

to dream the Great Dream inside a dream?

to infect you with a smile?

to whisper to the sea my endless tales of human sufferings?

 

I no longer pray  – I scream – howl – cry

for a solution to the problems of humanity

 

– fiercely –

I wonder about our self-understandings

our essential sensibilities

our capacity to create and then to destroy

EVERYTHING

 

inside my womb I hear voices crying

for peace to illuminate every person,

cell, vein, artery,

for wars to end for the sake of our

children’s children – our children – ourselves

and ~ for my knowing what to live for.

 

 

image 1: inside my womb [mixed media on wood]

image 2: execrable sounds [digital dialectics]

pas de deux ~ deux fois

My postcard size mixed media collages for the upcoming #twitterartexhibit in Moss, Norway for charity. This is an exciting art exhibit and a great fundraising event initiated by artist David Sandum also on twitter.