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Tag: Art

Honor in our dreams

Honor in our dreams

More paintings, more departures. Utilizing a digital knife for blending, and a steel wool effect in some cases. Imagining all of this on massive canvasses, propped up on giant easels, in one of a dozen rooms in my ancient castle by the sea. Thick walls, high ceilings, stone floors — sun and moon seeping in from on high. And mead. Lots of mead. Castles fill my mind often, but the most recent trigger was seeing two films: The Last Duel,…

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New poetry, paintings, Coda, and Camus

New poetry, paintings, Coda, and Camus

Spinozablue welcomes new poetry by John Grey, Nanette Avery, and D.R. James. Rereading some good books about Camus and his times, which strike me as highly relevant again. Robert Zaretsky’s Elements of a Life, and Alice Kaplan’s Looking for the Stranger, with more on my To Be Read shelf, including The Plague. His refusal to follow the prevailing winds, his courage under direct and indirect fire, his impassioned moral compass — we could use all of that right now. Perhaps it…

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New Year Paintings and Poetry

New Year Paintings and Poetry

So, another year, another variant, and we trudge on across the tundra. Courage, creativity, and, yes, peace, love, and understanding are needed now more than . . . Well, they’re needed. In that spirit of hopeful trudging, Spinozablue offers new literature, literary criticism, and home-brewed paintings. Robert Mueller brings us his unique take on Petrarch, and David Groulx gets obliquely iambic. It looks like we’re off to a solid start. I had a stretch there with at least two kinds…

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The Marketeer’s Lament

The Marketeer’s Lament

The lies The lies they spread Have become their truth      I know the pain of such things As I once stood among them Bleeding out Spiraling out      Trying to fathom What once was mine Failing to grow back To the center      Yes — the center of all things Too much to handle so I’m gone For now and always Unless      Unless the last tree Stands against the last wind And there is more time For Sapiens…

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Bedazzled Humans, Dark City, and New Paintings

Bedazzled Humans, Dark City, and New Paintings

Just watched “Dark City” again, one of my favorite movies, ever. It’s been a while since my last viewing. More than a decade, in fact. Unfortunately, the version I watched wasn’t the remastered DVD version I had seen back in 2009, which had provoked this review in Spinozablue many moons ago. It was still excellent, but just not as amazing as the extended version. It moved me, and reminded me that we’re creatures of the light, whether we live in…

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Night Sweats on the Chaise Longue

Night Sweats on the Chaise Longue

A thought or two on some recent music. One relatively new song, “Chaise Longue,” from June of this year, and another, “S.O.B,” from 2015. Wildly divergent genres, eliciting wildly divergent reactions. Couldn’t be more different, I suppose. Wet Leg is a band from the Isle of Wight, headed by Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, names seemingly taken from a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel. The music they make? Not so much. More like something out of Boris Vian, by way of Sally…

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The Transitory Nature of Envy

The Transitory Nature of Envy

  Jealousy II I’m jealous of Jimmy Stewart’s time With Kim Novak in Vertigo Looking at her looking at him Through all the doubling of characters Hitchcock and Freud Judy and Madeleine The dated dynamics The bald confessionals It would have been something To have rescued her from the Bay And then the Set And then the downward spirals I’m jealous of Zhivago’s time with Julie Christie And Sharif’s time with Lara Not so much because their love Nearly froze…

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The Disruption of New Music in the Age of Covid

The Disruption of New Music in the Age of Covid

New music, as a concept, has taken a bit of a hit lately. As in, it’s not all that apparent any longer when that label should be attached to a song, a record, a musician’s work, or when it needs to be qualified with lengthy explanatory notes to nowhere and fools on the hill. Because of the pandemic, and the relentless uncertainties attached, more and more musicians seem to be “dropping” their singles months before their albums, and may miss…

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New paintings, and further thoughts on “things.”

New paintings, and further thoughts on “things.”

I have an issue with things. There are far too many of them. We have things everywhere, inside and out, up and down, sometimes upside down and rarely right-side up when we need them to be. Rarely what’s needed, though. Rarely what is most useful. Almost always what’s imminently disposable, replaceable, land-fillable. Too much, too often, too close, and not far enough away, by any means. Away with things! So how did this happen, this being overwhelmed by “stuff”? Long,…

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To the Ancient Seaside, Again and Again

To the Ancient Seaside, Again and Again

More experiments with various brushes and their effects, and more departures. I’m closer. Closer to visions of renewal and release I once had — nearly on call. Closer to their full return. The sea is inside us all. Can a person claim that it’s more a part of them than others? And does that matter? We can make that claim, certainly. Accuracy aside, it’s not really anything that needs evidence. For the ocean within, our DNA tracings, our narrative poems,…

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