Fall Additions to Spinozablue, and More Paintings

Fawn at Noon, by Douglas Pinson. Digital painting, 2022.

Spinozablue welcomes new poetry from James Croal Jackson, Mitch Corber, and Howie Good, plus new fiction by David M. Rubin.

If you’d like to submit your own work, please go to the Submissions Page, and fill out the contact form as per instructions. You can bypass that form once we’ve made First Contact . . .

I recently experimented with horizontal usage of the Waterpaint Soft Edges brush from Krita. Had been using it primarily in a vertical way. I like the results. As before, using the brush(es) freehand, trying to incorporate more color selections and different textures to augment the background.…

Howie Good: Being Me

Being Me

There’s bad shit going on. Supply chain problems are said to be to blame. Often one has to make things oneself in order to have or see them. Just ask meth cooks what that means. I’ve been following a long, confusing route, down streets that twist and turn like Nietzsche’s enigmatic aphorisms and then in and out of rooms where people repeat phrases in the mindless manner of a talking doll: “Thank you,” “I love you,” “Awesome!” It’s all part of the inconvenience of being me, father of orphans and foster children, inventor of the fingerprint smudges on touch screens.…

Summer Posts and Further Artistic Experiments

Spinozablue has recently added some poetry by Howie Good and Alessio Zanelli, the latter joining his fellow Italian, Gabriella Garofalo, from June.

Continuing experiments with Krita brushes, most recently playing around with some of its filters as well. One, in particular, adds a nice brush effect to the whole. It’s called “brushify,” strangely enough. I’m still doing free hand, 99% of the time, with a combination of the mouse and digital pen, but venturing a bit into the post-painting world of filters. Not going back on my rules regarding limits. If I can’t reproduce the effect in the real world, I won’t do it with software.…

An Evening Walk with Howie Good


Ninety-Nine Times Out of a Hundred

1
Have you ever been in the shower when there was an earthquake? Dated a relative by accident? Wanted to eat toothpaste? Ripped off your pants while dancing? Been unable to recognize your own reflection in the mirror or differentiate between faces and objects? It’s like walking into a hallucination without being quite sure whose it is. I kind of wish Baudelaire were alive to see it. Under the turmoil of a violet gray sky, there’s a fire made of people.

2
When I complained of crippling back pain, the doctor just said that was what it was like to be a person in this world.…

Unchained Heart

Panther, by CBurnett

 

Spinozablue’s August edition features a new film by Shabnam Piryaei, art by Mark Zlomislic, fiction by E.K. Smith, and poetry by Valentina Cano and Howie Good.

 

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 The story of Cuchulain has me thinking about panthers. Black panthers. Not because they appear in the myths. As far as I remember, none do. Nor do we see lions, leopards or tigers.

Panthers are relatively small and powerful, sleek, taut and coiled, and they explode from what looks deceptively like a relaxed state. They look at ease, always, until they pounce. And then they just look .…

Howie Good: Five in the Morning

 

FIVE IN THE MORNING

 

As I lie sleepless in the semidarkness,
birds warm up their voices, & it occurs to me
that only birds know what birds are saying,
just as only you know how to make me crackle
& roar like the burning lab of a mad scientist.

 

 

 

THE SUICIDE PROJECT

1
Everyone
who knew you
knew you
loved guns,

& when
you pressed
the nickel-
plated barrel
of a favorite
under your chin,

the winos
drinking
in the shadows
of the park
stumbled,

& a bee
zoomed up
from the depths
of a flower,

a striped
spaceship
escaping
the monotonous
gravity
of Earth.…

There is no Difference

Composition VII, by Kandinsky. 1913

New additions to Spinozablue include poems from Kyle Hemmings and Howie Good. Both bring the uncanny and the marvelous to the fore in unique ways. Two things sorely lacking in Art, to our great sadness.

 

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A few days ago I mused about The Other and difference. The foreignness of things, of certain subjects for Art, of their magnetism. In a sense, that could be a sign of my backsliding from the Zennish path, because Zen teaches the overcoming, the transcendence of difference. It teaches mastery over the process of discrimination and segregation, two of our biggest delusions:

That we are essentially different from one another.…

Howie Good: Ennui

 

PROSTHETIC DREAMS

 

A bird I can’t identify by its red markings visits me, holding a playing card in its beak. I feel elated to finally be remembered. But when I grab for the card, the bird darts away.

Come back, I yell, and the bird does. I realize then that its markings are actually splashes of paint or maybe even blood. The shock wakes me up.

I once took thirteen years to write a poem, if you count the mass of scar tissue that throbs in our dreams.

 

 

ENNUI

 

Sometimes we talk like characters in the kind of indie film nobody goes to see.…

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