Naked

            Lovely the forms your your body takes

           I do admit excite me -

           And yet the the shapes that life creates

           Are Platos purist geometry .

Finished my Xmas. Card wood engraving / called - snow- storm ,Merry Xmas .

Late night thoughts .

                  Late night thoughts upon listening to Stavinskys Firebird -What I love about art , and espeacially  theatre,is its intensely " un-real " - Reality .S.T. Coleridge called this ,famously "The suspension of disbelieve ".

Oil painting made in Abingdon Berkshire entitled " The Poplars " 1966 .During that time ,I lived next door to this group of houses, And I was fascinated by the charm of the organic way that they had been built ,set against a very rural landscape I suppose I felt a certain mystery .Im certain that they look very different now !Some loveless bulldozer .

painting upon two plates of glass

And this is Robs moment to be angelic in the Heks (see below ,previous blog )

Detail

Heksagram/ Sketches made over the years in the pub ,the Heks upon free postcards ( some very beautiful ) alas , they seem to have dissapeared !There is a moment in the Heks ( late afternoon ,upon certain days when the light comes in at a certain angle and transforms( almost ) everyone into angels !

Composition

Clay sculpture ( in progress ) and wood engraving on the same theme - entitled Rite London Kennington 1964

Drawings for sculpture entitled Israfel ". In heaven a spirit doth dwell whose heart strings are a lute, non sings so wildly well as the angel Israfel(.Edgar Allan Poe.))

London 1965

White on black- acrylic painting .

The Mermaids pool North Staffordshire ( near to the Roaches -see previous photos ) reputed to be bottomless and of course now and again a strange mermaid like figure is to be seen . Did I see it - why yes of course !

Picnicking by the Roaches in North Staffordshire , with Mum and Dad circa two thousand

Mono prints reclining figures

Water color Dartmoor

Composition. Gauche

Mono print words are a bridge

Written around the time that I attended the talks of the Indian philosopher Vimala Thakar . in 1980

                        Be gentle with the mind -

                        It is your own child ,

                        Yours , yet not yours  -



                   Be loving with the mind ,

                    It is yourself .



                   Be yourself  , in contact

                  With yourself -
 .
                  For seperation is deception.



                What you see , is your own

               Mirrored conciousness,

               The seer , is not seperate  

               From what it sees .


             
             There is no spectator -

             Only the mirror .
 
                                                     

Imagine -

                       We are watching a film of  a city in the ninteenhundreds -  America, or maybe Europe ,between one of the many Wars -People are  milling around ( at high speed ) rather like ants in their nest.
           One wakes up and thinks to himself  " I am acting like an ant I have nothing to contribute individually, I dont really know who I really am .I must escape somehow  .

       Meanwhile in an ants nest,somewhere in the world , one worker , thinks to his little self - " I dont really fit into this system I am behaving just like  a human being I have to escape -




 Both mysteriously disappeared  --

Four water colors of dartmoor

Sketch for landscape sculpture

Sketch for landscape sculptute

Model for landscape sculpture

Model for large landscape sculpture

Industrial landscape

                       From the  small towns station -

                       A single  factory wall -

                               Creates a reverie -

                       A focus of some other reality

                              Another place and time .

                       Colours and textures

                              Upon the wall , 

                      Angle of the roof making 

                      A  mysterious landscape -

                              Over that hill 

                       The skies are dreaming .



                      Walls open - revealing lives 

                       Given and taken  to the oiled 
                       
                       Cogs, chains and                      

                       Rollers- rolling time away -

                                Clock on, clock out .

                       Dial  hands ticking away lost

                                Summer days 

                      In sunlit hills and valleys -
         
                      Only dreams left of week -end nivanas

                            Dirty overalls and dinner -      

                       So much beauty , joy and sadness .
          -

                      

                       Fairies dancing under the hill -

                       Steal heart and soul away .     
                       

                        

                               

Missie translated for Lucas de Vries ,who asked " would it sound as poetic in Nederlands ?

                          Hameren en vormen , woorden en beelden

                           Verschuilen achter de veelvuldigheid

                           Van  dingen .

                           Verwringen zich van de universele geest -

                            Baren zich uit de onvruchtbaarheid,

                           Brengen ze naar deze wereld .

Mission

                      Forge forge the forms and words

                      That hide behind the multitude

                      Of things  -

                      Wrest them from the universal mind

                     Birth them out of barrenness

                     Into the world again .

Idea for three dimensional work - entitled Usk .

The Palace Of Art ( for the late Danny Milne ) Song .

                                         I flew in a dream

              Through  a  green  mandala

               And  in  the centre

               Was the heart of light .



                I saw in a dream

                We made a rainbow palace

                Gate to a green paradise -



               Waves washed the shore-line 

              Songs of eternity .


              I saw in a vision 

              The palace of art

               It was made of blown

             Coloured glass .



             We made the domes

             In the sky

            Where  you could dream

            Of all beauty-

           And they were built upon

           Pillars of gold .


          On one side of the  palace

            The pavilion of pleasure

          And on the other

          The temple of truth 


          And the waves


          Washed between them


           Singing songs of eternity .



           All your life you rapped  

           And sang at the door- 

          Right until the end -

          Until  they allowed you 

          In  -     at last .

Romance

                        Go into a trance

                        Trees blowing cloud blossoms to the wind

                         Feel the romance

                        Of the sun going down 

                        Over the moors at sunset -

                        Glistening particles of your soul

                        In the granite monuments

                        Of your dream

                        As you swoon into knowingness

                         And follow the lines of the world .




                       Go into a trance

                       In the sound of the flute

                       Beside the Holy river 

                       And the lutes echoing

                       In empty courtyards -
                       
                      And the dance of the body 

                      Of the beloved as she 

                       Sways you into vision 
           
                       You are the sacred pages
  
                      Pages of the book-   

                     Containing past and present

                     In the vortex of this moment .




                      Go into a trance

                      Within the dream that cradles you

                      In the romance

                      From birth - and beyond death also -

                      The Eden that holds you 

                      In its totality -protecting your essence

                       Dreaming on and on 

                      In the great imagining -

                     

                       

Calligraphical painting title cymru chinois

Stones dartmoor watercolour

Calligraphical painting

Thought of the day ---

                       My work , is the lyrical gesture of joy that frees me from the tyranny of  the representational world and of conditioned seeing  .

White on black calligraphical

Two calligraphical paintings in acrylic on board and canvas .August 2016

Heart-land

      Every true journey is an allegory and every real journey is a vision quest. Our lives are presented
      in terms and in ways that we are not yet concious of -as for instance in a dream.
            Every traveller has to pass through a gateway or a portal , and must be tested - They may be asked riddles or  have to run the gauntlet , but they will be tested, They must be found worthy of such a journey. Yet when you have been tested, the  gatekeeper will allow you through  and everything will be there to help you , although you will still have challenges !
             After all , the place itself  ( like a magnet ) drew you irrevocably  towards it , although you may have thought in your naivity that you had chosen, just as you may have imagined that you choose your partner, pet , friend or lover !
     
                Lucas and I travelled in WestWales, desiring to fish for sea trout in the river Teife, its waters running into the Irish sea at Cardigan . The weather was bad and so we decided to find a hotel or bed and breakfast . We walked through the side streets of Newcastle - Elmyn (Where I had lived some forty years before and also when  I was seveenteen -all those years ago when I came here for the first time .)The place had always held a speacial place in my imagination and feeling for the spiritual.
              We were near to the gateway to the castle  ,a golden dragon was represented over the gateway .A creature that was killed in the middle ages as one of the last dragons of Wales. We tried to find the information bureau but we were told that we had to go to the historic book shop ,
                      We walked into the shop  and met two old bearded gentlemen  (just  like ourselves! )     The atmosphere was extraordinarely friendly , as if we were expected  or that we knew each other from some far past . We exchanged pleasantries  - joked about things  and asked about lodgings and most important about the fishing

                  We were advised to go to the next village -(Cenarth ) go to the White Hart , drink a beer and go from there  ( I personally found this profound advice !) We  realised that we could have spent more time with the " old gents " but we had little time and much to do !However , at this point in the story , it was begining to dawn on me -that many of the personages that I had met , were all characters in  the story that I had written some years ago .A story about justice and injustice played in the middle- ages Many people were waiting in the pub  for us , and they helped us to find accommodation and helped us with the fishing (.If I had been a film director), I would have cast  many of the people for the film ! ( the film about my story -)



                    Life copies art as art mirrors life as Oscar Wilde and the symbolists observed ----

         And even more mysteriously life and dreams give us symbols and allegories that we cannot totally understand at least --------------
                                 
                                           (    Short  extract from my story entitled The Cauldron)

      Lucius(  after cantering down the hill on his horse )  , came to a standstill by the bridge with his three friends ,    he removed his large brimmed hat and threw back his long blond hair .                   ,
                "\ We  should find lodgings here  " said Demian ", and certainly drink a beer ."
".    We  have things to do here   -this is  a place of magic and transformation" . Said Lucius .
         Their voices drowned by the sound of the cauldron  droning beneath the bridge  .

Tree of life -acrylic . Inspired by an old ash tree in The Lake district england 2005

Work in progress entitled - Frieze phantasy , card applique cork oil and acrylic

Two water colours made in wales around 1970 .entitled Banners of spring ( left ) and a journey inland (*right )

composition entitled Marine Tenby 1970 gauche

Usk at Brecon

                              The kingfisher


                                       Streaked colourfully


                              Past me


                                        As I stood in the middle


                                                Of the river -


                                      And sat in a tree watching


                             Me intently.


                                  It must have thought -



                        That old heron


                                Will never catch fish that  way !

The negative side of Cenarth .Why pour cement and make a car park right in front of one of the most picturesque places in Wales , I always think that there shouldbe a poet or and painter on every town council!Deventer Nederland included !

contemplating fishing at Cenarth with Mr lucas

In the deep green ---( this is poem that I wrote all those years ago after a walk along the river Teifi at Cenarth . )

     



                         In the deep green 


                          Mysterious river - 


                 What  sharp poise you paint


                       Little    yellow wagtail - 


                What strange  N E W N E S S


                     Yet an image


                Of lonely beauty -


                       Perched upon that rock 


                            dancing


                In the moving mirror 


                    Of Autumn trees .

Wales revisited

                    After fortyfive years I came back to the small town of Cenarth - famous for its waterfall and leaping salmon My good friend Lucas and I were there to fish for the magical sewen or sea trout which can only be caught at night because they are so shy and clever .In my memory the place had a very important  place , a place of inspiration and magic ,Therefore of course I was inevitably in for a confrontation of the real world versus the ideal world!Of course there were changes ,but generally the place remained the same  but of course my mind had created a wonderful ideal world and the real world could never match this  . For instance I remember the river as being a charming idyll but now when I caste my fly into the water , the river was unheimisch .You would not want to fall into this river! One of my great memories of the place was of a small house by the bridge that had a bar with just one barrel of wonderful beer - non of the local people living there at that time could remember it, so maybe  reality and phantasy are again entwined ! As for the sea trout I hooked one but lost it !(made a photograph  on my blog of the falls )

Cenarth falls West Wales

Brecon Beacons

                   The beacons lovely geometry

                    Gracing the evening sky

                    In sparcely brushed calligraphy .

Girl with fan -idea for sculpture maybe -

Thought of the day

                        Its  taken all my life to get  here , to finally  understand. God what a waste !


                        Its taken me all my life, fooling around   - God what fun that was !

E X I L E

                        The city holds you 

                        In its flagrant dream -

                        Amsterdam  engorged  you

                         Like an anaconda -

                        You became part 

                       Of its murky Venitian

                                Veins ,

                        Its sordid alley-ways -

                        The sixties dream

                      In hippy  hashish

                                          Raga rooms -

                      Seedy tram clanging quarters

                     And half-naked madonnas -

                     Erotic trances

                     In  Eastern cultural facades .

                     The city will not

                    Release you ,

                     Until you say

                    " I am greater than you - 
                       
                    And all those that went
                    
                    Before me -escaping from 

                   Its thrall

                   Spewed back

                    Into the world  that you

                   So much despised !

      .

Exiled dreamer , sketch cafe amsterdam

Thought of the day - in verse

                     The world we know 

                      An illusion -

                      Created by

                      Collective mind .



                     The world we view

                     A collusion 

                     Invented by 

                     The partial blind .

More wood engravings from the 1960''s

wood engraving Londen 1963 entitled Rite