Photo by Clinock
Photo by Clinock
Looking,
but not seeing
this leaping spring,
you are observed
in your surreal museum
by the world.
Incongruous anachronism,
guardian, warrior,
frozen in time,
stiffly stuffed
with unquestioning allegiance
to sunken empires.
Your Freudian
hat and gun stand to,
but not with,
attention,
while across the street
cherry blossoms bloom
and all the human tribes
sing for peace.
Hero on guard
for the forgotten,
May The Fourth Be With You.
Poem and photo by clinock. (I’m sorry, every year I can’t resist).
With thanks to unknown Vancouver street artist and taggers
Extract from VAG’s write up on Jacques Villegle:
“The idea was really to take what was out there in the street and basically just select a section of it and frame it. All the work was really done by someone else, time passing, or the weather.”
“In the 1930s, the poster was called the “journal (newspaper) of the street,” something that really reflected society. And what I think I realized at the time was that the posters, as an art form, were always going to evolve and so there would always be something new to explore. In the 1950s for example, photography was not used in posters, it was still drawings.”
A keen observer of urban art and society, each of his works bears the name of the street where the poster was collected. For Villeglé the posters are as much witnesses as they are actors in their environment, and while he makes the choice of framing the final image, he is completely absent from the actual execution of the works, which have been created by an anonymous collective, which is why he describes his ripped posters as “lacères anonymes.”
Credits: All images, except the first and last, and all descriptors were photographed at the Vancouver Art Gallery (VAG) by clinock. Thanks to the VAG.
The first and last images thanks to Google Images.
Villegle quotes in italics and final write-up on the artist thanks to http://www.blouinartinfo.com
torn by wet winds
erodes and decays,
entering a deep
and melancholic
sleep.
It’s a worn and aging mask
painted with autumn
landscapes,
dreaming of sunflowers
broken by storms,
trees ripped into
spinning kaleidoscopes
of red and gold confetti,
and
tire marks
in the snow.
October’s face,
up against the wall of time
disintegrates,
fragments,
descends with the leaves
towards darker days.
Its beauty is short
but the fall
is long.
poem and photo by clinock (edited redux).
photo: found wall art, Vancouver. Thanks and Credit to unknown artist.
in the season
of dying and farewells
the broken,
the rusted,
the rejected
are touched by magic,
resurrected,
garlanded in lights
and flowers,
transmogrified
and honoured
as fallen leaves
and a tenuous sun
ride summer memories
through October streets.
photo and poem by clinock.
Click on photo for superior viewing experience.
“I know you’re new at this Mary but is it wise to bathe the child in chicken soup?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. This has to be one of my all time favorite Madonna and Child icons. The expression on the face of baby JC cracks me up every time. (Feel free to add your own caption if you wish…)
photo by clinock, from pavement outside of Siena Cathedral, Italy.
Click on photo for superior viewing experience.
i•con (ˈaɪ kɒn)
[1565–75; < Latin < Greek eikṓn likeness, image, figure]