just spring

 

rite-of-spring

In Just-
spring          when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles          far          and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far          and          wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it’s
spring
and

the

goat-footed

balloonMan          whistles
far
and
wee

 

 

Poem: In Just- by e.e.cummings. 1920.

Painting: Rite of Spring. 20″ x 30″. acrylic on paper. by clinock.

Happy Spring to you all, wherever you are on the planet and however you celebrate this glorious renewal of life.

Mexico Redux -1

Rite of Spring. 22" x 30". acrylic on paper. (Ptg #19).
Rite of Spring. 22″ x 30″. acrylic on paper.

Although it has been an unbelievably mild winter in Vancouver, with new growth promising an early spring, I am still missing my annual visit to the heat of Mexico. Usually at this time I am either soaking in the roaring surf of Sayulita or painting in the sun drenched courtyards of historic San Miguel De Allende. Instead, I am rusting in the overcast chill of  a wet, north-west coast February.  So, for awhile, I am taking a virtual holiday by re-visiting some of my past Mexico posts, with a little tweaking and editing. I hope to share the southern sun with those of you who are deprived of such in this turn of seasons.

Patio SMA

Rite of Spring was created in San Miguel De Allende in this warm, sun dappled patio filled with sculptures, paintings, cats, street sounds, the coming and going of art students, nut sellers and the soulful music and song of central Mexico. I was inspired by images of the heat and colours of the Aztec sun god merged with the tree spirits of the dark northern forests of Canada dancing to the drums and singing of ancient Haida voices.

Musa Inesperada 4 – La Musa Velada

M veiled

O Crown of Light, O Darkened One,
I never thought we’d meet.
You kiss my lips, and then it’s done:
And I’m back, back on Boogie Street.

A sip of wine, a cigarette,
And then it’s time to go.
I tidied up the kitchenette;
I tuned the old banjo.
I’m wanted at the traffic-jam.
They’re saving me a seat.
I’m what I am, and what I am,
Is back on Boogie Street.

And O my love, I still recall
The pleasures that we knew;
The rivers and the waterfall,
Wherein I bathed with you.
Bewildered by your beauty there,
I’d kneel to dry your feet.
By such instructions you prepare
A man for Boogie Street.

O Crown of Light, O Darkened One,
I never thought we’d meet.
You kiss my lips, and then it’s done:
And I’m back, back on Boogie Street.

So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear.
Tho’ all the maps of blood and flesh
Are posted on the door,
There’s no one who has told us yet
What Boogie Street is for.

Boogie Street by Leonard Cohen and Sharon Robinson.

 Painting by clinock.  Acrylic on paper. 11″  x 15″. 2013. (Click on image for enlarged detail).

Musa Inesperada 1

Musa Inesperada 1

Unexpected muse – oscillating

in chiaroscuro tangos,

moon dance, fireflies, shifting light,

manifest yet amorphous in the night,

mysterious source, ambiguous arrivals,

uncharted departures.

 

A cracked piano in an old cafe,

waltz of anima and shadow,

words whispered – veiled metaphors,

images sent – fragments revealed,

suggested interplay of possibilities,

glimpses of visions.

 

Weaver of dreams, I recognize

those doors that open in your eyes,

the glittering fish that part your lips,

and the tangled webs of art and Eros

that search my hands, my head, my sleep,

and in the deepest dark of me

something is remembered

and released….

 

Painting and poem by clinock. 2013.

Painting:  Musa Inesperada 1. acrylic on paper. 8″ x 10″. (Click on image for more detail).