photo by Clinock
photo by Clinock
There are periods of moments
strung together like seagulls
along the white wake of time
that seem to glow with more light,
more intense shadows sliding,
more music in their foam.
There have been days like this
leading to the now of writing
on this poignant day of remembrance:
I shivered, sweating and sleepless
through nights of fevered demons
the medicines invoked in the blood.
And at the same time needing
to solve incomprehensible clues
leading to solutions of puzzles
I didn’t ask for or want.
And always the rumors of war
we didn’t ask for or want.
There were the anniversary rituals too.
One year after the crowning of the mad king,
and the previous day, because he knew to leave
before the Ace of Spades became the trump,
Mister Cohen waved farewell.
I bled tears that day for a man I loved.
And today, the eleventh day of the eleventh month,
we enact our agreed rituals of mourning:
Silence, remembering, honouring the dead
of the wars that never end.
People, we can do better than this,
isn’t it time we gave all our children peace?
“From bitter searching of the heart,
we rise to play a greater part.”
Mixed media art, photo and poem by Clinock
she knew immediately
the symbolism, the references,
the memory, the confession.
there are people in my life
who know more about me than I do.
I make my confession to them.
Art and Poem by Clinock.
’43’. 6″ x 6″ (15.24 x 15.24 cm). Mixed media relief sculpture in cradled panel.
Demented – from Old French dementer or late Latin dementare, from demens ‘out of one’s mind’.
Confessions – via Old French from Latin confessio (n-) from confiteri ‘acknowledge’
My Renovation Quest was to become out of my mind. Somewhat in the same way one is out of milk or coffee but more to the point outside of the rational and the drunken monkey, like the Dadaist Buddhists were if they ever were.
I do not welcome madness. I did once or twice but there was no pleasure in it.
Dali said: “The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad”.
So I confess and acknowledge what is found. Each work is a confession and a confirmation. I honour each work as an actual act of art made with these hands, eyes, heart and brain.
It was another hard winter, here in the soft northwest Pacific sense of ‘hard’. Almost endless rain and if not rain then air so loaded with icy moisture one could squeeze it like a sponge and almost get snowflakes. A chilling, foggy dank, cabin fever, mossy, dripping, out of one’s mind Gothic kind of winter as I began these wall boxes. They are a necessary transition from my free standing ‘Renovation Art’ sculptures to that which comes next.
They made me laugh and wonder and ask what, and why.
In the dark hibernation of my winter past, in the name of Renovation, I made my confessions every day and night to all who still lived and listened. Did you hear my sins? Did you enjoy them? Did you hear my invocation? Must there be sacrifice?
Self-indulgent revelations in the fur and fire of the cave.
Invocation. Mixed media relief wall box by clinock. H.8″ (20.32 cm) x W.8″ (20.32 cm) x D.2″ (5.08 cm).
better eye to eye
than head to head
but better head to head
than back to back
this is the dueling stance,
ten paces gentlemen
then turn and kill
and may the best man win
how do we measure
‘the best’, and ‘man’
while the ‘not quite so best’
die again and again?
Sacrifice is an archaic prayer
of blood, shadows and dark power
but still we feed the endless fires
and the insatiable gods
Art and Poem by Clinock
Sculpture: tête-à-tête by Clinock. H. 8″ x W. 6″ x D. 8″ (varies). Fired and acrylic stained clay / feathers / screws / beads / painted wood base.
Words by Leonard Cohen.
First three photos by clinock.
Final photo thanks Google Images.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
From this heart to all of yours…may your New Year be filled with love, creativity and magic…we build the doors and then we pass through them…
“For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll drink a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”
Photo by clinock