Glass of Sauternes
Posted by Robert Beer on 7/29/2010 8:49:11 PM
Yesterday a young girl stopped me on the street and asked: "Are you Conan the Barbarian?" When I replied 'No' there was a look of disappointment in her eyes, so I added: "Actually I am Conan's older brother." She seemed happy to know this.
Glass of Sauternes - saw paintings through - shocked by impact of hard shapes dissolving at edges giving throbbing liquid effulgence of colour.
I am trying to organise a terrific manifestation of subconscious synaesthetic imagery, it is not easy as a blankness surrounds my probing.
I cannot discover the universal, however I can let the universal discover me.
The written language becomes strange and more unlikely with each scrutinising - the imagery that it makes with a brush becomes more absolute in its meaning with each glance at it.
My painting becomes automatic writing. The calligraphy making statements that jump out of the colour and explode in the spectator's mind, planting seeds of warmth and cosmic force.
Vibration is the essence of all life and is the catalyst for the conversion of 'emotional residue' through the 'perceptual canal'. Emotional residue is mood.
The bath filled with water and steam hovered above - heat mist.
The moon waning gently from full was centrally placed in the view from the window as I lay on my back immersed in water, in darkness and watching the flicker on the surface. I wonder if the moon can be more magical at the stage after full, as opposed to the normally accepted time of maximum intensity. As I stared colours were suggested in the moon's aura. Soap gets into my eyes just as I feel I might see something strange in the garden from the open window. As my vision clears so do I suspect that some mystery has narrowly eluded me.
I thought about how as a child I would lay still, so as not to be hurt when lying in bed. The new feeling is that I am moving through space, no longer still but rather like a flow of asteroids.
All the mystery, beauty and vivid personal involvement with life is flooding back and displacing negative clouds that had evolved.
Painting gives me the opportunity to 'net' the elusive mystery that surrounds me. The bath experience smashes the time confusion that masks enlightenment. I know that the moon has more potency when seen waning, just as I know from science that stars seen shimmering in the night sky may be long extinct!
'Existentialism' in this way is inadequate if one seeks total fulfilment from it; for the 'moment' is only the flash of many moments past, present and future.
Light and colour penetrate deeply. What good is just a baptism of the outer skin?
I will no longer cheat my needs. All the things precious to me will be pursued. One's needs are directly reflected by natural behaviour. The falseness is never inherent - only the relative re-shaped assessment moulded by the Establishment - an organisation that devastates creative need and aspiration, and removes the rubble to heap on the toxic ethic of falseness.
My apparent 'sanity' of last year is now replaced by a more alarming and subtle destructive force, which threatens my whole mode of existence socially.
All my ideas and strong beliefs are anathema to society!!!
Yesterday I sat in the plush Mayfair cinema with scattered thoughts.
As I puffed my pipe on one cylinder the affluent man next to me muttered slyly and vitriolically. I made a remark expressing the wish that the smoke was not disturbing him.
"It is rather strong isn't it", he said.
"Well it is a simple matter of priority," I replied. "You see if I don't smoke it I become very violent!"
I had no more trouble after that.
It becomes increasingly more easy to paint and get my ideas down on canvas; and increasingly more difficult to hold back and stop committing social outrages!
I am trying to organise a terrific manifestation of subconscious synaesthetic imagery, it is not easy as a blankness surrounds my probing.
I cannot discover the universal, however I can let the universal discover me.
The written language becomes strange and more unlikely with each scrutinising - the imagery that it makes with a brush becomes more absolute in its meaning with each glance at it.
My painting becomes automatic writing. The calligraphy making statements that jump out of the colour and explode in the spectator's mind, planting seeds of warmth and cosmic force.
Vibration is the essence of all life and is the catalyst for the conversion of 'emotional residue' through the 'perceptual canal'. Emotional residue is mood.
The bath filled with water and steam hovered above - heat mist.
The moon waning gently from full was centrally placed in the view from the window as I lay on my back immersed in water, in darkness and watching the flicker on the surface. I wonder if the moon can be more magical at the stage after full, as opposed to the normally accepted time of maximum intensity. As I stared colours were suggested in the moon's aura. Soap gets into my eyes just as I feel I might see something strange in the garden from the open window. As my vision clears so do I suspect that some mystery has narrowly eluded me.
I thought about how as a child I would lay still, so as not to be hurt when lying in bed. The new feeling is that I am moving through space, no longer still but rather like a flow of asteroids.
All the mystery, beauty and vivid personal involvement with life is flooding back and displacing negative clouds that had evolved.
Painting gives me the opportunity to 'net' the elusive mystery that surrounds me. The bath experience smashes the time confusion that masks enlightenment. I know that the moon has more potency when seen waning, just as I know from science that stars seen shimmering in the night sky may be long extinct!
'Existentialism' in this way is inadequate if one seeks total fulfilment from it; for the 'moment' is only the flash of many moments past, present and future.
Light and colour penetrate deeply. What good is just a baptism of the outer skin?
I will no longer cheat my needs. All the things precious to me will be pursued. One's needs are directly reflected by natural behaviour. The falseness is never inherent - only the relative re-shaped assessment moulded by the Establishment - an organisation that devastates creative need and aspiration, and removes the rubble to heap on the toxic ethic of falseness.
My apparent 'sanity' of last year is now replaced by a more alarming and subtle destructive force, which threatens my whole mode of existence socially.
All my ideas and strong beliefs are anathema to society!!!
Yesterday I sat in the plush Mayfair cinema with scattered thoughts.
As I puffed my pipe on one cylinder the affluent man next to me muttered slyly and vitriolically. I made a remark expressing the wish that the smoke was not disturbing him.
"It is rather strong isn't it", he said.
"Well it is a simple matter of priority," I replied. "You see if I don't smoke it I become very violent!"
I had no more trouble after that.
It becomes increasingly more easy to paint and get my ideas down on canvas; and increasingly more difficult to hold back and stop committing social outrages!
