S P E N T : S t i l l i f e

"Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, 
Not uttered by base sale of chapmen's tongues "

Love's Labour's Lost    William Shakespeare

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : R a i n M o s s E y e G r e e n

 

A F I G U R E of S P E E C H

Hair of Ananas comosus

 

T W O of U S

 

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : Beach Cry

 

P E S C A D E R O : Beached

 

Ce n'est pas (redux)

 

P A P E R on P A P E R : Ten Thirty One (Joomchi'd Kozo on Xuan)

 

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : Harpo's Blues and Ashes Laid To Rest

 

I wish I was a willow
And I could sway to the music in the wind
And I wish I was a lover
I wouldn't need my costumes and pretend
I wish I was a mountain
I'd pass boldly through the clouds and never end
I wish I was a soft refrain
When the lights were out I'd play
And be your friend
I strut and fret my hour upon the stage
The hour is up...

Harpo's Blues   Phoebe Snow

                   

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : Desparately Seeking Sally Mann's

 

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : October

 

A S I A N A R T M U S E U M S F : Once Upon a Time It Was A Library

 

P A P E R on P A P E R : Floaters A Cloud of Pulp in Suspension

 

A C O M B I N A T I O N of the B L U E S

 

H O R T E N C I A

You bring them in, a trug of thundercloud,

neglected in long grass and the sulk

of a wet summer. Now a weight of wet silk

in my arms like her blue dress, a load

of night-inks shaken from their hair –

her hair a flame, a shadow against light

as long ago she leaned to kiss goodnight

when downstairs was a bright elsewhere

like a lost bush of blue hydrangeas.

You found them, lovely, silky, dangerous,

their lapis lazulis, their indigoes

tide-marked and freckled with the rose

of death, beautiful in decline.

I touch my mother’s skin. Touch mine.

Blue Hydrangeas, September   Gillian Clarke

S T U D I O @ F O U R F O R T Y F I V E

 

S F M O M A : Nam June Paik

 

I Pledge Allegiance

 

P A P E R on P A P E R : A Blue Nun Looking Into South of Indigo

 

P A P E R o n P A P E R : Totem of White or Gehry South Pole in Repose

 

S H R O U D E D S O M E W H E R E in P A R I S

 

G h o s t P a p e r : Early Thinking Cap A Pylon For Thought

 

P A P E R o n P A P E R : White Hoodie Thinking About Guston

 

O n e P o i n t P e r s p e c t i v e : The Inevitable Ascension Of A Life Form

 

G h o s t P a p e r : Two Vessels Simultaneously Viewing The Speed Of Light

 

S F M O M A : Peripheral Observations At Joan Mitchell's

 

S F M O M A : Ascending Escher's Descension On The Way To Joan Mitchell

 

G h o s t P a p e r : Vessel In Light / Homage To Mark Adams Watercolorist

 

G h o s t P a p e r : Chicago A Parting Of The Ways

 

G h o s t P a p e r : The Walk On Water

 

T h e U s u a l S u s p e c t s : White Collar Crime Surrounded By Areas Of Grey

 

T h e E n d of a R o l l 2 0 2 0 : The Wave

 

T h e E n d of a R o l l 2 0 2 0 : Post No Bills / Homage To Irving Penn

 

G A Z O S L O V E S O N G S : Out To Sea Redux

 

M a n F o r g e t s T h e E a r t h R e m e m b e r s : The Last Bird 2021

 

T h e E n d of a R o l l 2 0 2 0 : Revealing Himself He Imagined Becoming A Cloud

 

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow

It's cloud illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all . . .

Both Sides Now  Joni Mitchell

P A P E R O N P A P E R : W a s h i + K a n j i

 

T h e E n d of a R o l l 2 0 2 0 : Clinging To The Very End

 

P A P E R O N P A P E R : A Portrait of Washi

 

P A P E R O N P A P E R : White Paper Speaking In Tongues

 

Remembering Impermanence and a Blackboard

 

P A P E R O N P A P E R : Bridled Appaloosa Indigo