Art Afield

this is my field, which will become what surrounds it and us~ plastic and composite townhomes

double lot, three big fences to hang art, and lots of grass to spread out some blankets and eat fruit salad

art show coming next month

a heavy fog rolled in last Sunday

the Georgian and Armenian national townhomes, are for sale

cheap front doors and all

Everyone was over in Ballard for this great art show~ Lazy Sunday benefit art show by Jake and Sean~ for youth in focus

baby Forest either loves this piece or is mentally damage by it, he stands in front staring, unmoving

they beat me to art in fields, free range art, garden art, damn these kids

i can't comment, i'll get in trouble~ the weather was wonderful, the crowd was diverse the event was well attended, it was great thanks for inviting me at the last minute~

eco~expressionism

Pucci sent me these old acrylic paints, which she had found at an auction~

and now i'm painting all these big found boards up, to hang at the painting afield show

first painting i have ever signed on the front, crazy, all found art material, some old brushes,

there's this field around the corner, which one day will become town homes, fenced, overgrown, three side surrounded, i'm going to mow a path around and hang all this art up on the fences

and have a party, sometime next month, a picnic, with soda pop and potato chips, kids and a poached art venue

trying to bring back, expressionism, past neo~expressionism w/cake

Welcome to ECO~EXPRESSIONISM

welcome to XPRESSIONISM

the cars

i failed third grade, once, years ago, and i'd like to believe it was because, my teacher had died, from being pushed down the stairs, or that i was down by the river with my little friends being taught how to make out by two hippie teenagers, a boy and a girl sitting on see~saws

i dropped out of college because it was summer time and i ate beef and broccoli on sixth ave

i lived in Miami, under a gigantic sun, turned so brown, my hair looked blonde, while every night i just wished we moved back to Astoria, Queens

i have, we have lived in Seattle, Wa. now for over ten years, the longest i have ever lived anywhere, and all i want to do is escape, this weather is killing me, if i see one, single drop of rain again, i might just close my eyes and stay in rooms with tea friends

how can something so vastly out of scale be played with ~ i wish the steel and glass was gauged to actual scale dimensions. . .

that way we could crash these little candy colored lozenges, into each other and create wonderful wrecks, damaged beauties, micro~surreal drama

roll them down streets with flat tires, flappn'

i drove away from 28 th ave, staring at stars and streets signs behind bomb pop colored fingers

each of us pulls a huge mutha' of a trailer behind, casting long dark shadows, from youths tingling tiny feet

for the passed few years, with these eager boys beside me, i've learned to live in the windshields view, not the rearview or the sideview

the road ahead, the indicators, the mile marker, to live this second, to roll it slow, or creep it full speed, screaming, throwing our lives into the air

twisting clouds of plastic adventures, with small scale brown eyes which see in the dark, see the invisible and believe everything, anything, all the time, anytime~

i have this very show in Seattle next month, there will be no opening

the tree and the dust chapter 10

Chapter 10

After the battle had blown by, and the ground stopped trembling, the velveteen robot stood over the incredibly old man and watched him, undie. . .the thin blade impaled in the chest the head flopped back over the shoulder, laying in the wickets, two hands folded over stomach, golden thick curdled blood drenched
I could leave you here now, and end this story let the world fall back to bugs and sticks give you up to your make believe everything~ this cyclical monotony could pass
As the robot chirped, it’s hands pulled the thin blade from out flesh, pulling slowly, with uncertainty, wiping the blade as withdrawn, the tip falls out with a impudent ejaculation, the robot holds the blade before its own glittering jewel eyes and sheaths it on it’s hip.

I’m going to walk away now Dosh

"Ah, but you can’t my friend, your feet are already my feet" and the robot looks down and is surprised to see it’s very own feet pulling themselves up like socks over incredibly old feet
The velveteen robot drops onto it’s knees onto the old mans knees and lays on top of him as a blanket, a sweater, a quilted lover, and slowly sinks into Dosh, to ride upon his flesh, as uniform, spacesuit, menaced lover

"Follow the girl," the incredibly old man named Dosh says, hidden within a grey wall of suit~ and another velveteen robot steps out of the reeds and runs to catch up with the group running across the ice, under black testicle skies
We can’t follow the girl, the robots speaks, we can’t follow the girl within the suit
"Why ?" The old man screams, struggling to his feet, "why can’t we follow the girl. Why ? "

Because twenty minutes ago. . .

The girl within the suit, watches the blood vomit and tears pearl up, bead and roll off of her black clad lap
All she’d ever wanted to do was be inside a suit, to be immortal, to fly between the blackness of nights pinpricked stars, to breath vacuum, to drink the flesh and eat the fluid, but most importantly all she’d ever been trained to do, was wear this suit and get back home. . .

A home encapsulated in ice, frozen solid to the magma, a system suspended in time, locked away, the sun enveloped, enshrouded, like a jewel so intricately formed and framed in filigree as to be caged, locked away behind a wall of blackness so silver, a dam of light perched infinity behind, plunging eight or twelve planets into a frozen exile, away from life, the blackness so complete, that the stars slice thin scratches across the frozen face like a whisper, vapors vast ease off, as the atmosphere slowly sinks to settle below the hill tops to roll across the ice flow flawed waves, pushed against brittle beaches sanded polish. . .

A home frozen to death and guarded, surrounded by micro worlds of weapon, a halo, hidden beneath the dust of stars. . .

"Which way to the ship," she asks, the robot to her right, then to her left, "we have to hurry, which way, which way ? "

And the suit rumbles an answer into her very own throat, "there is no ship, you saw our ship exploded, enfire, smoldering, you must ask questions, only if the answer is unknown to you, these creatures will grow dull and leave you. . ."

"How do we get off this world then, suit, this is not our home,"
"And I, girl, am no human~ and you, girl, know the only way off of this planet"

"My people ! Won’t let this suit on board, my people won’t believe I am who I say, I am with the dead, to my. . ."

"Family, I know, and you know the only way off the planet then, take their ship from them, we only need to get into orbit, you can give it back, "

"My family wont let us take it, or give it back, they’ll have to defend the ship, I could take off the suit, and board. . ."
"You can not take off a suit, that says, no."
And the baby squirms beneath the folds of uniform and roots. And the girl frowns and adjusts, watches a snowfleck
"Run with me then, robots, how fast can I run suit ? she bites her lips and sprints toward her people




A vast pastoral universe stretching out from eye holes forever in every direction an endless black sea, waveless, calm and serene, mindless, morose flat without form the color of nothing, the form of often~
Looking at it makes my face hurt and ages one about the eye, weakens the bone, dulls the teeth sticks pin holes in the flesh, burned traces of tears of acid
The vastness of black eel grasses, under foot~ you could walk forever, die and be reborn to walk forever and repeat~ forever and never ever arrive anywhere because it is all nothing full of nothing but black swirling matter invisible to living beings, punctuated by small flecks of startling white stars, nameless, lost forgotten, a drift above the heads of dreamers.

They made the ships fly away,
There are no fleets, nobody could ever afford a fleet~ to what end would a fleet serve, there is no one to fight, this is not the sea of old histories hysterical overpopulated city states and aggressive children of god, this is a grown up space, with nothing but vastness
There is no where to go, but to go, we live between the stars, off worlders, the drifting elite, within the sphere and forested home we ourselves have formed, woven from our technologies womb,
If there is a planet, it is either dead or lifeless, or full of already evolved monsters
Humanity is hunted, haunted and hated

We have become monsters
We have always been monsters


Somebody else beat us to the name human, took away our rights, captured our homeland, ran across the stars, and told us to die, we trespass, on the very ground we emerged from, so we changed, we simply became !

this girl within this suit

which carries the stink of old

ah, Dosh, how did you get so old ? she whispers, a hushed sigh of exhaust, a gaseous mix recycled back to her chewed upon lips, moving around the name

Dosh. . .

tree of the week

topped and hacked at by public utilities this mid~sized hag, sits over along side the Madison Safeway, ignored

ankles and belly billowing over sidewalks, threatening pedestrian and automobile alike

as some inverted octopie, with fern necklace

this city doesn't have too many large trees within it's crusty walls, the whole west coast was logged out fairly recently, and then of course all the hills were blown flat with water cannon and man sized ideas of incline, one hundred years ago this place was one huge mud field, stabbed through with blackberry

a large canopied tree within the cities streets is a very hard thing to photograph, i think one must use a large format camera, but the step back distance may be too great, i'll see what i can do.

spring still pops from these hideous branches

this week i've been reading an amazing book, which is too large to read properly, they should publish a pocket sized version for us smaller folk, sans coffee table

Meetings with remarkable trees

by

Thomas Pakenham

well, written, poetic, full of quotation, old prints and new photographs, wonderful narrative, historical, focused, loaded with all the things that i love in a book, story telling, truth and grace

a word i rarely get to speak.

this book goes from here, out to you with high recommendations

N~

vain vs moss

i keep waiting for this mossy masterpiece to be bulldozed or imploded or burned, but it's still here

the greens are really beginning to pop~ deep into this very wet spring

and i, am thinking about a new hair style, not for me, exactly, but for all of you~

pink lips and moss, against spring lit evenings waiting for destruction

i like to pretend that i had a girlfriend with each of these hair cuts, you know who you are, and who's hair is who's

i'll bring the lipstick, you bring the ears~

plus some new art posts~ here

http://mountoctopus.blogspot.com/2010/04/details.html

a plan ?

i was just wondering~ does the USA, which is a collective representing us,

do we have any long range plans, i never hear anyone talking about next year, ten years, twenty, a hundred, where are we going as a people, a nation, a world ?

it looks as though, with the economy and all these stupid wars, that we wont be going out to mars, or the moon, or space at all, not as a people anyway, maybe with machines and eyes

i know at one point we had that whole, crazy manifest destiny thing going on, thank god, the Canadian army stopped us, and the Mexicans invaded and subjugated us, thank god again !

so what are we going to do, retire, play golf, read

any one have any idea ? i need a long range goal, should i be saving pennies or socks or something

you don't think we're just flailing around, making babies and eating up resources~ do you ?

i know that we're not building any long term monuments, unless it could be highways and flat spots on lands, where are our pyramids, Parthenon's, or Stonehenge's machupicchu, Angkor Wat's ? not that we have to build anything to have a plan, but come on, TV isn't a long term goal of a people, nor is acquiring wealth, hording riches or shopping

perhaps as Europe has become the EU, North and South America can unite and form a Mondo~Nueva, united in economy, culture, cash,drugs, defense and fruit

we need a bigger dream than tomorrow mornings coffee pot, next years holiday, the kids moving out

should we be mastering ourselves, building better humans, uniting our nations, in peaceful pursuit, can we grow me some wings, gills, webbed fingers, super powers, esp, telekenesis, monosexuality, giant brains~ come one humanity think of something to reach for

build some robots, build us a new god~ or two, time machines, a paradise on earth

something, anything~can we talk to whales or dolphins ? can we grow some big trees~ a city under the waves~ food in pill form, poop in pill form~ help me out here

i need to tell the kids what their kids can look forward to,

a hope~ a dream~ something beyond our reach~ more distant than stars

* * * * * * * * * *

all art work borrowed from the pulp novel/comic

The Invaders: alien missile threat by paul s. newman

1967

created by larry cohen

artist uncredited