My gift to you will be an abyss, she said,
but it will be so subtle you’ll perceive it
only after many years have passed
and you are far from Mexico and me.
You’ll find it when you need it most,
and that won’t be
the happy ending,
but it will be an instant of emptiness and joy.
And maybe then you’ll remember me,
if only just a little.
My Gift To You, Roberto Bolaño
Photo: Henry Cartier Bresson- Hyeres France, 1932
Te regalaré un abismo, dijo ella,
pero de tan sutil manera que sólo lo percibirás
cuando hayan pasado muchos años
y estés lejos de México y de mí.
Cuando más lo necesites lo descubrirás,
y ese no será
el final feliz,
pero sí un instante de vacío y de felicidad
Y tal vez entonces te acuerdes de mí,
aunque no mucho.
Te regalaré un abismo – Roberto Bolaño
Worth sharing just a few images of a great show at the Guggenheim. Using mostly Painting as a medium, here he represents the human environment and cultural references.
This paintings, photographs and works in paper are mainly monochrome and large.
His work is passionate and very inspiring; he is definitely one of the great painters of this era.
“Your Distant Heart”
by Roberto Bolano
I don’t feel safe
The adventure doesn’t end.
Your eyes shine in every corner.
I don’t feel safe
Or in money
Or in mirrors.
The Adventure never ends
And your eyes are searching for me.
“Imagine immensities, don’t compromise, and don’t waste time.” Debbie Millman
I opened the doors of my Studio last night at PointB, the place where I live in Brooklyn, New York. I got the opportunity to show my paintings and prose with other 4 artists, each one showing their work at their studios.
My favorite moment: when I got to read the prose to my friends.
Thanks, thanks and thanks to all the friends who came. It’s going to be up for a while.
Bellow, some my work exhibited.
Color is an element that empowers the Soul. Poetry, the articulation of that “Soul”.
Drums of Joy, 2013. Acrylics. 36″ x 18″
Grounded Crown, 2013. Acrylics, Gouache and Oil on Canvas.
We are specialists. 2013. Acrylics, Gouache and Oil on Canvas.
Ojos. (Eyes) 2013. Acrylics
Glow, 2013. Acrylics
Poetas Ocultos. (Hidden Poets) 2013, Acrylics. 36″ x 18″
“Never worry about being obsessive. I like obsessive people. Obsessive people make great art”
― Susan Sontag
Art by Richard Prince
The elevated piece composed by the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt creates the perfect afternoon. Consisting in two parts: “Ludis” and “Silentium” the complete piece lasts 26 minutes. Enjoy and relax.
“Here is God’s purpose –
for God to me, it seems,
is a verb
not a noun,
proper or improper;
is the articulation
not the art, objective or subjective;
not the abstraction “love” commanded or entreated;
is knowledge dynamic,
not legislative code,
not proclamation law,
not academic dogma, nor ecclesiastic canon.”
I’m currently reading “Starting with the Universe” a book dedicated to the life and work of “Bucky Fuller”- as he was known and called by his friends- who was an extraordinary architect, systems theorist, author, designer, inventor, and futurist.
Fuller, the creator of the Geodesic- Dome and many other structures, frequently used geometry and geological concepts. His aim was to create living environments that minimized consumption of the earth’s resources while maximizing interconnections with global systems of information and transportation.
His quotes are all remarkable but his ones are my favorites:
“Dare to be naïve”
“Don’t fight forces, use them”.
“Love is a metaphysical gravity”
(These are photos I took of the book I have).
“John “JonOne” Perello grew up in Harlem where graffiti and tags were seen in everyday life. Nowadays, JonOne has structured his work from the streets of New York to the “limitations” of canvas (some extremely large) and he now fancy more brushstrokes than air sprays.
However, even though we can see some inspirations coming from Jackson Pollock, Jean Dubuffet or even Henri Matisse, the street is still very much there.
His extremely colorful paintings remind us of the frenzy of large cities, of their bright lights and social codes. JonOne’s work is an allegory of the Urban Jungle in which most of us live, but always seen from the optimist and colorful side of life.”
check him out!!!!
As seen in Frieze Art Fair this year. Barbara Kruger.
Always killing it!.
I’m lyin’ down thinkin’ ’bout you
I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout you
Do you think about me still? Do ya, do ya?
Or do you not think so far ahead?
‘Cause I been thinkin’ ’bout forever (Oooh, oooh)
Yes, of course I remember, how could I forget?
How you feel?
And though you were my first time
A new feel
It won’t ever get old, not in my soul
Not in my spirit, keep it alive
We’ll go down this road’Til it turns from color to black and white.
Lyrics: Frank Ocean <——->Art: Keith Haring
“La pasión es geometría. Rombos, cilindros, ángulos latidores. La pasión es geometría que cae al abismo, observada desde el fondo del abismo”
Roberto Bolaño, Prosa del otoño en Gerona
“Passion is geometry. Rhombuses, cylinders, lateral angles. Passion is geometry that falls into the abyss, observed from the depths of the abyss.”
Roberto Bolaño. Tales of the Autum in Gerona
*photo of the crystals in my office
“The artist must train not only his eye but also his soul.” ― Wassily Kandinsky
TODAY’S INSPIRATION – KANDINSKY – BLACK LINES, 1913
inspirado mix by my favorites – No Regular Play
The no regulars bring us an eclectic mix that will make u twist and scream and will leave u sleepless. Like it did to me.
*picture from art basel 2012
A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.
With her work my eyes see a beauty metaphor, a collage of textiles with bonds that exemplify the cultures and unions of humans and practices transcending time, space and the mind. Its hard to describe what field Hicks works on; what this artist has been working for half a century represents an intersection between arts, crafts, architecture and design. Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia and Chile are among the countries where she has absorbed her knowledge and have influenced her weaving.
Hicks is a global artist who adopted the language of textiles as her primary medium and expanded it exponentially.
Monumental public commissions have occupied her since the mid-’60s have required complex studio setups and help of assistants: from her bas-relief medallion tapestries for the Ford Foundation headquarters in Manhattan (1966-67); to her wall hangings for a fleet of Air France 747s, stitched by hand in white silk (1969-77); to commissions for King Saud University in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, (1982-85) and a cultural center in Fuji City, Japan (1992-93); to an immense linen-and-cork knot, some 20 feet high by 60 feet wide, for the corporate offices of Target in Minneapolis.
Hicks’s brilliantly colored loops, tangles, weaves, and tassels produce an instantaneous, visceral reaction.
One original COLOR is worth a thousand mindless COLORS : )
I have a new color to work on this summer !!!!
“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist
“There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence is immensely heightened” Charles Baudelaire.
When you set a scene and situation to write about, when you get to see a work of art that you admire, when you arrive at the top of a mountain, when you finish a painting, when you see a smile in a dog, when you feel somebody else’s sadness, when you read signals, when everything is PERFECTLY connected, when you love.
The streets were damp and gray; those were the streets where no one lived. Deep dark clouds were moving at high speed. It was a special day. I was restless and wanted some signals. It was Friday; we went out on a trip despite the weather conditions and time. In front of us, a big black cloud threatened with a storm. It started to rain. Any hope of sun vanished away. We got into a bar and ordered two drinks. Mezcal for you and Rum for me. “That’s what we needed”, we said, then we left. With the rain, the grass got greener and the blue mountains stood out from the gray lamped landscape. I saw strangers walking and riding through the streets in silence. I drove in silence too. The soundtrack in the car played “my little girl, drive anywhere, do what you want, I don’t care”. It was near nightfall and a little bit of sunlight emerged. It lit up the sky. We parked on a bridge. We had to park to appreciate this. On my right side there was a giant moon rising reflecting its own light on the lake. What a strong feeling of serenity and calm!. I was standing there in awe. On my left side, the volcano was erupting and the sun falling. How much power and inspiration! Tears came out of my eyes. It was a discovery. “Yes, it’s possible!” I repeated. I got the message.
El viento de la noche golpea en las ventanas, interrumpe el silencio. Nuestras miradas se encuentran, el vino nos relaja súbitamente. Termina la cena, nuestras manos sobre la mesa, nuestras mentes en el encuentro. Las decoraciones del postre no importan, tampoco la ropa nueva. Se oye el reloj de la cocina, el viento sigue soplando, al fondo mueve la cortina de terciopelo. Hacemos planes para el fin de semana, suena tu teléfono. El reloj marca las once, tu te acercas, tocas mi cabello. Yo cierro los ojos, despego en un sueño. Un sueño salvaje, en que no limpiemos los platos, que los tirásemos al suelo, que viviésemos el presente, que lo desafiásemos de nuevo. Uno en que suenen tambores, que bailemos con deseo, que marchen soldados, que canten mil voces, que anuncien la llegada de un heredero.
Full moon coming. Crystals, fire, tibetan bowls, smoke with sage. And intention.
CLICK ON THE PHOTO FOR THE ARTIST’S TUMBLR
Tu mirada es mi filtro de colores y quiero flotar en tu mar permanentemente.
Tus aguas son mi lenguaje musical y mi luz es tu alma cristalina.
Tu lógica es mi felicidad y tus tristezas mis viajes pasajeros.
Tus pasiones son mis debilidades y tus sonrisas mi nobleza.
Mis miedos y temores son tus verguenzas y tu fuerza es mi determinación.
Mis lágrimas tus penas y tu bondad mi destino.
Had the pleasure to see James Turell’s exhibition yesterday evening that features a work he started in the dessert in Arizona in 1970.
Autonomous Structures, as you can see in the picture above, are chambers designed for experiencing visual phenomena and connecting visitors with the movements of the cosmos.
As he explained, “Autonomous Structures are just containers for the light; the art is in the experience of the viewer.” Made between 1989 and 2010, the models evolved from spaces Turrell built and designed within the Roden Crater and, like the crater’s chambers, contain Skypaces (apertures to the sky carved into an enclosed space) or Ganzfeld pieces (unmodulated field of light that dissolve architectural space).
Influenced by the design of ancient observatories, including Angkor Wat, Machu Picchu in Peru, and the Mayan and Egyptian pyramids, this amazing structures are simultaneously ancient and futuristic.
We walked in the mud through an impenetrable mountain. It was a lost paradise where the silence was our only companion. The mud reminded us on every step our obstacles and the dirt made us accomplices of something that we only knew. For some time we thought that one of those encounters at the darkest time of the day could be the last one. I remember the mountain had luxurious and impressive trees with emerging sap, reminding us that nature saves. Vegetation was thick, the desire was intense, and the more we climbed up the more the mass forgot our existence. Sunrises were our missed links and the mist of the night made us warriors, artists and poets. That was our destiny: the awakening of an inward poetry, so personal that one afternoon caught us on the top of the mountain and it was so silent it became unbearable. That afternoon we had to choose and your words came to rescue a promise of a tender separation and eternal loyalty.
The Brooklyn contemporary artist José Parlá, has now and until March 28th his first solo exhibition at the Haunch of Venison in London, after one he had back in 2008. “Broken Language” includes paintings, sculptures and photographs.
This work is a vivid resemblance of his life: movement, rites of passage and documented travels then expressed through very diverse mediums. Stories are captured through marking and calligraphy, emotions with layers of paint and textures, and rhythms through lively and deep combination of colors that reflect his Cuban roots.
“Broken Language” proves the logical analogy between colour and sound, between forms and rhythm of beat. These striking pieces give to those observers capable of feeling them, lofty emotions beyond the reach of words.
Part of his latest projects include “Wrinkles of the City”, a collaboration with JR the French artist, for the 11th Havana Biennial in Cuba, a public mural commissioned by the Barclays Center in Downtown Brooklyn and a mural painting commissioned by the Brooklyn Academy of Music for the new BAM FISHER Theatre in Brooklyn.
Photos courtesy of the artist.
“Her goal its to explore whats left unsaid along the edges of a conversation: Its the principle of looking at familiar stars so the galaxies that cant be seen head on, appear out of the corner of your eye”
@Just Saying, a great article in the New Yorker about “The anti-theatrical theater of Annie Baker”
As seen in Williamsburg, Brooklyn just around the corner.
Soul Clap’s French Touch
THIS PODCAST MADE FOR COLETTE STORE -PARIS AND OUT 2 MONTHS AGO, ITS STILL HOT AND PERFECT FOR A WEDNESDAY AT WERK.
“A picture is worth a thousand words. But words are slow and and a picture is immediate: in one moment of clear perception, an image may impress upon us what only hours of reading can convey” Gurdjieff
But there’s a full moon risin’
Let’s go dancin’ in the light
We know where the music’s playin’
Let’s go out and feel the night.
I visited “How Much Do I Owe You?” at “No Longer Empty” now located at the Clock Tower in Long Island City, Queens. The former Bank of Manhattan building opened its doors, vaults and even illuminated The Clock Tower to host an ambitious site-specific exhibition.
This exhibit explores the new iterations of currency, value and exchange at this time of financial flux, growing debt and job insecurity.Inspired by the Bank building and the surrounding neighborhood, 26 artists from 15 countries confront these issues and how they are negotiated in the workforce, housing market, and in the every day.
GHOST OF A DREAM -GUERRA DE LA PAZ. (WAR OF PEACE IN ENGLISH) The handshake symbolized a convey, a pact without weapons, in times where ethic is in question.
Excellently curated by Manon Slome, this exhibition has a variety of media: from sound installations, projections, and film to installations and large scale sculptures.
THE PRICE OF HAPPINESS – Made with discarded US and Chinese lottery tickets and Buddhist afterworld money. Created after long deliberation and research about what people dream if they win the lottery.
“The sculptor and Conceptualist Wolfgang Laib is the honeybee of the international art world. Since the 1970s, his trademark activity has been gathering pollen from trees and plants in the countryside near his home in southern Germany. He puts the pollen in bottles and flies to distant places around the world to create ephemeral installations of yellow dust on museum and gallery floors and inseminate the minds of viewers with thoughts of harmony between human civilization and nature.”
Caminamos por el barro en una montaña impenetrable. Era un paraíso perdido donde sólo el silencio nos acompañaba. El lodo a cada paso nos ayudaba a pensar en nuestros obstáculos y esa suciedad nos hacía cómplices de algo que solo nosotros conocíamos. Por varios meses supimos que cualquiera de esos encuentros nuestros a la hora más obscura del día podía ser el último. Recuerdo que en la montaña habían árboles con ramas de una frondosidad impresionante de los cuales siempre brotaba savia, recordandonos que la naturaleza redime. La vegetación era espesa, el deseo intenso y entre más subíamos, más olvidaba la masa nuestra existencia. Los amaneceres eran nuestros eslabones perdidos y la niebla de noche nos hacia guerreros, artistas y poetas. Ese era nuestro destino; el despertar de una poesía interna, tan propia, que una tarde nos vió llegar a la cima de la montaña y fue tan silenciosa que se hizo insoportable. Esa tarde tuviste que escoger y tus palabras salieron al rescate para prometerme una tierna separación y una fidelidad eterna.