Category Archives: art

The Process – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 Lines – Discovery

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Image: ‘Vox Angelica’ by Max Ernst – artnet.com

“Painting is not for me either decorative amusement, or the plastic invention of felt reality; it must be every time: invention, discovery, revelation.”  Max Ernst

 

The Process

The giant bird and I became friends
though sometimes she left me alone far
from home and, no matter my peregrinations,
I was always only ever myself, discovery
was never the end it was the process.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under art, challenge, Five Lines, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem, quote

The One Hidden – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetic Pop Art

At dVerse Poets Victoria has invited us to take Pop Art as inspiration for a poem.

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Image: ‘In Search Of History’ Alexander Kosolapov, 1982 – Sotsart

Note: SOTS-ART Soviet political art, a journey friend of Pop Art which, due to Soviet censorship of the 1970s – 80s, was mostly underground work.

 

“I’m afraid that if you look at a thing long enough, it loses all of its meaning.”  Andy Warhol

The One Hidden

The conspiracy of words and time
melds colour to a constancy of grey
like ever present winter clouds
brooding over truth
whatever that might be,
and indeed,
that is the question Pilate asked
non the wiser for a reply,
that certainty as a non-event is,
in truth, a certainty,
where facts like curbs
eventually erode and fritter
revealing the naked and bold-faced
lies of our fathers,
a constructed history by numbers,
O how we walked those grey blocks
seeking lucent hope,
just a glimmer of colour,
a taste of the real,
no, not that capitalist lie, freedom,
it is the one hidden in my breast.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under art, Free Verse, history, life, philosophy, poem, politics, prose, quote

The Meat – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Spontaneous – Word of the Day

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Photo: One segment of the Northcliffe Art Walk, sculptures in the bush, quite striking when you get such colour randomly appearing. We went on a whim.

 

“Why not seize the pleasure at once? How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation.!”  Jane Austen, Emma.

The Meat

All the grids of the world
only ever speak of disorganisation,
cages occasion freedom
while structure poses random,
so stand where you will
where you feel drawn,
the choice is yours,
but mark my words,
of segue, impulse and whim,
well, that’s where the meat is.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under art, bush walking, Country, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem, quote

Of Promise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Meet Jackie Hulbert

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Art Work: Jackie Hurlbert by permission, via dVerse Poets and Linda Lee Lyberg.

 

Of Promise

She, as many do,
was moving through the doors
of her life and not with ease
so much as a quiet confidence
that was easily torn at the edges
when things went wrong,
and, of course,
too quickly for it to be true
she would blame herself
often referring to a multitude
of lack by some
meaningless comparison;
she was puzzled at how others
would affirm her creative zest
and her beauty,
but when she looked in the mirror
she only saw and ordinary woman
with messy hair,
where others saw
a beautiful, wild garden
of promise.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

66 Comments

Filed under art, challenge, creativity, Free Verse, life, poem

Smudge – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Sunset – 5 Lines

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Smudge

They were all there, Durer, Monet, Picasso
and a host of others who carefully
constructed random reflections on canvas,
but God strode in and stole the show with
one esoteric smudge across the sky.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

32 Comments

Filed under art, Five Lines, Free Verse, life

Beautiful Again – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Spray – RDP Monday

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Photo: pixabay.com

Beautiful Again

Bricks thirsty
the building dejected, lonely,
divorced from the life once given
in architectural matrimony
a fidelity now forsaken as
adultery claims newer, younger designs,
so, she tries
and puts on some makeup
over the tired foundation
offending some with her
bold and gaudy style,
while others tut-tut
complaining that she hasn’t
done it right,
too random,
too modern,
reckless,
uncouth,
some smile warm, welcome smiles
and greet her as an old friend
refreshed, lively, and
beautiful again.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Note: I think I might be alone in the world but I applaud Graffiti, sanctioned or otherwise, I find art anarchy refreshing. But there is a distinction between graffiti and tagging. Tagging is simply names, numbers and codes for those claiming a tag challenge on public property and it is not art, whereas Graffiti is art.

Paul, pvcann.com

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Speak From Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: pixabay.com

If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.”  Émile Zola

 

Speak From Me

The inner dualities,
centuries old,
rage within,
threatening emptiness, nakedness,
sadness,
if I pick up my brush or my pen,
or maybe my spade,
my mind asks that striving question,
will it be profound?
Which is really a question of
will it matter?
Yet a more timid urge,
the one that seems less in the world,
at least, until the work is done,
is when the heart says,
speak from me.
There, at my very centre,
arises the profound,
my profound,
in all its authentic glory.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under art, creativity, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem, Uncategorized

Oracle of Love

Enigmatic – Word of the Day

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John Collier’s ‘The Delphic Oracle’ (1891) The Delphic Oracle were priestesses highly valued, who offered divination at the temples, including that of Apollo in the locale of Phocis at the foot of the south slope of Mt. Parnassos, in Greece. The Oracle would sit on a tripod over a fissure in the floor where vapours arose which induced trance and utterance.

 

Oracle of Love

There you sat,
midst the herbs and vapours,
in the place that caused you to sway and swoon,
to speak in ecstatic utterance,
bending your tongue in language unknown,
contorting, writhing,
while unveiling ancient truths,
as you divined that enigma of Delphi,
the oracle, that spoke of our undying love.
It was there you held me
priestess of love,
and I was overcome.

©Paul Vincent

 

Paul Cannon,

pvcann.com

18 Comments

Filed under art, life, love, Mythology, religion

Celebrating the Incomplete

Esthete -Word of the Day

Also spelt as Aesthete

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Image: thatcreativefeeling.com

Desiring to study the Way of Tea, Sen no Rikyu went to the tea-master Takeeno Joo who set Rikyu the task of tending the garden as a test. Rikyu cleaned to perfection, but before presenting his work to Joo, he shook a cherry tree, causing some blossom to fall to the ground. A little imperfection being the perfect ground. Thus began his journey into returning the tea ceremony and everything associated to its former simplicity.

It is said that the Japanese revere Rikyu as one who understood the aesthetic known as wabi-sabi. Wabi-sabi emerged in the 15th century as a reaction to the aesthetic of very formal and ornate and extravagant art and design of that time. Wabi-sabi is “focussed on the acceptance of impermanence or transcience.” It speaks of “a readiness to accept things as they are.” Or, finding the beauty within imperfections.

Wabi symbolises rustic beauty and quietness, simplicity and quietness. It can also refer to flaws, quirks and abnormalities that occur during production, e.g. pottery, or, as in the case of Rikyu, the blossom disrupting the otherwise perfect garden.

Sabi refers to things whose beauty can only come with age, like weathered timber, green copper, rusted tin. Sabi is said to evoke a sombre feeling very much like autumn.

Wabi-sabi is said to be honest, authentic, organic, modest, incomplete, and where nature, even nature’s corosive power, is celebrated.

Ref: britannica.com, dt.pepperdine.edu (Richard Martin).

How refreshing! I really warm to this aesthetic, and how much we need to embrace it today. Wabi-sabi simplicity could be the antidote to our materialistic, throw-away, plasticised way of living. An acceptance of life as it is. More than cloth bags and organic soap (important as these things are) we/all living things need a modern aesthetic equivalent to wabi-sabi. More imperfection and less sculptured fruit and veg. More authenticity and less keeping up with the Jones’. More incomplete, and evoking a sense of the real. Celebrating nature by engaging nature’s needs. Being organic in every way from relationships, to lifestyle, to purchasing. Accepting things as they are from people to the cosmos. Living with our flaws (shadow aware). How refreshing. I yearn for a bit of Rikyu in all of us.

 

I Love the Flaw in You

Dead center,
on the mantlepiece,
my truest work
as yet.

Soft clay now hard as nails,
its beauty is its cleft.
Its radiance not celadon,
a muddy glaze its skin.

She sits proudly among the celebrated,
offended by their pretence –
perfect, slick, and mass produced,
with images of empire now dead.

As I contemplate my minimum,
I know she goes with me.
The others to the Op-Shop,
or some other recycle path.

This ugly piece of earth,
this imperfect lustred pot,
speaks, shouts, to me of real life,
and how to cope with love.

©Paul Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

 

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Filed under art, environment, history, life, mindfulness, minimalism, nature, Philosophy/Theology, poetry, quote

That Dress

Amorous – Word of the Day

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‘The Kiss’ by Gustave Klimt (1862 – 1918), born in Austria, Klimt was part of an era of radical social and cultural challenge, as an artist he was deeply influenced by Freud and became a symbolist painter, though far from subtle. His paintings are deeply erotic. He was a founder of the Vienna Secession movement which was ecclectice – it had no proclaimed style but rather welcomed all to coexist. He was considered ahead of his time.

 

That Dress

So still, the noise has gone, replaced by the beating pulse in my temples. It’s so warm in here, I loosen my tie, anticipation, my breathing shallow. A smile creases my lips. Wow, that dress, a cliche no more. Black, which looks stunning against your pale , soft skin. That alluring dip draws my eyes to the equally glorious rise, how a necklace would grace that. A length to show off your legs … I take your hand, so cool compared to mine. Time is warped, everything a blur, the air is electric, but you say nothing. I’m shaking inside as I reach out and touch your dress, a subtle swish as I graze the fabric. My heart leaps, dizzying, a kiss, surely yes …

“Can I help you sir?” “Wha … What?” I stutter. Jolted, stung, it wasn’t you. Who? My hand leaves yours, a smear of sweat remains, so hot in here. “Can I help you sir?” I blankly stare. “Are you looking for a gift for someone, your wife perhaps?” Noise rushing in, lights, sounds, movement, confused I shake my head. My ardour dampened, I leave the dun, and muted mannequin and retreat, but oh my, that dress.

©Paul Cannon

 

Donna Summer “I Feel Love”

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

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