swedeheart

walked along the antipoetic wall...

it is easy to love fragments that have been on the way a long time...

feel the smell of truth...

the poem which is completely possible...*

*selected cryptic lines from 'Hommages' by Tomas TRANSTROMER (translated from the swedish by Robin Fulton)

swede abstraction

the detrital conflation of peeling paint and sprayed symbols, of pasted notices and torn images, of flaking glue and dried spit - presents an accumulative reading as complex as an archaeological dig, a vertical congregation of visual strife as dissonant as a Twombly passage...

["Turner, Monet, Twombly: Later Paintings" at the Moderna Museet, Stockholm  from October 8 to January 15, 2012]

bawlingbaldhead

I shout for more...

I holler and I roar... 

I yell in pain...

I cry in vain...  

only to reverberate against the intimate wall...  

     

doubledeergirls

large peartears of cherry drop from the honeyhalo...
the tieredtree sprouts from crossed twintrunks...
a pair of bambigirls reach for each other, eyes closed...
and stroke the grittymouth of the blankeyed stump...

ORFE

stain my walls with your pigmented disgorfement,
squirt and dribble your colourful orfeburst
all over my hard-edged sand-boxed  sprawl...
some will get it cleaned right off,
but some will always get orfe on it...

[HORFE bombs french and british capitals in loud and blinding erorfetions]

barcelona primitivo

doggy love...robot compatible...sign of the times?

even our pets have embraced machines intimately...are we to take heed of the oddness of animal behavior as a premonition of the earth-quaking seduction of artificial intelligence tapping into the power of LOVE??

[the graffiti in Barcelona rock!]

stick-it-to-me-ters

tiny stickers go on small surfaces to animate these otherwise banal meter boxes...
stickers attract more stickers and proportionately shrunken tags, and soon, voila, a self-contained site of colour and texture and self-expressionistic remains to brighten any meter-reader's day...

[Rue Vieille-du-Temple]

art-squeeze

around the side wall of an impeccably polished gallery showcasing soft-edgy and hip-weary contemporary chinese art is the most ferociously raw and haphazardly "collaborative" piece of exterior ooze...
the peeling paint, the almost unassuming tags, the anthropomorphic turd[??], the abstract black and white patches, the grit and the grime - all contribute to a visual palette exuding out of some primeval need to squeeze the ink out of pens, the paint out of brushes, the spray out of cans and make a mark, a gesture, a movement, to inform this bleary-eyed jaded crowded wilderness that is paris contemporary primitive...

[Rue du Poitou]

red 13

trapped behind 2 bars and glass, I thought a superhero had been captured and incarcerated under this most unpopular of numbers...
upon closer study, he appears to be a proud gladiator or centurion confined in a niche once reserved for a more sanctified figure, [although he does hold a cross to his chest and what seems to be a large black bird lies at his feet!], but now he stands guard within a blood-red wall on a street where nothing much happens...

[anybody knows whom he might represent?]

[13, rue Charles V]

from very tiny holes...

...issue the most minute and valiant of green life in the midst of the most busy of cities...
cracked star-burst black pearls of sidewalk aggregate somehow seeded, rain [and spit?]-dampened, germinated and sprouted underfoot on the mostly barren and aptly named Rue de la Perle...
a miniature collaborative art-nature installation that I almost stepped upon!

flatface

a stain on a curb, an arrangement of a few pebbles from the inner courtyard of the bibliothèque nationale and a character emerges... until the wetness evaporates and the eyes/nose/lips are all brushed back onto the pile below...