In this blog we will share with you our vision of beauty, balance, harmony.

As Mark Leach writes in his book Raw Colour with Pastels: “Sound is all around us, and it is musicians who refine that sound into something of beauty. As a painter, I have always felt that my purpose is to craft colour in a similar way, to see through the confusion and seek harmony and beauty.”

And we add: Words, fragments of sentences, spoken noise is all around us, and Ken arranges words in such a way as to capture beauty in the accidental, the ambient soundtrack of life.

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Sunset and Vine




 
Strawberry Fields (Diptych) 30 x 80 cm- sold





CHARLES BUKOWSKI MEMORIAL POEM

Shuffling across a cobbled courtyard in Baden-Baden,
a blanket draped over his bony, raised-to-the-ears
shoulders
by a Pre-Raphaelite angel named Steff—
merciful seraph—
a man always in slow-motion collapse,
shit-faced every day of his life yet able to focus
on his confession, philosophy, writerly addiction.
He was becoming who he was all the time.
That’s why he drank. A reason to celebrate.
An ode to order.
& writing was merely drinking
out of the ribbon and tap-tap of a Smith Corona.
Scribbling in the Valley for pennies on the dollar,
his share disbursed to liquor stores & sex-workers
where Hollywood Boulevard closes in on Vine
then misses it by a dog’s hair; this is
where our quest runs out of gas,” baby.”
Take note of skid marks, sprinkle of broken glass.
“It ain’t my accident. I just caused it.”
To wrap things up, a final word from our honored guest:
“It could be worse,” he croaks, guttural as a clogged drain,
popping open a can of brew—I never saw
him uglier or more persuasive—“we could run out of beer.”




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