3 Minutes Sand Runs Out

-Paul Richmond

The Egg Came First

- Pete Smolenski
From his website.

Introducing: Peter Smolenski

I have a friend Dimitri (who has a poem on this blog) and I sometimes go to his house to play games. In his kitchen there is this very cool piece of art hanging on the wall: a bright, abstract, psychedelic image. I asked, "Hey, who made that? It's very cool," and Dimitri told me it was a friend of his and his family, Pete Smolenski.

So I logged that in my brain like I do with all sorts of random bits of information. And then I was looking at the 'People you might know' section of Facebook a little while ago, and someone's profile picture was this really great looking psychedelic image, and I thought, "hey that looks like Pete Smolenski's work." Turns out it was his FB profile.

I contacted him, and he agreed to let me feature some of his work here. I looked at his site, and got to see a lot of great art.

It all happened how I like things to happen: person to person, simple and easy, and in the community.

Links:
Peter Smolenski Abstract Art - His website
Abstract Art World - A global community of abstract artists

LIE DOWN IN THE LIGHT

2009, 18 X 24 INCHES

SILICA AND URETHANE ON LINEN

by Sean Greene

"This is like one of Sean's other paintings I saw in person at A.P.E. Gallery. They're even better in person." - Jim DuBois

Bamboo

- embroidery floss on canvas

by Myrrh Brooks

Aimlessness

Aimlessness
    sets in,
    like the gangrene
      of
      the corporate world.

I wander away
    out the back door
    of
      a busy office.


-Jim DuBois
May 3, 2000

CALLIGRAPH 2

2008, 54 X 90 INCHES

SILICA AND URETHANE ON CANVAS

by Sean Greene

Introducing: Sean Greene

Sean works for a friend of mine, as a painter, so I often ran into him when he was working there, as well as random times in town at things he was painting, like the new State Street store and Thornes. In those short conversations I learned that he made art, and I became interested in seeing it. I finally got to, the other day at the A.P.E. Gallery on main street. I thought his paintings were really good and interesting. Lots of clear lines and bright colors. I would buy a painting, if I had the money. One last thing from me about Sean: he is also a very friendly guy.

From his website:

"My paintings are rooted in color. Color intervals provoke the fleeting sensations of light animating a space. Bands of color become paths of light, traces of motion that lead the eye through an illusionistic space and around a tactile surface. These bands evoke written languages like Arabic or graffiti-- illegible but loaded with expressions of balance or instability, variation of speed, entanglement, congestion or comfort, fluidity or angularity."

Links:
His website

Stones

acrylic on canvas

Introducing: Myrrh Brooks

Yay! Myrrh has agreed to let me show some of her art here!

I met Myrrh 16 or so years ago, because I am friends with her father, Trevor the games man. Over the years me and Myrrh have had a lot in common, and sometimes even done stuff together. A sampler: we like to make art, we like to dance the Lindy Hop, we like Trevor. She lived in Northampton for a while, and I enjoyed that. Last year I went to her wedding to Joe Brooks. It was in a beautiful refinished barn in Amherst, MA.

Myrrh is one of those people who is constantly creating things and in a variety of mediums. I like that about her. You can't really capture the essence of a creative person in a blog post, or in a photo of their work, but you can give clues to who they are. Sometimes you can only indicate that they are cool, and let people discover on their own. Her website only hints at how creative she is.

Links:
Her Website, Myrrhmade.com
Her blog

She Said You Never Talk To Me

They hadn't seen each other all day
They sat together
Started to talk
To share each other's day
He started to talk about something he'd like to do
She said that she doubted he would do it
He recalled the times in the past when he had
She remarked they were fewer and far between
He thought about it
He stated he thought that wasn't true

He said he counted 5 times
That he had
She says She remembers 3 times
He gave examples of the 5
She said you like to exaggerate everything
With that
He said it was at least 7 times
She said let's call it 4 and drop it
It seemed on every sentence
She was doubtful
Correcting
He was trying to talk about his feelings
The numbers were meaningless
He fell silent
She said you never talk to me


-Paul Richmond
From "...Ready or Not - Living in the Break Down Lane"

Five Above

Detail of above work:

Do You Swear?

Do you swear?
To tell the truth
The whole truth
Nothing but the truth
So help you god

Our first leader
George Washington
Chopped down a cherry tree
And when he was asked
He couldn't tell a lie
He said he did it
I am supposed to use that as an example
Of a great leader's character
To never tell a lie
Yet he chopped down the cherry tree
A source of food
For no reason

No reason was ever given
Just that he couldn't lie
So he admitted doing it
Why?
He didn't like cherries?
What's not to like about cherries?
I think it was the first sign of aggression
He let it out by attacking the environment
He just didn't lie about it

Now when out modern leaders
Do their version of chopping down the cherry tree
They just lie
People know they chopped down the cherry tree

Out modern leaders respond
There was never a tree there

It's established there was a tree
They knew nothing about it

They then give their possible scenarios
The tree must have fallen over by itself
Maybe due to a powerful wind

When evidence of wood chips are found
Where the tree used to be
They respond
We have to do something about those pesky beavers

They are informed that all the beavers have died
Suddenly a boy scout is arrested
Said to have been on drugs
Searching his room
It is reported he listened to music about Satan

Notes were found, scribbled
On hundreds of girl-scout cookie boxes
From the girl-scout who sold him the cookies

The notes were
Rejections of his pleas
For her to be his cookie

It is reported we have caught
The Terrorist

After hearing this on the news
I am supposed to feel relieved
The problem has been solved
The guilty have been caught
And will be punished

The next day
Another tree is found missing

Do you swear?
To tell the truth
The whole truth
Nothing but the truth
So help you god


-Paul Richmond
From "...Ready or Not - Living in the Break Down Lane"

After August

Detail of the above work:


-by Stephanie Gerolimatos

From Jim:
"I just got to browse through Stephanie's work for images to display here, and I was inspired and excited again by the coolness of what she has made. Go visit her website yourself to see more."

Aren't You Interested?

He said Hi
She said try someone else
He said my name is Love
She said I have heard it before
He said this time it is real
She said I heard that before too
He said I know you're the one
She said for what
He said for walking into sunsets
She said it feels like it's going to rain
He said I have an umbrella
She said it's not big enough for both of us
He said I'll use it to cover you
She said I don't want to feel guilty
He said it was nice talking to you
She said what's the matter
Aren't you interested?


-Paul Richmond
from his book "Ready or Not - Living in the Break Down Lane"

Introducing: Paul Richmond

Yesterday, I went to read some poems at the Florence Poets Society's annual poetry festival. I was nervous but think it went well. There was this guy listening at the back, and my friend Brett waved to him and said hi and told me that the guy was a juggler.

It turns out he is also a poet. We said hi and traded books of poetry after the festival. I went home and read his book that night and was impressed. What I liked most about his writing was the genuineness and realness. I could tell that there was a unique human mind at work, and I think that's important in art.

He agreed to let me put some poems on here.

Links:
Human Error Publishing - His website
A book of his poetry on Lulu.com

Sunflower

"As summer is slipping by.... I took this picture wanting to remember the bright colors of summer and the warmth that sunflowers bring, nestled in the bluest of blue skies!"

-Selena Dittberner

Untitled Poem by John Bauman

Let me put it to you like this.
It’s like this:
      (                  )

(oh, yeah. Insert a goofy sound above)

Peepers?
They put it like this:
      (                  )

(I mean “peep, peep, peep…”)

You, there!
You have to go through time
      …and, uh, space.
You have to.
No, I don’t.
I can just be here and now.
There’s no time like the present,
      for existing.
Life is cool!

What’s your name?

Um…to make a long story short:
      I was born, I did a bunch of things
      and I’m here now.


-John Bauman

Cairn of broken sticks

"Building this was exciting. It looked like a nest at first but I had this idea of an egg-shape. You can see it from the road nearby if you are lucky and perceptive and I think that if you are lucky and perceptive there should be something mysterious and a little grand waiting for you to discover. I like the moment when I see something beautiful and so strangely organized that you wonder, 'what did this? it must have been some crazy guy!' In a way I guess I am hoping that when other humans see it it may cause them to think, 'some human did that, definitely, only people are that cool... I'm a person.' I also like that this particular work had anthropomorphic overtones, it looks like a witness or a guardian."

-Jeremiah Griswold

Ninja star ferns

"So I was thinking, 'I gotta get out of my head and into my hands.' If you know what I mean. I was walking in the woods a lot anyway. This was the stuff, this was the place, the stream was filled to overflowing and rushing on by. 'I like whirlpools,' never entered my head. Its a little weird how I'm guided by whatever it is, but I have yet to actually plan any of this."

- Jeremiah Griswold

Whirlpool ferns coming from the tree

"I think I could have done more with this, I guess there is still time. I actually like working with stuff that goes away, sometimes very quickly. Seeing what I can do with what's available. I played a little with texture and color here. It was raining like hell at the time. I saw this tree which had fallen across the stream in the winter and there was this perfect yoda-hut hole in the base of it. I have been thinking about decay a lot recently, and life. The tree had died but there were these mushrooms growing out of it and beetles eating the bark, it was going back into the ground and so I guess I just went with that."

- Jeremiah Griswold

Random Access

He watched his own enormous fingers
through a magnifying lens
as they sewed,
sewed, in morning light
stitches even-spaced and fine.
One by one each little square of fabric
took its place within his quilt.

Afternoons, in a darker room,
he wrote instructions for computers
                If cursor within area numerically defined
                                then show text, “Which color?”
                                else if p = q
                                                beep
                                else, nothing
                End if.
flawless labyrinths of logic
encoded in a language he had learned
that freed him from an office man’s routine.

The pattern of the quilt equaled the pattern of his mind.
He wondered if, night after night,
you slept under his intelligent design
you could navigate your life
edit and undo
change the hue of any pixel you disliked
because you had been wrapped in random access
all the time you dreamed.


- Ron McAdow

Music House

After an unthinkable calamity befell him
the forest closed in.
Animals stared through his windows.
Turkey, woodchuck, raccoon, squirrels, deer.
A bear.

To avoid their black-eyed gaze
he shifted every inside wall.
He spread the hidden space—
the house's vacant shell.
He boxed the windows,
made a hatch,
installed a ladder.
His headlamp darted
as he scrambled up and down.

Between the walls he wired a squad of speakers
to fill the place with Berlioz and Bach
On the outside of the inner wall
he penciled a chronology of fire, fuel, physics—
a labyrinth in cursive,
vine-like strands of science,
weapons, transportation.

His branching maze of technological advance
reached the time in which he wrote
and proceeded on past digital
into a holographic future he foresaw
in which meaning is set down in patterns
like vast arrays of crescent shadows on a pebble beach
or galaxies of stars.


As music floated that idea
he painted, on the inner surface of the outer wall,
hungry people at an endless table—
it went all around the house and joined itself.
His characters compared their histories of love—
the strongest agitations of their hearts
                crushes and rejections,
                lust and fear.
He drew, year after year,
gestures and expressions
and laid on color
until, somehow, he found his labor done.

He returned the inner walls to their original positions.
He looked out his windows
                addressed the animals
                repelled the forest
                invited visitors
                listened to them talk
                listened to music
                listened to rain.
As visitors talked, he watched and listened.


-Ron McAdow

Introducing: Ron McAdow

I went to a Montessori Junior High school, and Ron McAdow was my teacher. I remember him as a guy who liked nature, wrote and was generally friendly. Back then, I read this novel he wrote/was writing, called "Good Medicine". The only thing I recall about it now is that there was the discovery of popcorn in it.

These days Ron is a poet, and conserving land via the Sudbury Valley Trustees. I learned those things through the internet. Also, we are friends on Facebook.

I think it's funny how time and life work, like these streams that divide and sometimes come back together and sometimes don't, but it's really hard to say where they will or won't end up. And one day a piece of the past comes flowing back to you, and the thing that was hard to realize until that moment is that the piece has been on its own adventure, and moving forward, just as you have.

Links:
Ron McAdow Poems
Sudbury Valley Trustees

In the Winter, I Saw Ducks

I hear the unceasing hum
of the traffic in the distance;

Everyone is rushing to get somewhere
and not spending much time
being anywhere.

In the winter, I saw ducks
swimming on an icy stream,
dipping their heads down into the water
to eat, like they always do.

I imagine the people turning off their cars
and placidly floating along like ducks
on the currents of life,
not controlled by those currents
and not resisting them either.


-Jim DuBois

Three short poems by John Bauman

1)
It’s an all out, blow out, blitz!
Consumer bonanza extravaganza!
Come on in, we got some great deals!

Um…later.
Like never.


2)
The freezing rain tapped gently on the ground in the night.
I thought it was the cat.


3)
Bad hair day.
Fuckin’ wind.


-John Bauman

Introducing: Stephanie Gerolimatos

I was in the Forbes Library one day, looking for a video to watch, and I walked through the Hosmer Gallery. I was attracted and inspired by these bright paintings which looked like they had been ripped in the middle, maybe by wolverine claws, or some alien encounter or something. They were very cool because they were a combination of paint and other things like cloth that added a 3D effect. I looked at the artitst's name, and became friends on Facebook, because I liked her art so much.

From her website:

First and foremost, I love the materials I use. Whether it's paint, wax, twine, nails, eggshells, feathers, or plexiglass, each is chosen for a particular sensory response it provides. Sometimes the response is due to visual cues. Often, it is the tactile quality of the substance or object that appeals to me: plastic, flexible, rough, smooth, cold, hard, soft. These sensations elicit associations and memories. The reaction is personal, based on an individual's history. Familiarity has the power to make us feel. It can bring comfort as easily as it can cause pain. Nails are cold, hard and sharp. Their primary function is to hold things together, but they also puncture, tear and scratch. Notches cut into a surface signify the passing of time, ageing, damage, a record of occurrence.

Her website

World Time

"Contemporary environmental art wall work, made from found plastic objects, assembled behind perspex. Semi-abstract/landscape, recycled art created from plastics collected from Australian beaches."

Website

- John Dahlsen

Introducing: Karen Dolmanisth & "Immanent and Transcending Circles of Time"

I went down to The Canal Gallery in Holyoke a bunch of years ago, and there was this incredible, world-like installation on a large open floor. It was like wandering in a dream made of bits of glass and sand and old wooden things and lots of stuff hanging from the ceiling. Really. I was awed. I felt that I wanted to know who lived there, like they were a wise alien race from a science fiction story. No description or picture really can convey enough, but they show a little bit what it was like. The installation was called "Immanent and Transcending Circles of Time" and it was by Karen Dolmanisth. I was so impressed and inspired I and will always remember it. It was the kind of art you wish you could make, and are really glad that someone did. If you can go see an installation of hers, go see it.

Now I am Facebook friends with her, and she said I could post some pictures here. The ones shown are of "Immanent and Transcending Circles of Time".

Links:
Her website
Her bio and another website
More photos of "Immanent and Transcending Circles of Time" from her Flickr stream

"Blue Rope"

"Contemporary environmental art wall work, made from found plastic objects, assembled behind perspex. Abstract recycled art created from plastics collected from Australian beaches." Read more about this art

- John Dahlsen

Introducing: John Dahlsen

From me:

John is someone who is following me on Twitter, and I am following him. Twitter is an interesting new thing I am experimenting with. So far I have seen some new art by new artists, and read a lot of tech articles. Anyway, I really like John's art, and especially that it features lots of recycled stuff, so I asked him if I could put up some on this blog.

From his website:

Environmental art, recycled art,contemporary environmental landscapes and seascapes, abstract paintings, installation art and public art, form the multidisciplined art of John Dahlsen. He was the winner of the prestigious Wynne Prize, Australia's oldest art Award at the Art Gallery of New South Wales in 2000.
As a contemporary artist, based in Byron Bay, this Australian artist has won numerous awards as an environmental artist and for his installation art, abstract drawings, abstract paintings, contemporary environmental landscapes and seascapes, and found object art. His contemporary art work is viewed as being highly collectable.

Links:
John's website

The Storm

One day the storm came around here,
      and we called it…
      rain.
And the rain fell
      hard and heavy.
And I thanked God
      that I had my safe haven
      with 4 wheels
      to traverse the road.
All around me is rain
      drenching,
      soaking,
      buckets
      of rain,
      wet,
      wet,
      wet,
      wetness,
      but not inside here.
Man, it’s nice and dry
      in here,
      and wet
      everywhere out there.
And I drove my safe haven
      through the rain
      back home,
      and we called it…
      a car.


-John Bauman

Smith College Falls, Sunset

-Charlie Hertan

49 y.o. DWM Seeks Good Time

When we first met,
I dreamt your ex urgently sought my advice.
His divorce pad well-furnished, but
out in the field with no roof or walls.
I pitied him, heard a faint whisper:
First winter winds.
Clutching objects intently,
he didn’t know what went wrong.
How to please you, or how he got there,
How he slept while Isolation,
the sky-dwelling termite,
ate the house top down
left sound foundations without warmth or shelter
(no place to live, really).
Great or lesser men might snap,
He sought other pilgrims at side street
cafes.

Alone again, I build small pagodas daily.
Miniature Lyceums for condemned slack beasts.
Cast swine at pearls; watch them roll, snort and rattle,
restless as beauty imploding.
A gay friend says, “be patient my love”.
His the erotic voice of reason.
Love is just around the corner, but wet,
waiting lacks resilience.
Like Lorca’s nerdy twin on Facebook,
Dispossessed of the oozy machismo which
transmutes despair into love scent,
I fall flat, lie guilty of want, languish in chat rooms
where lust seeks crass or finer bottles,
in Persian chambers where Rumi stayed when The Other stood him up.
Eros turned inward is vaguely suspect; still--
With his luck, no doubt he fucked the whole harem.


- Charlie Hertan

Introducing: Charlie Hertan

From me:

Charlie is an interesting guy I met through Robby Roiter one night at least 10 years ago at fire and water. He is very creative: writes poetry, dances, and takes photos. Also, I have heard he plays chess very well, and just released a book about chess. Other things to mention are that his mom was a good poet and he has put out a book of her poems, and he made a peace calendar.

He also sells coins, and once we lived together and I bought some interesting coins from him which I still have, including a junk "piece of eight", which is very cool.

From his website:

"Originally from New Jersey, I moved to the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts in 1996. A therapist, writer and numismatist, I didn’t take up serious photography until my 40's, inspired by hiking the many secluded lakes, hills and woodlands near my home. Inspired by my late mother, West Virginia poet and visual artist Lynn Kernan, the quest to illuminate the beauty in nature, life, and the human spirit is the driving force behind my work."

Link:
His photography website

Introducing: Kathy Ruseckas

A few weeks ago I went up to Leyden with Guy, Selena, Brett and Jenny, to do some paste-painting* for Jenny & Brett's wedding. Kathy is Guy and Brett's mom, and she taught us how to do the painting. While I was there I got to see lots of the art Kathy has made, and I enjoyed it. She had a lot of photographs framed by paste painted paper.

---

* Paste painting is where you mix some paint into a some paste and then put it on wet paper, and make designs in it.

Introducing: Leah Moses

I met Leah because I know her boyfriend Dave, and I think I met him because he lived at Sky's apartment. Anyway, I discovered that Leah makes interesting art, because I saw it hanging up at her house one time when I was there and asked about it.

Link:
Her website

Harder than it Sounds (Nov 25, 2008)

It's harder than it sounds
to stop dwelling
on what has been
and what may be
and what mighta been.

-Jim DuBois

A trilogy of Winter Poems

1) Welcome to fucking winter.
Fuck!!!

2) The incessant falling snow.
The long, long drive home.
Fuck!
(true story)

3) Today’s forecast:
It will be very cold.
Have a nice day!


- John Bauman

low winter sun strikes
Catalinas tops glow red
saguaro desert


-Marsden P. Griswold

Introducing: Marsden P Griswold

Marsden, also known as Denny, or Jeremiah's dad to me for much of my childhood. I haven't seen him in a while, but have had some contact through Facebook lately. What I remember about him is childhood things like him picking up Jeremiah from my house, or being at school picnics and so forth. He always seemed knowledgable and intelligent to me.

I didn't know that Denny took photos or wrote Haiku, but now I do.

Hero

I’m a hero in my own story,
A legend in my own mind,
A God in my own Universe,
An overgrown kid drinking cold coffee
And watching television


- Dimitri Oram

Oh, those Chapter Twenty lines!

Oh, those Chapter Twenty lines!
Those ancient Lao Tzu syllables!
For I
Other people have ambition and desire.
My only desire is to never be tortured by desire!
Other folk find value in industry and imagination.
I just want to sit and watch,
A small roof,
A little garden, the postman,
And much time.
Why am I so persecuted?
No other heeds the mysteries,
They only hear the voices of their
Dearly dead ancestors saying
"You must!"
"If you don't it will be a waste of your life!!"
But True Nature never allows waste.
Even the rotten and the damned,
Nourish the groundswell of honest love.
Even waste is not waste.
Waste is the birthplace of the ten thousand things
And everybody hates it.
This is a problem.
We are all trying to grow flowers
On the dry slab of ambition.


-Jeremiah Griswold

Perfect and Magical

"I took these pictures today, while it was snowing and the sun was trying to peek through the clouds. It was so beautiful! I love when it snows like that, each snow flake is so perfect and magical." [12/23/2008]

- Selena Dittberner