Bill & Tony

Bill Burroughs and Antony Balch cut up on film.

Stranger Than

acrylic on index card with tape.

Gas

Russian gas mask on a fu dog... with dog skull.

Psychic TV

I'm taking the night off, so no new art tonight, but here's a couple of old videos from Psychic TV.

JIGSAW

UNCLEAN

Multi-Tasked

acrylic, gouache, pencil, brush pens on cardstock.

REvolted

The Creature From The Black Lagoon

Texarkana

She loves the High Life.

Gnashville

Red Reader

Zombies read too.

Gas, Gas, Gas

Today I bought a Russian gas mask for $11.

Flamenco

Master guitarist Vicente Gomez performs an Alegrias of his own composition.

Curtsy

Wondering Rose

Dinosauria, we

"Dinosauria, we"
by Charles Bukowski

The Haunt

The Messenger

The thing, he said, would come in the night at three
From the old churchyard on the hill below;
But crouching by an oak fire's wholesome glow,
I tried to tell myself it could not be.
Surely, I mused, it was pleasantry
Devised by one who did not truly know
The Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,
That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.
He had not meant it - no - but still I lit
Another lamp as starry Leo climbed
Out of the Seekonk, and a steeple chimed
Three - and the firelight faded, bit by bit.
Then at the door that cautious rattling came -
And the mad truth devoured me like a flame!

-- H. P. Lovecraft

Fear

The host, he says that all is well

And the fire-wood glow is bright;

The food has a warm and tempting smell,—

But on the window licks the night.

Pile on the logs... Give me your hands,

Friends! No,— it is not fright...

But hold me... somewhere I heard demands...

And on the window licks the night.

~ "Fear" by Hart Crane

The Wash

The Escapist

They used to call me an escape artist because I had an uncanny talent for sneaking quietly out of any party. The truth is this. I hate the goodbyes. The enforced niceties and final handshakes are unnecessary when you know you'll see that person again soon enough.
It's my Houdini act.
I have 100 ways to ninja out of your good time.

La Señora Muerte

Svengali

Interface

Strange Fruit

I'm painting. I'm not sure if I'll complete anything worth posting tonight, but I have a nice relaxing playlist. Here's one of the songs from what I'm listening to and also a sketch of Jeff Buckley I did a couple years ago.

This is Jeff Buckley singing Strange Fruit.

Legend of a Mind

"Legend of a Mind" - Moody Blues (1968)...

For Johnny Pole

FOR JOHNNY POLE, ON THE FORGOTTEN BEACH

by~ Anne Sexton ~

In his tenth July some instinct

taught him to arm the waiting wave,

a giant where its mouth hung open.

He rode on the lip that buoyed him there

and buckled him under. The beach was strung

with children paddling their ages in,

under the glare od noon chipping

its light out. He stood up, anonymous

and straight among them, between

their sand pails and nursery crafts.

The breakers cartwheeled in and over

to puddle their toes and test their perfect

skin. He was my brother, my small

Johnny brother, almost ten. We flopped

down upon a towel to grind the sand

under us and watched the Atlantic sea

move fire, like night sparklers;

and lost our weight in the festival

season. He dreamed, he said, to be

a man designed like a balanced wave...

how someday he would wait, giantand straight.

Johnny, your dream moves summersinside my mind.

He was tall and twenty that July,

but there was no balance to help;

only the shells came straight and even.

This was the first beach of assault;

the odor of death hung in the air

like rotting potatoes, the junkyard

of landing craft waited open and rusting.

The bodies were strung out as if they were

still reaching for each other, where they lay

to blacken, to burst through their perfect

skin. And Johnny Pole was one of them.

He gave in like a small wave, a sudden

hole in his belly and the years all gone

where the Pacific noon chipped its light out.

Like a bean bag, outflung, head loose

and anonymous, he lay. Did the sea move fire

for its battle season? Does he lie there

forever, where his rifle waits, giant

and straight?...I think you die again

and live again,

Johnny, each summer that moves inside

my mind.

Superduper

Tædium Vitae

Tædium Vitae

To stab my youth with desperate knife, to wear 
This paltry age’s gaudy livery, 
To let each base hand filch my treasury,
To mesh my soul within a woman’s hair,
And be mere Fortune’s lackeyed groom,— I swear, 
I love it not! these things are less to me 
Than the thin foam that frets upon the sea,
Less than the thistle-down of summer air 
Which hath no seed: better to stand aloof
Far from these slanderous fools who mock my life 
Knowing me not, better the lowliest roof
Fit for the meanest hind to sojourn in,
Than to go back to that hoarse cave of strife
Where my white soul first kissed the mouth of sin.

~ Oscar Wilde

Xray

"Sometimes he wonders what zone of transit he himself was entering, sure that his own withdrawal was symptomatic not of a dormant schizophrenia, but of a careful preparation for a radically new environment, with its own internal landscape and logic, where old categories of thought would be merely an encumbrance."

(J.G. Ballard~ The Drowned World, 1962)

The Dance of the Seven Veils

King Herod frolics in Ken Russell's "Salome's Last Dance" based on the Oscar Wilde play ~1988

The Dance of the Seven Veils from Claude D'Anna's "Salome" ~1985