CuObCiKns

While developing film recently, or more accurately “downloading” photos from Trellis’ digital camera that she took with her all over Europe (sweet girl), we came across this blurry photo. Fascinatingly framed, it seems that it was an accident, possibly taken when Trellis was attempting to turn on her camera while holding a warm Belgian waffle in the other. Inadvertently, as one does, she has created ART.

What is he thinking? He’s contemplating the object in front of him. I have been in a similar situation many times. Sometimes something is right in front of my face, yet it remains diffuse, intangible. This object confounds him in much the same way. Is it a cluster of grapes? An ornamental brooch?

I call these “Curious Objects Circumventing Knowledge”. These “CuObCiKns” can be downright frustrating. Sometimes, as with this fellow, you are close to grasping them, yet you cannot get a hold. The effect is further enhanced by the blurriness of the image and its haphazard framing, leaving the viewer unsure, offguard. We are unsettled, seeing a moment ethereal and passing, a gaze that could easily be ignored, but we are in the right moment at the right time to be its clandestine recipient; we are almost undercover, seeing something we perhaps should not have been witness to yet strangely drawn to it, moth-like.

What an enticing photo. My daughter is inadvertently an artist. Sometimes, as Trellis proves, even seeming accidents can prove fruitful and give us food for thought. I’ll continue contemplating this one. It’s tantalizing.

But, Wait.....

Just a quick note to tell you I haven't forgotten about you. The past months have been ripe with fecundity.

My daughter, Trellis, left me to go on her Junior semester abroad, leaving me unable to type for myself. She's back now, and full of wonderful photos she took with me in mind. I am almost dumbstruck at the beauty. It brings back memories of my own delicious trips to Europe, during which I began to caress experience while letting innocence drip quietly away. Ah, youth.

My wife has been no help whatsoever, training her new secretary, Ms. Nold. She is quite demanding, my wife, and brooks no nonsense. Ms. Nold seems to embrace this difficulty,, her face shining each time she is upbraided with a look that sometimes borders on the spiritual. My wife has a talent with severe women. It's her particular gift.

I must close, as Trellis is leaving for a research trip to the local library, but fear not! I will be back soon to expose more.

Ah, Youth

Ah, lovely reader (or (s) may I dare hope?), I see I have inveigled you to follow along with my journey into the hidden in art! Joyousness abounds.
Today I'd like to speak with you (not to you, for I imagine this as a dialogue, albeit one where I may moderate who hears you, YET a dialogue nonetheless) about my process in museum going, for if we are to have a fruitful relationship, you must trust my eye(s).

Recently, during a recent sojourn to a local museum recently, I came across this arresting figure of a youth:



"Charming!", I thought, noticing his insouciance, his devil-may-care, his gaiety transmitting to me down through the centuries. This male nude by Aspeti beckons us to hear what he hears. "What is that you are whispering?" he says. "Lol" perhaps is the next morsel to come to his lips, charmed by the words the seducer is whispering in his ear. We, the viewers, are so enticed that we are whisked to his side, around to where he is listening, to perhaps catch a tintinnabulous phrase or low whispered "meet me in 15 minutes...alone", and with what are we greeted?



This! Glorious! View! You must almost AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THE BEAUTY! Now, the sun is shining toward us, framing the true drama. Witness the muscles, roiling like the waves on the sea, the voluptuous back inviting comparisons to hillsides in Tuscany! What rivers are there to explore? What valleys yet to be sown with seeds? What crops could burst forth from these fertile fields? Forgive me if I have carried metaphor to the breaking point, but the sun (the sun!) is illuminating the discovery itself, a shining aureole to the hidden treasure, its light seeming to emanate from the piece itself. And what a fine piece it is. A fine, fine piece. The eye is drawn to the focal point, the dual hillocks from which the further fields undulate. It is no accident that the sun seems to light from this very center, taking its own energy from the compact strength of the artist's most life-like centerpiece. And this is to say nothing of the golden color of the thighs, reminding us that true human strength is more precious than gold. And like gold, it beckons you to touch, but you daren't, knowing that a touch would surely never be enough to satisfy the hunger that such booty engenders. Too true.

That, and there is a guard nearby, to say nothing of your wife, who seems unnaturally transfixed by the nearby simulacrum of a bathing nymph.

So, dear reader, I invite you to come with me on this journey, as we spin and directly gaze at the hidden, to the places unjustly turned towards the wall, the places like those above, illuminated by powerful Apollo on his chariot of truth. May the ride be worthy and the fruit be abundant.

Welcome!

Dear and Gentle Reader,

It has been for sometime that I have yearned to probe that cyber space, to reach in and touch the celestial web that connects our global sphere in infinite communication. It is my sincere hope and wish that my humble opinions on a subject near and dear to me (namely, art) will engender the fecund discussion I am so privileged to ponder whenever I peruse the posted pages of the proletarian populace.

Oh, quel humanité! It is in this, the most democratic of publishing venues, having been unfairly blocked (is blocked a weighty enough word for the actions of an industry that has kept me outside of its gates, stopping short only of dropping a fetid pig over its ramparts as was done at Carcassonne?!) from the more august avenues of tangible press, that I have chosen to share my ideas. I believe they are worthy of sharing; I have passion, drive, will, and not a little knowledge, therefore it is my sincere aspiration that you, too, will come to appreciate my subject, i.e. art. And not just any art, but a heretofore uncelebrated, overlooked, under-appreciated area of art. But do not mistake me: it is not a come-down, but rather a cutting edge! I stand with you, the breeze of the vanguard whistling past our ears and caressing our hair, as we stand hip to hip on the cliffs of self-publishing! Is your interest piqued? Are you on the edge of your seat?


For it is you, gentle reader, whom I most seek to impress, tantalize, tempt, try, toast, and touch. Will you allow me? To touch you? I hope so. I know that my personal proclivities in admiring art may be unique, but I hope you will arouse to my point of view, bring the back to the front, the unseen into the light. I hope to open a cavern which until now has been sealed, an area of art sadly, and unfortunately, off-limits. But no more!


Join me in the this space as we celebrate (with the typing assistance of my wife, Penumbra, and computer assistance of my daughter, Trellis) the most noble, firm, and neglected aspect of humanity. Onward and upwards!