Saturday, September 17, 2005

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Sold Painting: Kiss it Goodbye

Fortunately, the internet gallery I'm associated with, PaintingsDirect, notified me of the sale of another painting. That makes 3 this year. I assume lowering my prices instigated the sales. I'll be sending it to the office in New York today. I'm glad to see it go and at the same time feel attachment to it since I consider one of my better older works (1997).

This sale has retrieved a memory of an experience from the past. In 1984 I moved to New York. I had a car that was essentially in sound condition. Due to my almost desperate financial status I had to sell it for a few dollars to a junkyard in the Bronx. It had been vandalized, windows broken etc, and I had no funds to repair it. When I made it to the junkyard I started to relate my misgivings. The owner stopped me with, "Kiss it goodbye". I quit complaining and took my few dollars. I didnt purchase another car until 21 years later, this year.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Is the Sun in your heart?

the title comes from an idea in a book by a vietnamese monk im reading. its about mindfulness and the use of breathing to bring our attention into the moment. in a helpful way. he says he cured himself this way when doctors were unable to do the same for a long term health problem he suffered from. (Thich Nhat Hanh)

If its hard to feel the sun in your heart you easily can feel it on your skin here in Phoenix. I blended a shot of palms i took yesterday with another shot I took on a drive last winter. the fog i encountered was on the road from Tecate to Mexicali in Baja Norte.

Monday, September 05, 2005

2 poems

last year when i returned from mexico i began suffering with miserable prostatitis and sought solace reading some poetry and biographies of poets. i was interested in the life and relationship of james merrill and the poems of james shuyler. james shuyler spent the end of his life in chelsea (the hotel chelsea, i think). i worked for 13 years at Fashion Institute of Technology, 27th and 7th. it's just a few blocks from the hotel on 23rd street.

I was inspired to write some poems. here are a couple:

Cristina (Andrew Wyeth Painting)
by Charlos

Mudder, out you borned the Bronx
Toxic putang
Dem ugly weeds cuts you
Dey be mad cuz they aint upstate
On a hill under some
White girl's ass.

The campaign 2004
by Charlos

My friend left me high, in the clouds
Metaphor? no we were peaking
At kilamanjaro's summit
Wathching the candidate for high office
Smile, son at his side
Really? No we were at the convention
And his son was part of his body
Needing to be set free
Like a good joke
In front of thousands of delegates
Collectively crowing like as many birds passing
Closer Abuv abuv abuv
Away away
Testing, tap the mike in the big hall
Sun in the shadow of the candidate
He ought to be a winner, huh, big guy
Brrrrrr cold and dark night sky
With eyes to see it all over your head
Fast grab the penguin feather parkas
And race away on wings of those silly beasts
Away from a system whosun is
Not its center, something greater is
Concentrate and slowly fly away
From the flame like a protestant moth
Saying no to desire
Until you're weightless
in front of a blue moon