Archive for March, 2012

“Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”
-Arthur Rimbaud, Song of the Highest Tower, Collected Poems (1872).

Life brings us together, sometimes these gestures than make us feel like we’re breathing into each other are the ones we remember the most. A “sensation”… We don’t always remember things that happened, but we remember a sensation we felt deep in our guts. Depending on your sensitivity level, you will recall these sensations differently.

I’m amazed at how the human brain records certain things with so much precision. A touch, a smell, again… a sensation. Unfortunately, sometimes it can be a bad thing too… A rape victim will remember vividly these violent sensations, they’ll scar her/his skin so deeply that these touches will automatically be associate with disgust and pain. The trauma left in the body will turn into never healing bruises. This can happen also with a seemingly innocent bad experience, not necessarily something as brutal and horrifying as a rape. My point being; what we do, what we experience and the choices we make define us.

Let’s avoid inner bruises!

We should always be aware of each other. Treat each other’s body carefully and with respect, as if your partner’s body was a sanctuary. Not so many people have the luxury to explore their sexuality with carelessness and find themselves fully blossomed. To be a shameless “erotic” person with no restrictions or discomfort whatsoever, you truly need to have no care in the world. Be a bit of a gypsy… Or a libertine.

A sensation that comes from deep within our subconscious can be a feeling that reminds us how pleasant life is. It reminds us of our past loves and pleasures. Sometimes it can be something as simple as the smell of freshly cut grass in the summer’s morning…

I’ll close up with my favorite of them all, makes me feel like to go on an adventure where I’ll just walk aimlessly in nature;

“On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass :
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing :
But endless love will mount in my soul
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gypsy,
Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.”

Arthur Rimbaud, Sensation (March 1870.)

Till soon…
– D

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Here is another larger Illustration entitled “Opium, 9×12”.

They say Love can be as addictive as a drug. It impairs your judgment and reason, it provokes physical reactions you wouldn’t experience in normal times and it makes you dependent, vulnerable. It’s an intoxicating feeling, the passionated rush makes you feel ecstatic for a short period of time, while when the object of your love is missing it provokes great pain, as if one of your limbs was tore off. Just like a drug addiction you feel the desperate need to get more and more of that intoxicating embrace…
My characters seem to share the same addiction, they breath in each other’s soul, maybe until they both completely dry out. Or until they run out of Opium…

I’m just trying to be poetic…

I’ll wrap up on a little piece of Poe’s poem…

[…]
“Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought
To a fever by the moonbeam that hangs o’er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught
With more of sovereignty than ancient lore
Hath ever told – or is it of a thought
The unembodied essence, and no more
That with a quickening spell doth o’er us pass
As dew of the night time, o’er the summer grass?
[…]
Doth o’er us pass, when as th’ expanding eye
To the loved object – so the tear to the lid
Will start, which lately slept in apathy?
And yet it need not be – (that object) hid
From us in life – but common – which doth lie
Each hour before us – but then only bid
With a strange sound, as of a harpstring broken
T’ awake us – ‘Tis a symbol and a token -”

Till soon…
– D

Here is one of my latest Illustration, larger format (11×17″) entitled Thanatos. Today’s post features some poems extracts from Phillip Larkin on Eros and Thanatos; Love and Death.

Thanatos, in Greek mythology, was a personification of death. The brother of sleep, his touch was gentle unlike his blood craving sisters the Keres, responsible for slaughters and plagues. Again women always have the bad role! We blood thirsty creatures …

Now, I’d like to think of the girl on the drawing as Thanatos and the boy as Eros. Love and Death can be closely related as I developed it in a older post. The fear of loss, the fear of death, the lure of death. Love cannot exist without Death, they are both frightening but they’re a natural part of any human life. How ironic is it that “little death” (Petite mort) is a nickname for orgasm in French language?

Love is trying to conquer Death, but if her touch puts Eros in a infinite sleep, she can only let him embrace her. Immobile, she’s fighting her desire to love him back.
I really do like impossible love stories…

The cynical Phillip Larkin wrote some poems on Thanatos and Eros;

“We should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time […]

The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon… [..]

Pour away that youth…
Walk with the dead
For fear of death [..]

What will survive of us is love”

I really like that last part.
Till soon
D-

I have now a little over 200 Polaroids, ain’t that sweet? I started the series over a year ago now. The purpose of the series has always been to make as much as possible so they could fill up an entire wall…. The Polaroids work on their own or by small set, but when they all come together it becomes something new… It shall be like a waterfall of memories and fantasies! A dream within a dream…

Here is the official Polaroid N°200.

Here’s a contribution from one of my favorite author; Edgar Allan Poe…

“Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-

How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?”

Till soon…
-D

Here’s a set of 4, getting very close to 200 Polaroids!!! I added some more sci-fi element to these… I find it gives more to it.

Wicked Games

Women have always been stigmatized as “sorceress” or “Evil witches”. Women have been hunt down, tortured, for being “possessed” even beyond the XVII Century… Women have been closely associate with the Devil for they are “inconstant and complex”. That Stigma remains…

Nowadays it seems witches are merely a figment of our imagination, being cute on tv shows and sexy on Halloween night… But the reality is more complex than that…

The collective subconscious didn’t get rid of these wicked fantasies of “sorceress”, women are attributed a power of seduction than no man can resit (among many other things)… Men are merely dolls or “victims” in between our hands as they constantly fight back for their freedom in order not to get caught into our webs. However it seems to me that men are still predominantly the one pulling the strings when it comes to power, career and relationships. Quite an antipode I know…

As Malraux underlined it about Goya, for many men, woman remains “the descendant of the Genesis, the virtual witch, the possessed of an unknown world.” Eve enticed Adam to bite that damn apple and therefore provoked great suffering upon the human race. Isn’t that epic? When you look through history it’s incredible how men have simply been TERRIFIED of women. No wonder they’re still petrified in front of a confident and empowered woman.

I just think men attribute us way to much magical powers… I wish I could use this magic but without the all “Machiavellian” stigma attached to it.

Looks like my futuristic witch is enticing her boy via electricity and wire… Ain’t that alchemy!

till soon…

D-

I was recently really moved by a song from Bjork’s latest album which urge the listener to recognize the sacrifice made by women for the sake of Love.
It seems biology compels females to sacrifice; to protect their young, their lover… Women sacrifice a lot out of love, sometimes even their pride and dignity…

Where is the line between dominant and dominated? When do you lose respect for your partner? Why? Being submitted to your love’s desires can be very conflicting. The fear to loose the respect from your Lover is frightening.
Women had to be submissive to men’s will for centuries. And even today the freedom we gain remain very fragile. How many times do women have to take insults, demeaning remarks etc… from their partners and just take them in. Men don’t even realize how hurtful they can be, they just instinctively want to be the “dominant” one.

I strongly believe in mutual respect but it’s been proven challenging to obtain…

Some people are capable to make great sacrifices out of love, some people are not.
Being capable of sharing intimacy and thinking of someone other than yourself is a great challenge for some… while natural for others.

Women give a lot, they are capable of lowering their pride out of Love. They give, they follow around, they dedicate themselves entirely just to get a minimum of appreciation from their lover.
Some people just aren’t worth the sacrifice…

Here is the song. The Lyrics say it all…
Sacrifice

“Why can’t you give her room?
Respect her spatial needs.
I feel you compress her
Into a small space.

With clairvoyance,
She knew what you needed,
And she gave it to you.
Now her desires are repressed
Arrows in the flesh

When she found your love,
Her nature bowed her head
She surrendered,
She renounced the world for you,
Now she’s poisoned by demands
You cannot answer.

Why this sacrifice?
Now she regrets the whole thing,
A delayed reaction
When she left her craft voluntarily
For your nest, for your love.
Did you understand?

Appreciate,
Build a bridge to her.
Initiate a touch
Before it’s too late,
Say the words to her
That will make her shine.

Tell her that you love her.

Your generosity will show
In the volume of her glow.”

till soon…
-D