Vale, Marianne...

"Will you take me across the channel,

London Bridge is falling down

Strange a woman tries to save

What a man will try to drown

And he’s the rain that they predicted,

It’s the forecast every time

The rose has died because you picked it

I believe that brandy’s mine

And all over the world

Strangers

Talk only about the weather

All over the world

It’s the same"

- Lyrics to Strange Weather, written by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan, 1987.

***

"I know I'm not young and I'm damaged," she wrote defiantly. "But I'm still pretty kind of funny."

- Marianne Faithfull, ironic till the very end. In youth, irony is an art... In old age it's a necessity. This quote was sourced from the BBC's comprehensive tribute.

I'm sad to report that Marianne Faithfull slipped away from us on January 31 of this year. Weirdly, I didn't find the news till yesterday, although I can't understand how I managed to miss it.

It seems like I had just blogged about her recently. So, the news hit hard. Marianne was a special  woman; sort of a triple goddess figure: a charming, gracious lady, a bawdy  broad, and, lastly, an enchanted little match girl. But, for those of us who more or less grew up with her, she was an invincible survivor. Throughout all of her trials and tribulations she remained strong, maintaining her dignity and a sense of humor. Oh, and she remained an unapologetic smoker, an outstanding feat of resilience these days.

As a performer she was unique; she had at least 3 incarnations. Marianne #1 had the clear-bell voice of an angel. Marianne #2 sang like a wildcat on the prowl. Marianne #3 was the world-weary chanteuse. She could've glammed it up with feathers and furs, but, she never needed to. She was the real deal.

And, we'll miss her.

(The lovely photo - inset right above - was taken by Bruce Weber in 1996 and can be found on MF's website, along with many other great shots.)

Vale, Sinéad!

Sorry, but I had to switch videos again! Just found: Sinéad & Roger Waters in a live performance of Water's "Mother" in Berlin. Note: this song is addictive. (I posted Water's newer, solo version here. It's odd, but I was a little snarky - okay, very snarky and I apologize - about Water's bad mother relationship at the time, but I notice I can sympathize with Sinéad's... Ah well, none of us aren't guilty of some sexism, right?)

Meanwhile, here's the missing video: My Lagan Love. Former previous tune: Moorlough Shore. Also, remember this collaboration?

***

This just found... on the lovely blog, Sophia's Mirror: Caoin na Sídhe - Keen of the Sídhe - A Tribute. Also, while there, read Emma's Invocation, from which the quote below was taken.

"We pray for all women who are suffering for their beliefs,

or because of the beliefs of others.

We pray for all women who are suffering for their ideals,

or for their dreams unable to be realized,

or for no other reason than that they are female.

We commend all these women to your grace, Blessed Shekinah,

may they find solace in the shadow of your shining wings."

***

"At the age of 15, her shoplifting and truancy led to her being placed for eighteen months in a Magdalene asylum called the Grianán Training Centre run by the Order of Our Lady of Charity. In some ways, she thrived there, especially in the development of her writing and music, but she also chafed under the imposed conformity. Unruly students there were sometimes sent to sleep in the adjoining nursing home, an experience of which she later commented, 'I have never - and probably will never - experience such panic and terror and agony over anything."

-Via the Wiki entry for Sinéad O'Connor.

I wasn't able to sleep at all last night. And, after I finally dealt with the morning routines and entered cyberspace I was immediately confronted with the news that Sinéad O'Connor has died...

Sinéad O'Connor was an artist's artist. Her intensity and her breathy voice with its dazzling range was sheer poetry and, for many of us, the first of its kind to emerge in the (late 20th Century) rock & roll world. Her technique gave international exposure to a lilting Celtic style -  as in the video above featuring the traditional song, Moorlough Shore - which would eventually become influential across many musical genres. Her popular hit "Nothing Compares 2 U" (originally written and performed by Prince) became solid gold in the music industry. (See the early live version below... impassioned to the degree of an alchemical combustion. Suggestion: watch it in full screen mode.)

I think she was a little scary to (even) me in those days. I sensed a sensitive woman whose calling in life, coupled with her spontaneous and quirky outspokenness, might bring her undeserved tragedy one day. And it did... the world, being what it was in those days... and, to some degree, still is. From the Guardian article:

"She became just as well known for her shaved head and outspoken views. Ripping up a picture of the pope created a huge backlash – there were death threats and radio boycotts. Frank Sinatra wished to “kick her ass”.

Many considered that O’Connor was vindicated by subsequent revelations about Vatican cover-ups of sex abuse scandals."

I think, like many an anguished artist, O'Connor had "the sight," but as in the lives of many artists around the world and across most periods of history, their vision is often confused with madness and cannot be tolerated within the context of the societal status quo then current.

Farewell, daughter of Brigid. Slán abhaile.

Sinéad & her son, Shawn

"But 56 is way, way too young to die. The millions who love you have been dreading this for, oh, three decades, even though you had a life force strong enough to power 50 lifetimes. I hovered for updates when you went missing in 2016; I read your aching, awful posts grieving your son Shane who died by suicide last year, only 17, the worst thing of all."

- From Michelle Griffin's touching tribute: "We needed you, Sinead, the crazy-brave anti-Barbie."

(If the singing bird has flown away, we've no one but ourselves to blame.)

Vale, O Queen!

 

Tina Turner, the Queen of Rock & Roll, died yesterday. She was a one-off and another powerful feminine force to be reckoned with. And, her voice - I can't imagine a world without that incredible voice. Rock on, Tina!

Tina & Bowie? Sublime.

"She and Bowie always had one of the most endearing rock-star friendships — they always brought out the weird in each other. They duetted on his strange Pepsi commercial, starring David as Dr. Frankenstein and Tina as the rock goddess in his laboratory, both singing on “Modern Love.” They also duetted on a weirdly touching synth-reggae version of “Tonight” in 1984, about lovers separated by death, their voices meshing for the payoff lines “I will love you till I die/I will see you in the sky/Tonight.”

- Via the Rolling Stone tribute: We’ll Never Live in a World Without Tina Turner. The Pepsi commercial can be found here.

Conjuring up David (#2) (New: 2/27/23)

 

"I will sit right down

Waiting for the gift of sound and vision

And I will sing

Waiting for the gift of sound and vision

Drifting into my solitude

Over my head

Don't you wonder sometimes

About sound and vision?"

-  Lyrics from Sound and Vision, 1977, David Bowie from his ground-breaking album, Low.

(The video above replaces this live version of I'm Afraid of Americans. Original video with Trent Reznor.)

Vale, Jeff Beck!

 

It seems a little ominous that my first post of the year should report (yet) another passing... but, I just learned today that we've lost another legend: guitarist Jeff Beck, whose 2014 performance (in Paris) of one of his signature tunes is above.

Honestly, I've yet to get a handle on 2023 - and, it looks like Jeff Beck didn't bother - but, if it means anything, he was performing right up till his final curtain (see BBC article). Somehow, I don't believe even death can really stop him.

For a vintage performance, see the Yardbirds video in Heart Full of Soul.

Vale, Elizabeth!

Truly, the end of an era has arrived... a turning point in the world's affairs. Elizabeth II wasn't merely the Queen of England, she was Empress of the Globe... a goddess... a woman who, for many of us, was a prominent personality all throughout our lives.

What will we do without her?

Farewell to a Free Spirit (with 8/17/18 update and Addendum)

Oksana Shachko (January 31, 1987- July 23, 2018)

"... I was deeply inside the religious world and very concentrated on my craft. It started to take off for me. At ten years old I had already started painting in churches and exhibiting my art. I was deeply inside all these institutional bodies, and because of it, I started believing in God. I always went to Church to pray. When I was twelve years old I decided to go live in the church, to paint icons and spend my life praying. I wanted to stop living a normal life and become a monk.

... (but) I started to think that I didn’t want to overwhelm my parents with stress, so I decided to stay. At that moment, I started to think about the meaning of believing. It was a big paradox for me. My parents are religious, they believe in God, they go the Church… But they refuse that I become a monk. I didn’t understand. I continued living with my parents and started searching for an answer to my questions. I continued painting icons but started engaging in more conversations with the people surrounding me. I wanted to know why they came and prayed in front of these icons. I also starting becoming critical of the Church. When I was fourteen, I found a group of young people from fifteen to twenty years old who organized philosophical clubs out of school... They were very critical of religion. I found them very interesting. I started to come more and more and read their books. I discussed religion with them and continued to say, “God exists,” wanting to prove it to them. One year passed, two years passed, and I became a total atheist...

Oxana and Sasha Shevchenko,
Kiev, 2013

... At this time, I met with Anna Hustol and Sasha Shevchenko with whom I created Femen. I never thought about feminism before. In Ukraine, feminism is never talked about. We had a lot of meetings with professors, the University director, the mayor, and some businessmen to gather money for the students. When I went to see those people, I was accompanied by a guy and they only listened to him. That was not normal. When I was seventeen, I started to get very angry about this with the other girls. That’s when we decided to create a girl movement, to prove to everybody that we are able to create, to do things, and to work."

- Excerpt from: A Meeting with Oksana Shachko,  a November, 2017 interview with Armelle Leturcq for Crash magazine from which the photograph of Oxana (inset left) was taken. The icon in the background - featuring the Virgin Mary wearing a burqa while breast-feeding the infant Christ - is her own work; a detail of which is shown later in this post. Inset right is a detail of a photograph found here.

"During the five years she was in Femen, Shachko was arrested dozens of times, interrogated, allegedly abused by police and spent almost a year in jail. She was also one of the members who was allegedly kidnapped in Belarus in 2011 after protesting the Belarusian president Alexander Lukashenko during a topless rally. Shachko and other members said they were forced to strip naked in the woods, were beaten, had oil poured on them and were threatened to be set on fire." 

- From Oxana's Huffington Post obituary.

***

Oksana Shachko (or Oxana, as she preferred) was an almost fragile young woman... slightly built and diminutive, but, at the same time, striking enough to have been a model, and fierce enough to have been a prize-fighter. She showed great skill as an artist at a very early age, and was groomed as a painter of religious icons: a highly traditional and stylized genre of image-making that left little room for personal expression. As a prepubescent girl, she was spiritual to such a degree that she came very close to entering a monastery.

However, by the latter half of her teens all this would change. She would question the validity of religion and turn to atheism. She would question her position as the subordinate female of the species and turn to feminism. She would question her own convictions in relation to the apathy she found in her native Ukraine and turn to activism. Ultimately, in 2008, she would help organize a small band of Ukrainian feminists. They called themselves "FEMEN" and set in motion a series of outrageous, theatrical demonstrations in response to the political, patriarchal and demoralizing injustices to women they observed in both Western and Middle Eastern societies. Inset right below: Oxana at work.

Unfortunately, FEMEN was not an entirely successful experiment. The women were often berated, humiliated, beaten and imprisoned. And, although they gained enough notoriety to make headlines worldwide - consistently photographed by male members of the press - they failed to make a favorable impression on a number of their fellow feminists who - with a few exceptions - managed to miss the point.

And, it got worse. In a 2016 interview, Oxana reflected: "After our protest against the elections in Russia, I was detained for two weeks. In the police department, I was blamed for everything and deported. From then on, I was denied entry to Russia, for life. We were arrested after every action in Ukraine but never were deported of course, because we were the citizens of the country. Yet our activism became physically impossible. In the end, we were accused of preparing a terrorist attack against Putin and the Patriarch Cyrill. They planted weapons, bombs, and also the portraits of these two beauties. Within one day... we managed to escape from Ukraine."

Triangulation & The 3 Hares (In Memory of a Beautiful Mind)

Four Degrees of Triangulation - 2015, DS

"Each planet has energy through it via a visible light spectrum and produces it’s own output albeit in a longer thermal wave and the production of atmospheres, and the concurrence of fluids ruled over by the Trident of Neptune. .. One could call our solar system an example of the conservation of energy...or perhaps not. Perhaps this is a strange astrology..cyclic and yet prone to flux. The visible conjoined to the invisible. And beyond this?

Is there a triadic ordering to the anomalous between existents and non existents? Is there a dipole to this that creates a dynamo that produces a music strange to our senses..attenuated to this exchange resulting not in physicality nor non physicality, but rather a reconciling force?

Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose the interdependence of what Bateson saw as two drum beats creates not a seeming harmonious rhythm but rather discordance as translated by our own triangulations."

- Bruce Deunsing, from his post The Physicality of Metaphysics

Four Degrees of Triangulation (2) - 2015, DS

"Nicola Tesla (1856-1943) in his whole life, did not own a home, he lived in hotels, never got married and besides him being a genius, his interesting personality was always the center of attention. Since he arrived to New York in 1884 he stayed in many hotels (especially the New Yorker which was the one he stayed the longest in) he would order his meal by phone, he would sit all alone in his suit at the table, since he had an obsession of numbers that could be divided by three he would order his napkins according to this and after a thorough hygiene control he would eat his meal."

-  Via this Tesla Society page.

"One of his proudest achievements was his TMT, (Tesla Magnifying Transmitter), or Tesla transponder. The few that have looked into this at a mathematical and experimental level seem to reach the conclusion that it is a system of resonant transformers harmonically balanced to the electric condition of the Earth...If the phase angle of the earth pulsation frequency lags the phase angle of the pulsating frequency, energy is abstracted from the earth's supply of energy and delivered as "free energy" to the transponders. Three distinct standing waves, each coupled to the other through two points of refraction are involved in its operation. This is GROSSLY simplified to arrive at a possible solution to our 3-6-9 problem."

- Via "Steve" from this Physics forums page: Why was Tesla Obsessed with the Number 3?

***

I thought I'd let the triangulations speak for themselves for a while before I put in my left-brained "two cents". As it stands, I'm having a difficult time writing these days, and I regret stalling on posting to this blog, but it can't be helped. I am currently immersed in 2 relief-sculptural projects - yes, I'm carving plaster again(!) - and the "brains" are battling each other for time.

Then again, I've just been informed that the planet Saturn has gone retrograde. Never a good thing, my fellow earthlings. The bottom line: beware of Karma... yours and everyone else's.

This post is sort of a companion piece to the one posted here - a memorial to fellow blogger, Bruce Duensing, who just happened to be a misunderstood genius - but it's inadvertently dedicated to another "beautiful mind" and another misunderstood genius, Nicola Tesla, with whom Bruce may have had a few things in common...

Remembering Mac V: Somewhere, Under a Rainbow

Somewhere, Under a Rainbow -- digital - 2012, DS
First in a series of glass abstractions... for Mac, from Dia

Remembering Mac IV: The Dragon and the Pearl

The Dragon & The Pearl (detail) - Digital - 2011, DS

"Reed's real name was Princess Tatiana Dracorin. At least, that was how she was formerly known, when there existed a family Dracorin who resided in a castle by that name. But, of that existence, Reed chose not to speak, recounting, instead, an earlier history.

The Dracorins were the first and the last of the Dragon Makyrr, a noble family, who traditionally emerged from the mysterious wastelands of the Far East; a territory that no respectable person in Elidon Wold would've even heard of, let alone mention.

The Dracorins were not merely the Makyrr of reptiles, however, but blood relations to the original primordial worms, which rose from a distant ocean, and to which they'd eventually return; leaving in their wake a brood of lizard-skinned mutations. It was from these first mutants that the Dracorin line evolved.

Their mistake was their decision to move west, specifically in a northerly direction, where the climate was cool and moist, and kinder to their skin, and where the bulk of humanoid civilization was reported to be thriving. What they could not know was that reptilians were not welcome in Elidon Wold; nor would they ever be."

- Dia Sobin, excerpt of Chapter 8, The Pearl, Book 2 of The Last Chronicle of Elidon Wold - Copyright 2012, All Rights Reserved.

***

You know her as Tatiana, the Dragon Princess, previously blogged about here and here in 2011. And, if you've read those posts, I needn't explain (again) her relationship to Mac Tonnies. She was the one illustration I had started for Mac before his death in 2009, but never finished till two years later.

I had decided, after she was finished, to add her as a character to a languishing story of mine... another children's story tentatively entitled "The Shadow Bride" or "The Moth Maid's Daughter". But, with the addition of Tatiana - and really she was an almost alchemical ingredient -  it became rapidly clear that the story had gained in complexity, and was really meant for adolescent readers... Encouraged by a comment of ToB's, made on the Trans-D post, the story grew by leaps and bounds till a first draft was finally finished earlier this year.



Previous: Remembering Mac III: One Day With Mr. Tone

Next: Remembering Mac V: Somewhere, Under a Rainbow

Remembering Mac III: One Day With Mr. Tone

One Day With Mr. Tone - Proposed Cover Illustration - Digital - 2012, DS

"Now, when I see birds," he said,

"I think it's time to fly...

Even cats and turtles

Like to take to the sky.

For, one thing we've found,

When getting around:

It's more fun in the air,

Than it is on the ground!"

- Excerpt from One Day With Mr. Tone, a children's story in verse, 2010, revised 2012, DS

***

"You might try visiting in the summer... then you'll probably find Crazy chasing butterflies. And, if you look very carefully and slightly askance, you might notice two other cats watching from a distance... One of whom looks suspiciously like it might be Crazy's twin.
And, if you're really lucky, you just might find a tall young man in a black fedora standing nearby. He's just passing through, too, you understand... for a chance meeting with some friends."

- via a Post-Mac Blues post from November, 2009 - The Kauffman Memorial Garden

***

I first posted on Post-Mac Blues about Mr. Tone in 2010, under the erroneous assumption that my early draft was ready to fly - a "done deal", or so I thought at the time - but, it's always a mistake when it comes to written material to make any such declarations... As a matter of fact, it's naive to assume that anything is finished! Like it or not, each and every creative endeavor is a process... what appears to be a "done deal" is invariably unfolding.

And, that goes for the Mr. Tone cover illustration, too, which, as a few of you may notice, has changed quite a bit from the original. The first Mr. Tone finally appeared to my eyes - and, to my horror - like some sort of psychotic predator, black clothing and all, Not the stuff of little kid's books - well, certainly not today's group. Actually, I'm getting the impression that maybe Mr. Tone, as benign and innocuous of a ghost as he may be (because, of course, that's what he is, though I'm not sure he knows it), is not at all the variety of story being published today in our present paranoid world - most especially for young children -  and most especially because I'm not an established celebrity. (Can't you just wait for a kid's book by the Kardashians? I could.) Which is not to say I didn't try. I sent a book proposal to two publishers months and months ago. Result: no joy.

I still think the story is a fine one, and Mr. Tone - inspired by Mac, of course and/or my speculation of a similar personality as all-spirit - and all his ghostly animal companions - 2 cats, a fish and a box turtle* presently, but his menagerie may expand - continues to resonate with me. Perhaps the story might fly for older children... provided I nix the verse form. Then I can get more cutting edge - which I think Mac would appreciate - and make further changes... The fish in Tone's balloon, for instance, is actually a tribute to my deceased "coral beauty" (see Orfeo), but if Mac is really in this story somewhere, well, you know and I know, that what's really in that balloon is a jellyfish!

* About that box turtle... some time after I had completed my first draft of the story, I learned that Mac, as a child, used to rescue box turtles from the road which passed by his MO home. And I named the turtle Rocky, only to find out later (once again) that the original - and departed -  park cat at Kauffman Garden was named "Rocky". Go figure.



Previous: Remembering Mac II: Metamorphosis Interrupted

Next: Remembering Mac IV: The Dragon and the Pearl

Remembering Mac II: Metamorphosis Interrupted - w/ Update

Worm's Last Memory - Digital - 2009, Dia Sobin
(Click to enlarge.)

The image above was originally entitled "Metamorphosis Interrupted"; but was eventually changed to "Worm's Last Memory". The above version was completed in 2009, and created especially for Mac, but, as it was, it never did make it onto Posthuman Blues. Most likely because it represented the antithesis of the biotechnology he held in high esteem.

I don't think this particular worm is in the process of metamorphosis. I doubt it ever had a chance. But, I'm not sure what sort of process is taking place, or if this process is taking place on earth - note the odd tag on the bell-shaped apparatus.

I do have a soft spot for insects that transmute. Specifically butterflies, moths and the cicada. And so, by the way, did Mac.  Below are some photos I took in 1991 of a brood of Monarch butterflies I raised while living on Long Island. Mac never saw these, but something tells me he would've liked them a lot better than my digital worm. (Click on image-bars for enlargements)

(Added note 2/6/2013: Just in case you might've thought the above image too over the top, here's a reality check for you...)

Worm Oroborous - The Hanging Worm (about to transform) - The Capsule Beneath the Skin

The Capsule Revealed - Capsule Filled with Liquid - The Capsule Changes

The Capsule Grows Dark - A Door Opens - The Imago* Emerges...

3 New Creatures Hang to Dry...

Behold! They can fly!

* Do click on the Wiki "imago" link... a very cool .gif of an emerging cicada is shown!

Previous post in this series: Remembering Mac: The Stars Are Falling
Note: This post has been deleted. The image for the post - The Stars Are Falling - can now be found here.

Next post: Remembering Mac III: One Day With Mr. Tone

Ray Bradbury (8/22/1920 - 6/5/2012...)

“A long time back, she thought, I dreamed a dream, and was enjoying it so much when someone wakened me, and that day I was born. And now? Now, let me see...She cast her mind back. Where was I? she thought. Ninety years...how to take up the thread and the pattern of that lost dream again? She put out a small hand. There...yes, that was it. She smiled. Deeper in the warm snow hill she turned her head upon her pillow. That was better. Now, yes, now she saw it shaping in her mind quietly, and with a serenity like a sea moving along an endless and self-refreshing shore. Now she let the old dream touch and lift her from the snow and drift her above the scarce-remembered bed.” 

― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine*

***

Perhaps one of the most significant writers of the 20th Century died yesterday at the age of 91, but watching this video, one that I had found on the National Endowment of the Arts website a year or so ago, convinces me more than ever before that death must be an illusion, or merely another phase of life.

I haven't merely posted this video on my art blog as a tribute to a great man; I've included it here because, in it, Ray Bradbury - in a discussion regarding his "Farenheit 451", touches upon every conceivable facet of human creativity... with humor, warmth, wisdom, and a vitality that can only belong to one has envisioned - and come to terms with - his own immortality.

See you on Mars, Ray!

P.S. And a trip to Mars may happen sooner than any of us think... check this out!

***

An essay by Bradbury published Monday, June 4, 2012 in the New Yorker can be found here.

* Dandelion Wine, a favorite of mine, and the novel that Bradbury noted as his "most deeply personal work" was expected to join the list of screenplays that have been adapted from his novels - "The Illustrated Man" and "Farenheit 451" leap to mind - via this article from the summer of last year.

"Drinking the Dandelion Wine of Ray Bradbury" by Alice Hoffman.

RayBradbury.com

The Art of Illumination - In Memory Of Maurice Sendak

“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

- Maurice Sendak, found here

Just heard the sad news that illustrator Maurice Sendak died today via this article from Yahoo. I was always a fan of Sendak's work as well as inspired by it. I didn't realize he lived not far away from me in Connecticut. I wish I'd known him. 

Of course, his masterstroke and probably most popular children's book was "Where the Wild Things Are", and there many tributes to Sendak and that particular story going up on the web as I write this. So, just to be different, I'm including in this post two more delicate illustrations from two of his other books. The first is from "Outside Over There", a "Labyrinth"-like tale (which proceeded Labyrinth) about a little girl who neglects her sibling while baby-sitting, and then must retrieve the baby after it is stolen by goblins. The second is from Sendak's adaption of a lesser-known Grimm's tale: "Dear Milli". I tend to feel that the "Father Joseph" in this illustration is Sendak himself... with his "dream-daughter", the one he never physically sired, but, you know, and I know, existed nonetheless. Fare-thee-well, Maurice Sendak, and thank you.

Below is a 2002 PBS news-clip featuring Sendak.

P.S. I don't know why this is, but everywhere I go on the web lately, I seem to run into Neil Gaiman... not that this is a bad thing... it's a very nice thing actually. Here's a link to Gaiman's thoughts on Maurice Sendak via a Wired memorial. (via Boing Boing)... and Gaiman's related journal entry.

Ode To Orfeo - Annotated

Ode to Orfeo was another one of my intitial Transfigurist images, in memory of a tropical fish I knew for a few days whom I named Orfeo. He was a variety known as the "Coral Beauty" and he really was an exquisite little fish... more charming and intelligent than any little fish has the right to be; that is, trapped in a tank and dependent on a fairly stupid human who hasn't much of a clue as to its needs. He used to watch TV with me and listen to music - at least it seemed as if he was -  and play hide and seek in this huge whelk shell I'd placed in the tank. He'd hide in the depths of the shell for awhile, then peek out of the side of the opening till I called: "Oh, Orfeo..." in a sing-song sort of voice... and out he'd come, dash around for awhile and then hide in the shell again.


Then, one night Orfeo's gills became tangled in a "decorative" (deadly, apparently) sea weed, and, despite frantic efforts, he could not be saved. I was devastated. I buried him in the family burial plot next to my brother's gravestone.  A few nights later I had a dream... just a snippet really... a vision of this little clown-like man peering at me from around the corner of a wall with huge smile on its face, and then vanishing. I woke up immediately and thought of Orfeo. I imagined he was saying good-bye.


The foundation for this image was an x-ray of a human skull. Overall, it can be categorized as surrealist, except for its one, genuine Transfigurative element - which might also be seen as the defining Transdimensional element - and that is the enigmatic, gold area between the mirror-imaged fish and the "bowl". A number of elements and strange patterns found themselves within this area, and in the image overall. Consciously, I'm not quite sure what I meant by the image to this day, but, my muse informs me on an unconscious level that it is exactly correct.


Ode to Orfeo was basically completed in 2008, then reformatted and re-realized in 2010. I envision it printed on a silk scroll, edged in gold thread, with some odd variety of gold tassels hanging from it.

Ode to Orfeo detail - added 5/28/2014
(click to enlarge)

Ode to Orfeo detail - added 5/28/2014

(click to enlarge)