When Doves Die

When Doves Dies

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The Irrepressible Nature of Irony*

Or, Nothing Is As It Appears To Be

If you were to do a search on my site for the word “irony” — and why would you? — but, if you were to, of the ten results you would receive, the first three would have the word “irony” in their heading, so it’s easy to see why they would be pulled up in the search; but as far as the other seven, it’s been so long since they were written that I have no clue why they were pulled in with the results, except for maybe the eighth one: it’s a post about Radiohead allowing fans to pay whatever they want for their latest release at the time. There’s probably a decent amount of irony to be found in that one.

Anyway, of the first three positively ironic posts pulled in the search, they are:
Continue reading “The Irrepressible Nature of Irony*”

If Currin were to do landscapes…

In my flash piece The Sophistry of Now (yeah, I know…don’t look at me, I have no idea what it’s about either) the narrator describes his sudden return to reality from whatever dream sequence or daydream of a trip he had just been on as “…snapping into focus before him looking like a crazy beautiful melodramatic John Currin landscape (if he were to do landscapes).”

Now I’m no Currin aficionado, or even a fanboy for that matter – well, maybe I am a little…low level like. I just somehow became aware of his artistic existence sometime around the turn of the century, became compelled by it, checked it out online, dug it pretty heavily, and then pretty much let him go.

But his work never really let me go.

It is a beautiful, haunting meld of heaven and hell, angels and whores, peace and perversion.

KCET.org writes of Currin this way:

In almost every article written about John Currin, there’s a sentiment that says something like this: John Currin is disputably the most successful painter of his generation. His mixture of art historical techniques with sexual or perverse subject matter helps him create masterful but modern works.

As far as I can tell, he doesn’t do landscapes. However, in some of his portraits, the sky is used as a backdrop and from these pieces, we can get a glimpse of what his landscapes might look like if he were to focus wholly on them.

And they would probably look nothing like the pictures I am sharing with this write-up.

However, tonight’s sky lit up itself and the landscape surrounding my hood in a surreal heavenly, hellishly, beautifully apocalyptic way, a way that, whenever I am fortunate enough to experience it every now and again, always reminds me of a John Currin landscape, if he were to do them…

 

Currin-Sky-2

Currin-Sky-3

Currin-Sky-4

Currin-Sky-5

 
 

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Where You Are We Cannot Go

Franz Kafka
Franz Kafka

 

With you
there we are
at the places we cannot go
with you
we go
you take us there with you
to the places we cannot go

You guide us
drive us
deep into the heart
into the dark
into the places we cannot go

Through the heat
through the snow
the snow
the bitter snow
the insufferable snow
with you through the snow
we lose ourselves
in the places we cannot go
crumbling castles in the sky
looming shadows
rampart mysteries
the eyes
spying eyes
lying eyes
the eyes coaxing us down
the endless trails
the trails without end
that lead us
to the places we cannot go
the hunger
the bitter hunger
we hunger
we are there
with you
and we hunger
insatiable
we live for the hunger
we hunger to be there with you
enduring trials indiscriminate
to be with you
to suffer
with you
the trial
the trials
the accusations of truths
for which we have no defense

 
 

 
 

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