Cyclical Wordplay Artwork

Cyclical Wordplay Artwork
Title: Mountain Reflection on Cyclical Wordplay (original manuscript made into art)

On the Artwork

On the Artwork

By using a spontaneous form of action painting, without touching the brush to the paper at any time, three different shades of paint; gold, white and black, are used to emphasize free form, spontaneous creative expression not only in the written word, but in the space that it occupies. This method of action painting which withholds all contact with brush and medium excites notions of letting pure spontaneity occur through the open-ended natural course of creation taking shape out of human hands (in the air).

This representation of the spontaneous action of free form creativity in writing makes the viewer look at the entire page as one unified expression in the creative form of the particular written piece, whereby the empty space defines the writing as much as the words expressed on the page. Those who habitually write freehand, especially free form, improvisational writers, know that the limited size and type of paper (e.g. whether there are lines, creases, folds, graphics, etc.) inevitably divides up the rhythm of open-ended spontaneous expression.

By utilizing circular objects, such as plastic compact disc panels and other circular objects, I have used a method of action painting where I flit a paint-covered brush repeatedly to introduce a dense splatter effect over a circular form in order to regard the fact that all writing is inevitably formed by the shape of the letter, word and sound through which its expression carries. Another method of action painting brought me to form sizeable globs of paint in shape of an oval, especially at the end of a tail of paint or alone, confirming the universal truth that with free form, spontaneous movement, all form inevitably assumes a circularity (or cyclicality), as represented in the oval, sphere and all other circular formations found in nature that are central to the creative essence of form.

The center of the artwork details a line with a globular oval end protruding into a circular form. This marriage of two different methods of action painting, spraying over a concretized foreign object and allowing natural shapes to occur, is the central image in the piece, which glorifies human intent metaphorically through many complementary symbols, as in the sperm and the egg among others. The globular oval and thick line formed near to the core image represents a leading expression, passing away from the center’s concretized circular form, from which the rest of the paint devolves as miniscule spatial occupations on the page. The rest of the action painting signifies the importance of relatively negligible marks defining a whole expression of greater density and presence.

Note:

The process of creating this piece: freehand spontaneous writing on notepads, transcribing writings onto a computer, editing form of writing into conventional poetics, typing out each piece onto self-prepared craft paper, stitching together each page into a wall mural (or spatial literature), action painting, re-configuring the entire spatial layout page-by-page, photographing and scanning each page, designing the end artwork via computer software

Preamble

Preamble

Opening the page to experimental, improvised writing which emphasizes and attempts a most strict depiction of the spontaneous nature of mind can be perceived with harrowing aspiration in the realm of continuity; that is flipping the page.

As a forewarning of sorts, this collection of writing, as devised for readership, is the result of an editing which has purpose in giving the spontaneous flow of mental activity form. While attempting to convey the refreshing action of letting go, all structure and boundary and, in sense, constructs of mind are dissolved.

The writing asks many questions to the reader: Where do we place ourselves as we remain glued to the mirror image of our world? When do we notice that the contour and shape of the mirror-image reflected into our minds is in fact an artificial; that is reflective function, as opposed to a direct sight? How do we understand and make observations into the absolved outpouring of mental fruition through a most basic, almost instinctual, resonance with words as mere vessels of human energy? How can we instill in the reading a sense of self, a theatrical play of noticing self as natural form, spontaneously resolved and perceived in the moment?

The title of the collection “Cyclical Wordplay” brings to light the foundational nature of creation as a cyclical process, with rhythmic momentum in a constant transition between renewal and decomposition. The idea “Wordplay” refers to a notion that words can be as sounds on an instrument, simply meant to be full to the brim with a particular feeling and raw emotion/thought/idea/sensation through which it is able to carry into a context of form and meaning. So, in a sense, we can conceive of words' symbolic sound, through which the newfound impression of the given moment may relay its inward need to express itself in a very subtle form; through a word. Each individual reader is as an instrument through which that symbolic sound or word idea is carried and resonates with a new meaning each time, according to the particular temperament and character of the individual, allowing that symbolic sound or meaning to carry through them as its basic vibration.

complete erase.

gasp.

and no more in the walk to ultimate freedom awaiting pleasant as her dream beckoning the wall to no more, no more destind failure or washd up foolish hunger

“and where was our lost flesh sent to? to what mind do we owe the greatest thanks and hate,”

wanting nothing but a flash of secondary moments, a lie filled with hot life, and rancid as individual fluid rushd with a frequency beyond laughter in the brain toward the mangy street rest, bothering crooked business hut soft ogres crunching with naked breath on the earths only way.

unspoken distant, gone and needing buzzd rotten cool, thinking reeds following chaotic borders dissolved in the magic flight of a shamanic musician, wild as the same freakuency pulling shot arisen horror forlorn tristessa of my jack, still in the caring halls of learning bearing the children hollowd with too great a smoking god, to reach and finding no one to coast ashore with the alone, alone trashd feet breaking on another flat grassd fan to spare the little mashed n mangled fright withering perfectly as a grave sold

to my holy day saint, “hush darling this is the great lashing in refrain for a new job to gain on your late resumed future booming as the curling drifter hurt on the urban train vision and drooling still awake to perspired contemplations in. a minute,”

“oh dont take this wizard to the back where no one is straight, low and behold the apparent answer making a vile disease useless as the mail i sent u piled wiring manhandling the phantom guess, a body?”

no response

heard as wicked night random wordings move joking and more real than any unstable usage plannd or given by a womb man-eurism choking on tortured lights visiting the bold raced lie and fainting unknown to the mimicking hostess floating spun to hold on with all musterd might

my older life drained by fueld addiction to cope with this singular mess the towncityvillageglobe, no home, no where

“oh roam and dont stare transfixed mesmerized memorizd lore oralities lunging thru crimes gunnd into a poor nation at war, always why always more and no place goin to the stor, to break dollars for the latching hands grasped on destitute mold, transforming personal deaths to vain Argentinean moonless pride, powerless as a listend to pyramid

toppd song hung by original love to the tongue singing tree, grumbling just for me about the famous play we changed into a spectacle of humanity,”

thats all over, for now, grisly drug stoppd pleasures wheeling paint into a toxic hillock smoldering and fading without being told as the evil kissings of a mind stupefied inside blind fraught alleyway locks killing moneyd brands with a touch and a knife and we lose another life to fragments of pale oversight, ran away

“please, do breed, act on noise channeling”

the island of man

dining on spectral grams weighd for the thriving or buried hands that catch sold certainties, veils nesting, birds elder burning natural as only our pain, collected suffering, pit baths of ancient rain manifested rock enlivened in the sacrificed birthing of choice into that, right, there

December 31, 2009 
Waking in middle of the night to great-grandmother’s shadow ghost, upstate New York

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)