0036 National Gallery
A ‘School of..’ painting, it’s sometimes on display,
sometimes in the ‘Secondary Collection’; rather like
its subject, it’s subject to circumstances
beyond its own control. But this is no pupil’s homage
to the master; quite the contrary. He’s telling us
something very clearly – but, he’s just not telling us exactly
what he’s telling us - as might a living artist tell
for a curator’s fussy footnote; all the ‘program’;
it’s art, you have to look…
So shall we start from foreground? It’s a horizontal canvas,
a road runs straight across; in the middle of the road
a golden-haloed, blue-robed saint is being stabbed.
The helmeted pair of ruffians
are clearly sent by secular authority
to do the deed; this we may guess. The saint
at this sharp freeze-frame moment, leans slightly back –
not aback in reaction or retreat; but rather,
to make it easier for the knife to do its work.
Had the painting been two centuries later,
the gesture would be called ‘Baroque’:
he, leaning back, open hands, as if he’s yielding up
an acquiescent soul; surrendered faster than a prayer,
faster than a plunging knife. Might we so wish to go?
His priest companion (they wear the Order's colours)
will I think be questioned sharply by the Order’s Governor:
is he simply fleeing for his life?
Is he running off for help? But that’s not likely, since
there are would-be witnesses right by the roadside there; or
does he in his wisdom know that what will be, will be?
(In which case, did he really need to flee?)
That’s something, someone at the time would know;
It adds to the irony – we’re disturbed; the victim’s not…
And now a further very visual paradox: right beside the road,
two woodcutters are at work; swinging their axes, quite oblivious -
not, as hoping to be spared, as in ‘didn’ see nuffin, gov…’;
maybe they knew they weren’t the target? It’s more as if
they represent a world apart; chopped trees an allegory
of life cut down to other world's decree;
but did the artist have to make this quite so blatant?
Another disturbing paradox still unresolved.
And then, in this strange painted layer-cake
of world on world, the top, green layer:
the sloping verdant hill, serene in the lush and dreaming, radiant
peace of summer nature undisturbed; here, nothing untoward
has happened; ever might; beauty’s unimpaired.
From this strange layer-cake of art, we’ll take
some indefinable visual memory out into the street -
saints live, saints die; man’s work goes on; and nature, simply, is.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Seeing a Clearer Me
layer by layer
i peel so that
like a glass
you can view me
crystal clear as a virgin river
a polished diamond
decades of
practice for those
seasoned fingers
to strike at her core
to bring out those few
beethoven scores
he tuned up the world for
a great watch maker
filing his cog to tighten time
the precision of mind
to keep a universal lie at bay
verse by verse
layer by layer
i peel to get to
the sheen the almighty
laid hidden in me
layer by layer
i peel off the world
to see a clearer me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Core Of My Being
a cake with white
icing, some sugar
red roses and
confectioner leaves
of green around
the chocolate cake
layer upon layer
to give an impression
of fullness and
solidity,
at the core is the
softness of air bubbles
trapped within,
something is empty
so soft, something like
a void unaffected still
by heat and time.
that is what i am
and i love it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canvas
Before my eyes brilliant colour, perfection
Dancing gracefully in every direction,
The world of trees, the art of nature
Are simple reasons for a painter.
The power mother nature can release
Could make a painting, a masterpiece
A gallery of natures finest hues,
Enough to stir the most reluctant muse.
Should mother nature tutor me in art
My tree would show a living beating heart,
And should I save one single living tree
My canvas would inspire the world to see.
Red, orange, yellow, green and brown
Colours of beauty my brush would put down
Bright and vibrant Maple Red and Golden Oak
Living, breathing felt with every brush stroke..
©2011
poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Road/Yes The Road Again
THE ROAD/ YES THE ROAD AGAIN
The road
Yes the road again
To see to feel
The beauty of the new in an ancient landscape-
Green green the trees
And blue the sky
And light the morning world-
The new
the road
The open road again
Who would have believed
I would ever find it again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twist Of Fate
(kipner/becket)
Do we deserve a second chance?
How did we fall into this circumstance?
We werent so straight and narrow
This is much more than we deserve
A higher voice has called the tune
Two hearts that lost the beat will now resume
The gift of life extension
By divine intervention
Its gotta be a strange twist of fate
Telling me that heaven can wait
Telling me to get it right this time
Life doesnt mean a thing
Without the love you bring
Love is what weve found
The second time around
Dont understand whats going on
Woke up this morning, all the hurt was gone
This is a new beginning
Im back in the land of the living
Its gotta be a strange twist of fate
Telling me that heaven can wait
Telling me to get it right this time
Life doesnt mean a thing
Without the love you bring
Love is what weve found
The second time around
Its gotta be a strange twist of fate
Telling me that heaven can wait
Oh, Im gonna get it right this time
Life doesnt mean a thing
Without the love you bring
Love is what weve found
The second time around
Its gotta be a strange twist of fate
Telling me that heaven can wait
You know, Im gonna get it right
Im gonna make it work this time
Life doesnt mean a thing
Without the love you bring
Love is what weve found
The second time around
Its gotta be a strange twist of fate
Telling me that heaven can wait
Life doesnt mean a thing
Without the love you bring
Love is what weve found
The second time around
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Layer and Layer of dynamite
when teaching of peace
in religion is overtaken
by narrow minded bigotry
when religion fails to work
its primary function, to spread love
layer and layer of suspicion
and hatred start to grow
in the hearts of different faiths
they work like dynamite
and more destructive
than an atom bomb
when detonated, for years
the fires remain burning
invisible but ever ready
like embers to flay into
the worse of flames
the issue of race when
played out for political gains
hatred and suspicion
between the peoples
start to work like layer and layer
of dynamite in a bomb
ever ready to detonate,
burn, scar, and tear
down the basic foundation
of society
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wiggly World
They say the fittest shall survive
Yet the unfit may live
Let em wear gaudy colors
Or avoid display
Hey it dont matter
Its all the same
So I do this and I do that
So I do this and I do that
So I do this and I do that
Its never straight up and down
Its never straight up and down
Its never straight up and down
Its never straight up and down
Oh you got a nickel
I got a dime
Id like to get to know you
But I havent got the time
You gotta walk like a mannequin
Roll like a tire
Act on reaction
Dodge the big spud fryer
So wiggle on the bottom
Wiggle on the top
Wiggle up the middle
And laugh a lot
Cause Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world, a wiggly world
I got to tell you
Ive been living in a wiggly world now
Wiggly world, a wiggly world
Well Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world, a wiggly wor/d
I got to tell you
Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggiy world, a wiggly world
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle
Yeah Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Oh Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Well Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Well Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Well Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Well Ive been iiving
In a wiggly world now
Wiggly world
Well Ive been living in a wiggly world
Wiggly world
Oh, Ive been living in a wiggly
Wiggly world
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angels Are Not Saints
angels are not saints, we do believe that they exist
they can even transform themselves into human for
form, but still remain to what they are in their natural
phenomenon
they are called by many names, they too have rank to
obey, for angels lives like us, who work and have task
given by their master, in some moments we see them,
as they appears everyone notice them for angels, are
favorite images in every literature
angels are not God, that can judge nor an icon to be adored
in the altar that we throne, for only they serve to the master
where they return, in God's wisdom they are form
all angels are holy, but not a saints, as it could be, for only
man's nature reserved to be, by holiness one's sinfulness
make us saint in all eternity
angels is in highest stage, where over and above human sphere,
never that they are superior nor inferior to human lure, for one
mistake subject to be thrown to the fire that burn
angels are angels never be a saints for eternity, for our destiny
they are made, forever they well always lead us, we equal the
same beginning in the image and likeness of God, we took
and shared one love, a breath that last for a lifetime
angels as we, differ from they, who by the one who sent them,
reminds us all, to be, in a nation of saints not of an angel
where we are call
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midde Kingdom
everybody owns
a middle kingdom
in which one is born king
where one measures
the world and manoevres oneself
ahead of the rest, the race
the flame might waver
flicker to a little light blue
near to petering out
but as soon as the air steadies
it jumps back to show you
how tall you can actually be
if you could hold on to your dream
never giving up come rain or shine
the one middle kingdom
so well guarded no one would
even realise it is there layer by layer
inch by inch constructed
by its one and only king
the rest might be better
work, women or soccer
but this middle kingdom
never once would the sun rise
without his mighty plans
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When is a Painting Finished?
I paint.
On my easel
pictures in oil and acrylic grow
like stalagmites in limestone caves.
I think that painting is a magical act
that transforms invisible thoughts
and feelings into visible colors
and forms.
But I never can tell
when is the work finished.
After all it is always possible
to change a line, a hue, or a color
or even the whole composition.
Painters have different opinions
about this.
Some say that when the artist
successfully planted
all the details onto the canvas
the image expresses itself
as a severed autonomous entity,
which frees the painter from
the task of continuing to paint.
From then on the painting gains
an independent inner life of its own.
However, abandoning a work of art
involves a moral decision
ripened by the stiffening tension
between skill, creativity and integrity.
At what point does the polished image
meet the artist’s expectations?
And then, even if it does,
no single image can express
all that an artist wants to show,
and consequently his muses
compel him to carry on with his work
and create more paintings.
Hence the oeuvre of the artist
evolves as a set of different images
of the same single thrust and grind.
Many years ago I was wandering
through the countryside
of southern France in Provence.
Once I stopped to look at the road
where the village met the meadow.
A sturdy artist stood there
in front of his easel
painting the landscape
with skilful brushstrokes
on a well-stretched canvas.
I stared for a while
at the burgeoning picture
and then asked him:
“How do you know
when is the composition complete? ”
He gave me a piercing glance.
“Well”, he said,
“if you take a hammer
and hit me on the head
I know that the painting is finished.”
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Voices Are Back
He saw flames in the department store
He tried to get the people to the safety of the door
There was no fire the voices were telling him what to do
You could see from his face he needs someone
To help pull him through
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Ripping through the fabric between his world and the real
Hes trying to protect you but
The knife will know that your flesh meets steel
Took him to an institution
And they helped the voices go away
But he didnt have the right set of papers
So they put this boy in jail
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Six weeks turned to twelve
He was locked up for twenty-three hours a day
The warden found him in his cell
His only crime was that he was ill
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Art Work
The love of a muse,
The pen of an artist,
This ink work will teach many yet unborn.
This art is from a realm to guide you,
This art work is like a mustard seed aroun you;
It is original!
It comes from a realm unknown;
It will inspire you.
This art is real to abstract your minds,
The innovative nature of my mind to you all;
It is the act of my dreams beyond imaginations!
This art will teach many,
It will inspire you all that love the muse.
This art work,
It is like a mustard seed;
It will grow to give you joy!
It is like the muse next door,
It will touch and influence you;
This art work ia sll that i have as an artist
This art work is never known,
It is called, 'Pen-Painting Graphics Abstracts'.
This art will teach many,
My innerself from the realm of imaginations!
This art will teach you;
But, the artist is never known.
This art is from a realm to guide you into my heart,
This art is from a realm to bring you into my world,
This is the love of a sweet muse to you all;
This art is from the pen of an artist who,
Is yet to be known.
This art is here to stay,
This art is all that i have for you all;
Cos', he who proves his skills proves his realms.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dolce Far Niente
(sweet idleness)
in the near zero visibility
of a winter gaining its momentum
i felt as if i was the only walker
on this winter road
through the thick fog
that insulated me from
the world known and unknown
your desire for me touched me
lifting the fog
layer by layer...
08nov2009
14.44hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I say that I can't make anything up. I think of myself as a collage artist. I'm cutting and pasting memories of my life. And I say, I have to live a life in order to tell a life. I would prefer to tell it because telling you're always in control, you're like God.
quote by Spalding Gray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Were A Painting
If I were a painting
Captured on canvas
Alone in the portriat I would stand
And brush strokes bold
Yet soft as a whisper
The work of a feminine hand.
Caught in a still life
Surrounded by shadows
And lost in a background of blue
If I were a painting
My price would be pain
And the artist would have to be you.
I imagine the colors
Would all run together
If you ever allowed me to cry
So don't paint the tears
Just let me remember me
Without you in my eyes.
It's only the frame
That holds me together
Or else I would be falling apart
If I were a painting
I wouldn't feel
And you wouldnt be breaking my heart...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Change The World
Chorus:
Together well change the world
This is our destiny
And make it a better place
In peace and harmony
Together well change the world
Can be reality
And then we gonna, make it right
And stop the misery
Chorus b:
All the people in every nation
Now we gonna rise above
All the problems and frustration
Now stand up and say enough
Rap 1:
You can call me a dreamer, I guess Im a believer
I believe we can change the world one day
Anyway, sooner or later, were natures creator
We wanna live in peace, stop to run away
Open your mind, the view doesnt get clearer
This is your time, dont let nobody stop ya
Here is your destiny, holding your hand
Lets call it a friend
Rap bridge:
Everybody stand up, up
We can make things better, better
Everybody for peace, peace
Come on lets change the world
Midpart:
Lets change the world - together we are strong
Lets change the world - we know whats going on
Lets change it all - the world is in our hands
We all need peace, we all need hope
Let us change the world
Rap 2:
Stop, step back dont let somebody play the game
Scream it loud, we dont want no black rain
No pain anymore in human history
Im talking about a world, full of melody
My life keeps on running, - just faster and faster
I pray for a wind of change, dont want that disaster
Fighting with spirit, - for everyone, for you and me
This world is my place to be
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An artist never works under ideal conditions. If they existed, his work wouldn't exist, for the artist doesn't live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist. The artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn't look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world. This is the issue in Andrey Rubliov.
quote by Andrei Tarkovsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Its Whatever
Its whatever
Its what happens
Whatever
Ooh
Whatever
Just like the birds that
Whistle in the trees
And in the leaves so happily your
My tree and through the storm
You stood strong for me
Kept me warm as can be (warm as can be)
Like a candy to an apple oh
We go together
Your so sweet to me ( oh so sweet)
I can say that I do believe
This is destiny
It keeps calling me
Now its me and you
You and me
And its whatever
Whatever you want it to be
Im telling you (Im telling you)
If its up to me whatever is whatever
Is whatever with you and me ( whatever is whatever)
Just like a breeze
In the middle of a summer eve
And you come through you comfort me
If Im a drink your
My lemon sgueeze
Oh youve got flava boy
You go good with
Me so boy dont play or tease me
Ooh keep me together
You got what I need
Now its getting late
Its after three
So quit your stalling
My body calling
Now its me and you
And you and me
And its whatever
Whatever you want it to be
Im telling you(Im telling you)
If its up to me whatever is whatever
As long as its you and me
Whatever is whatever
Its whatever
Its your world
I put that on everything
Its your world
Your world ooh
Now its me and you
You and me
And its whatever
You want it to be
Im telling you
If its up to me
Whatever is whateva
Whatever is whateva
Baby
song performed by by Aaliyah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mountain Of Malady
in the mountain of malady
the sharp fingernails of probity
on the hands of faith
dig the wells of whereto
time as usual is so patient
no stone is left unturned
layer by layer of fossilized moments
upturned and the quizzical look of
mercy continues to please
the stabs of light sometimes
hurt like murderous intent
but the quest has to continue
we all look for what is inside this
centuries of mysteries
time is cold. trees are felled.
it rains all night. the winds are angry.
at the bottom of it all beyond the thick layer
of lust and desire,
pain and betrayal, shame and fall?
what did you really find?
chunks of golden silence. platinum gaze.
diamond existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace
Artist - somebody didn't hear me
(What'd he say?)
Artist - formerly known as Prince
You gotta get your peace on
Peace, whoa oh
Peace
That's what we're here for
And not to war
When the war upon people of color thru needles
Designed to disease instead of relieve
When it ceases
I'll be a man of peace
(Say what)
When this mask of vendetta
Like tears on the face of Coretta
Roll down and go away
I'll be happier
(Happier)
I'll be a man of peace
Everybody say!
Peace, whoa oh
Peace
That's what we're here for
(That's what we're here for)
And not to war
When the time that we spend
Watching TV depends on
Whether or not it destroy or transcend
Then I won't need
(I won't, I won't)
Won't need a warranty
When the power of the hour is not yours but is ours
And the faces we see reflect all that we be indeed
There'll be a jubilee
Everybody say
Peace, whoa oh
Peace
That's what we're here for
(That's what we're here for)
And not to war
Bass
(Talkin' about freedom)
The rewards that we share will be based on what's fair
And not the curliness or the thick of our hair
Real competition, if you dare!
Music is our middle name
And we don't wanna play your game
So when the mergers you make are with us
And you take a fair slice of the cake
That we bake then you break
That would be real cool
But y'all wanna act like fools!
(What's up with that?)
Can't we all just get along?
And have peace, whoa oh
Peace
That's what we're here for
And not to war
Peace
Peace
Peace, whoa oh
Peace
That's what we're here for
And not to war
In case some of y'all didn't hear it right
I didn't call him, his name wasn't the artist
Artist, Artist
Artist - every syllable must be heard
Artist - formerly known as Prince
You got to get your peace in
Y'all tryin' to start something up in here
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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