Monday, 26 January 2015

Earthly. Cheryl Penn and Marie Wintzer

I’ve periodically posted single images from this collection of  altered photographs on Collaborative Canto and the Visual Poetry/Asemic Writing blogs, but this download contains all the images Marie and I have been working on for a few months.

It was certainly a long term project and it was interesting to see how the alterations Marie added to the photographs changed over that period. Some images maintain their minimalism, (particularly those done at the beginning of the collaboration), and,  as time progressed, so did their complexity.   These are not taut, surgical images, rather they retain the organic structure dictated by the original artworks - books made from clay.   I had intended to do an installation of about 500 clay books (I MAY still…?) but boredom set in after about book 30.    Marie breathed new life into these clay books, rooted in earth - (a most physical manifestation thereof ) and they became pieces of data in Ether Realms.  These secondary structures, as ethereal as data are collected and available for download here:

Made of Clay.

Taken from the dust of the earth, these books became something else, data images that happened in Ether Realms.  It’s always trying to breathe new life into old ideas - like us, they’re never quite ready to die.

Cheryl Penn  

Making books out of clay, 
the work of a potter [shaping soil into pages]
the work of a writer [chiseling words out of sodden earth]
the work of a gardener [growing roots across fields]
the work of an architect [building stories through dust]
the work of a musician [composing songs engraved in ether]

The beauty of those clay books needed no enhancement, their stunning naked aura was evident to any eyes curious enough to see. But one can always  demand more of books… 
Marie Wintzer

“One can always demand more of books” - wise words Marie, and I agree wholeheartedly - they cannot be constrained, forever demanding new readings.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

Mail Art Makes the World a Town

Edition 12 Mail Art Makes the World a Town participants:

Reid Wood - USA
Tiziana Baracchi - Italy
Renato Sclaunich - Italy
Serse Luigetti - Italy
TICTAC - Germany
Vittore Baroni - Italy
Samuel Montalvetti - Argentina 

Jürgen Olbrich - Germany
Erich Sundermann - Austria
John Bennett - USA
Katerina Nikoltsou - Greece
Miguel Jimenez - Spain 

Jeff Crouch - USA
Torill Elisabeth Larsen - Norway
Thomas M Cassidy - USA
Svenja Wahl - Germany
Claudio Romeo - Italy
Anete Ulmane - Latvia
Cuan Miles - South Africa
Pier Roberto Bassi - Italy
Mark Sonnenfeld - USA 

Fatima Queiroz - Brazil
Antonio Gomez - Spain
David Stone - USA
Cheryl Penn - South Africa

There are to be only two more editions in the A5 format.  A HAND MADE EDITION - i.e. each page must be hand drawn/collaged/printed/painted, and one further general edition.  To contribute, please send 27 signed and numbered, double sided  A5 portrait pages.  A copy will be sent to each participant.  The format of this publication will change at Edition 15 to A6 (postcard size.  Send 22 signed and numbered pages.  Copy to all participants.  

Friday, 9 January 2015

Sing Me a Song - Cheryl Penn and Chance.


cheated  of their savings
asked the question

when theres no body
is it murder?

O MAN! Get a Danish -
it makes the mind clearer.

Get me some ice
or a new partner
A lack of conviction
killer philanthropy
she wants to speak to you
(juvenile services)
Slow Move Towards
AN Exit
it roughs up the scouts
she wants
to return to the streets where she can
in the dark.

and be
a graceful  linerlocked folder                        
in deep relief
lost in patterns
of Radiating Ladders.
let me show you something
the gem of the orient
Buster Warenski’s  metal cup
with viable switchblades
you have me confused
with a rib jersey
its my destiny
will we bleed out?

The notes made
his hands burn
and the sky was so dark
the dance -
he did not want to do this
clashing swords
mind your heads
we can play
but not forever
one day it will be real
I said STOP!

Oath of the  Horatii
over the fireplace
what/where was this anyway?

the best interrogator
on the force
Or justice
counting coins
may I help you?
the man, the myth or the legend?
how are you dealing with this?

she’s scheduled to be
please step back
a snatched kid
what don’t you understand?
track the blows
the responsible must be brought to justice
(Counting Coins?)
I made a promise -

I was up there
we all know that much
it was covered,
but not at first
you saw in the dark?
I can see in the dark.
I TOLD you
I can see in the dark.

the city through the windows looked
leave now
it gets real.
look into my eyes am I lying?
mind you
that’s just a theory
if I didn’t pay who did?
A drop off point -
a mastermind
in the stratosphere.

what are you talking about
weather balloons rise up
getting colder and colder
We all crack under pressure.

were you ever here?

the timing
works out.

if you find it
will you let me go?
that’s the deal
lift the man hole
she’ll use a pen to break free
from the shadows
lack of light
and all that is not right.
She told the truth
you’re going to need these
while she runs
and returns to the streets where
she can see
in the dark.

to what do I owe this honour?
Now that you mention this
can we stop the dance?
you have proof?
I only heard
Don’t be modest
you’re the crown prince
of parking lots
what are you protecting?

who gave the order
to commit
the offence of that address?
There’s a rumor
a trouncing

How did you get this?
It wasn’t hard
it will give you nightmares
I have those anyway
he promised
do you BELIEVE?
he will try -
of that I am certain.

You cant but trust me
I told you
Nobody looks for a dead man.
This war

I just know
its justice counting coins
in desolate blocks
     a road trip
 and sultry voice
believing that’s plenty
let me take a closer look -
I need more than good pipes.
I need a weapon.

light as seeds
I seem to have
fallen through time
sing me a song
of time that has gone
send me a day
cold and unseen
trimmed with the sky
the commander of moors
are you here of your own

Steel blue gaze
I appreciated your concern
slipping on anger
like a glove
but I’m a guest
Very well then
the high land
of galloping hooves
a heaviness
the standing stones
my own people on tumbling sands
respect or hostility?
the mud clung
with no recognition
a child that has seen too much.

a village
enemy territory
but the horses were tall
the men fierce
will you sing me a song?

follow me
the lilac surprise
a story to tell
Are you famished?
Need I say more?
You may look the part
informally the chief
I fail to
understand a single word
at best.

Yellow bulbs clashed with neon light 
the coffee was stale.
What’s this?
dark sunlight
tall medieval windows
a tragic death
a progressive plan
for the asylum.
The chandelier caught
the light bulb flashes
and bounced off
- a day of celebration.
Land is coming his way
and the plates must be

What did we share
you cross a line
freedoms we take for granted
on lands not our own.
Your sympathies are muddied
fired upon in broad daylight.

Dark shadows
shaped like books
turning the pages of
Holy Writ.
Are you hiding?