Dessert Stand

EmmaSmith_1This little buddy is one of my newer pieces – a collection I call “Western Merriment”. This series is a group of objects that delight the everyday with whimsy, wonder and joy. This specific piece is a dessert stand for those days when you are feeling blue, and all you need is a lovely wood-fired porcelain object to eat your tasty morsels off of.

Who wants to eat a lovely cupcake off a regular old plate anyway?

By the way, this guy (or gal) is off to Philadelphia next week to be in a miniatures show called Small Favors. (note the lack of a “u” fellow Canadians?)

Pretty stoked, I am. Let’s hope this Timmy has a safe journey. Fingers crossed.

 

 

Spiritualize(+d)

For any of you who do not know what this is, you have your work cut out for you this evening. Spiritualized first album Lazer Guided Melodies is a highly recommended auditory experience that can be enjoyed through repeated listenings over regulated intervals.* Merry Christmas Robert Nagy. May I forever be haunted by not testing the font size properly before starting to paint on the letters.

DSC_0028
*Talk to your doctor before taking Spiritualized.

Friday, March 30th

I haven’t written anything in a while, except this strange collection, in response to a rather unsual and remarkably significant evening.

Excuse me, but you ruined my outfit. Please get a room, I was laughing so hard I spilled beer all over my pants.”

Disposable plastic cups

Disposable encouters

Disposeable impressions

Disposable chances

Disposable lovers

Disposable culture

Dispose of each-other?

Although the evening took me over, despite the chemistry within my blood, don’t forget what I told you. Because for a night you took me over, and I mean everything that I said.

Another change in direction

 

He staggered out of the water

like an unfinished thought,

his clumsy legs pushing against solid earth.

How the hell did we get here? He asked her.

 

She was too distracted with

the precarious placement of her scratched-up feet

to answer him. And besides,

She didn’t have the faintest idea.

Can you believe we only have two legs?

She giggled and gave him a sideways stare.

 

He knew exactly what she meant, however;

he had been in deep contemplation

of the intricacies of his hands,

admiring their architecture

and putting a piece of flint

through all sorts of dextrous gymnastics.

 

And thumbs, He said.

We were up by those trees a second ago;

now we’re down by the water!

 

In truth, their transition

had taken longer than they realized,

though they had been too occupied

to fully appreciate the gradual changes.

 

We’re gonna need clothes, she said.

They worked first with straw,

then with the furs of other creatures.

Primitive wraps, initially,

made without much thought,

soon became complex,

and much more ergonomic.

They keep you warm, he smiled.

 

Like fire! She had been eyeing

the piece of flint he’d been using

to strike sparks,

and, with it, set ablaze

a pile of straw and lichen

 

The couple rejoiced by the fire,

busy keeping it alight,

entranced by the rhythmic

crackle of the flames.

I like that! I like that sound!

She started to join into the rhythm,

occasionally breaking up the tapping with her song;

he responded with cautious delight.

 

Before long, she was making complex melodies

with her beautiful voice,

telling all of the stories she could remember.

The night diminished to a steady hum,

and she held him like a baby.

 

——————-

She closed the book, and realized he’d been sleeping,

Probably since the end of the last chapter.

She got up off the hammock,

lay down a blanket,

and kissed him on the head

 

Her feet felt clammy on the linoleum floor,

and the hum of the refrigerator made her dizzy.

What time is it? He asked, half-asleep,

Time for bed. She answered.

He paused, getting his senses in order,

How’d we get here?

 

She was too distracted with

the cups and dishes piled on the floor

to answer him. And besides,

she didn’t have the faintest idea.

 

 

-

Alphabet games [Alpha, Beta, Gamma]

When the cloud hit the deserted coast,

we stood, legs trembling; aspen stumps.

Excited sky dripped down our skin-turned-bark;

brought us to the ground like statues of sugar.

 

After months of throat-itch drought,

with its skin-flaking bays for moisture,

we find ourselves drenched bare,

cheeks dissolving in electric earth.

 

Expanding grasses find freedom on our faces,

stimulated by the pulsing deluge.

Turf-borne raindrops climb our eyes;

elemental tears, at last reclaimed

 

Eyes fix on fallen bags, sodden on the dirt, wherein

Scholarly black ink runs kaleidoscopic colours.

Recycled terminology turns to stream-of-consciousness,

and momentary panic begets delight.

 

Dissolved, we learn the meaning of less,

What meaningless means,

and when our words fizzle out,

worlds start to blossom.

 

Cloud Pillars

you are green clouds perched on the tallest pillar,
you are the lowest flowing dreams of humanity.
keeping us on our toes always reaching for more,
you reject the selfish and reward the kind and true.
to believe the book is to doubt your brilliance,
to trust the theory is to ignore your mastery.
would you dare to dream of a man-less place ?
i know that i could not live in a land that lacks you.
your mind knows great and grand of a world without me,
a perfect earth so clean and whole, an entire soul.
my memory knows not of any terrible sadness yet felt,
if you were to leave me for that memory not forgotten.
to forgive the crippling burdens we bestowed upon you,
a cure lingering into the howling years we eagerly await,
your answer to our sinful ways…
we may die before we hear.

RISE RISE!

Medium: Black and White Crayon on Paper

Audio Accompaniment – Hold My Hand – UNKLE

I am born again.

Man made government is an opinion, a belief of authority which exists solely on the premises of its own inherent importance, which could be discontinued at any point. Man has become so enthralled with this superficial creation that he is losing sight of the very boundaries of both reality and reason. Does not the health of the planet take value and priority over the economy, another apparent creation of man to satisfy his intrinsic, programmed selfishness and greed, to which the conditions of the Earth and the human soul are immune? Does not the wind trespass upon every nation of the world, and receive no consequence for this? God, may you be kind and steadfast, for my heart is weak and I am only a child molded from the clay of the Earth.

Tickling the OH! Spiky Spirit

All locations are dry, upland habitats on ridges or near the transitions of woodlands and meadows.

every precious human being.

Her soft satin belly, like a tiny ocean, sways
With each breath comes a mighty tiny rumble
Inside her rugged, comfortable, mobile cage,
She sleeps
Like just a solid chunk of temporary flesh

This improbable, natural machine, after all,
Seems to “feel”
Maybe “I” should “care”

A million trees repeat themselves.
The dark, the heat and stagnant air
nod a hundred heads in seats to sleep.
Stops at all the Circle K’s. This one stays
still and sound, head down. Blinding glints
of grey-white sky flash from bog-patches
like shattered glass in an underpass.

He’s undisturbed for hours. Trucks pass,
gears clash. A radio drifts on and slowly
off again. That’s when they see the stain.
He wakes, dazed. A steward sighs. His face
rash-red, he ambles to the back. With him
a sour cloud of piss-rank khaki. Aisles gag
and wake as damp night sags over the maples.

1,2,3 FUN!

1,2,3 FUN!

garbage juice reads the classics: patty sue

a belated birthday present for a pretty girl. one day itll be a song (talent permitting)

upon request:

Her skirt is made of cotton, it disappears when it gets wet
Her breasts made of cashmere emblazoned like She’s in the infantry
the longer She stretches, She’s small but She’s made out of plasticine
I screw up my eyes and I focus on a spot on Her cheek near to me

but when I speak Her bones are crushed into dust
every time makes a noise I don’t like to think about
I try to hurt Her, try too hard, I hurt myself
I know how it feels to be too tall for the ceiling, too short for the shelves

I work really hard at my job to make money to buy Her a ticket to Canada
And I work really hard with the pen and the paper to make sure She knows I’m not mad at Her
I ride on the bus and it takes me to places and sometimes it takes me to Her place
but usually it takes me to places I’d rather not be unless maybe She came along with me

don’t you know everything ever comes apricot flavoured
it drips down my chin as I smile at the neighbours
they tell me son, money ain’t nothing but paper
I mean when it’s not food and when it’s not labour

one day I’ll make some money and we’ll move to some property in the arctic
we’ll build a house out of plate glass and iron scraps and we’ll live in it
we’ll grow things like string beans and other things that can’t grow there like trees
we’ll break through the permafrost to dig up the fertile soil beneath

and if we’re careful we might see the fruits of our labour
and if we’re careful it might be like that forever
and if She has patience I might want to talk to strangers
and if I kill everyone it might keep Her out of danger

the rivers are empty let’s fill them with mercury
She is my Venus and I want Her near to me
our love will shape the valleys and we’ll use them to get around
the highways will be waterways when once they were paved ground

cause the ground is a skin the earth sheds by the minute
the ground is a skin the earth sheds by the minute
the ground is a skin the earth sheds by the minute

I tell Her my world is an empty world when You’re not in it
my world is an empty world when You’re not in it
my world is an empty world when You’re not in it

designated/existence.

Inherent existence refuted
Phenomena as like illusions
No thing is independent
Release from the bondage of attachment

The past is in body
The future is in mind

A small flame spreads
Just as affliction grows
The antidote is virtue

10 000 obstacles
A battleground within
Patience truly tested
By the most able of teachers

The enemy
Deserves compassion most

guitar music

THAT MAKES TWO OF US

and the paint gave us a headache…

blood/man.

goats/<3.

goats/<3.

g’night sweet goats.

belle (mother) passed on just weeks later.

g’night belle.

you’re too far away

Did I get to sleep today?
didn’t i?
Is there enough light?
I can’t see
i’m tired or i’ve misplaced my glasses

I can’t sleep
it’s dark i think but
theres light inside my stomach
and it shines on the back of my eyelids
or else someones making noise
are you making noise?

No, you’re too far away
and any noise you make is irrelevent
or strange when it reaches me
or at least
i couldnt dream of responding
its too tight or narrow
it wasn’t built with someone of my size in mind
how about my size? everythings changing and i cant tell a nickel from a dime
How should I remember what it looked like?

You’re too far away and it feels like arrows
I’m not at home
I have no home.
Are you home?

I met a nice woman with a nice ass
She winked at me and not too many people wink
my hands hurt they’re covered in splinters
wrapped in gauze cut bandages and packing tape?
no
some blisters and some bleeding only
but they feels like im not there for you

where are you?
are you home? where should i put these beauty supplies?
you’re BEAUTIFUL
god damnit you’re so fucking BEAUTIFUL
theres no words i couldnt tell you
im slipping from the page
theres too much
i want to get fucked up and forget all about this but tomorrow these words will still be here

I’m the most important thing in the world to you
and to my body
its too late
its personified
its eating me away im rotting like meat
im meat like rotting

im too much concrete in too little space
and im starting to set

my chemicals are punchlines and it hurts my feelings
my punchlines hurt me
ow
FUCK
SHIT
UP
i wish i was drunk i wish i was stoned i wish i was fucked up i wish i was trashed  i wish i was wasted i wish i pissed myself
my stomach is full of piss and my bladder is full of lead
Help me!
Call a doctor!

pens scratch itches
i have nothing to write down but
i think the sound of the pen against the paper is
keeping me from killing myself
so instead i use words
even though wors and scratch pen noises
are entirely different things

I don’t know if the average person could tell the difference
even if their life depended on it
like mine does

I don’t want music
You’re too far away
I don’t want a cigarette
You’re too far away
I don’t want to eat fish
its flakey and it tastes like sedimentary rock
You’re too far away
I dont want to make toast
You’re too far away
I don’t want to put sandals on
You’re too far away
I don’t want to spend my money
I don’t want to save my money
You’re too far away
I don’t want to miss you
You’re too far away
I don’t want to do pull ups or shovel shit or split wood or drink coffee or smoke a cigarette or play guitar or laugh in your face
You’re too far away
I don’t want to have a cigarette
You’re too far away

You live like me I think
in boxes and in between walls
we’re human being insulation
insulating human being bones
my bones will not give my body up
it comes off in strips like boy jerky
kid fabric
waste product

metal is sick
the stainless steel is ill and
ceramic tiles are filled with disease when they get wet

Are you sick?
I miss you
come back
im sorry
im sorry
i cant believe im doing this to you

does this count as fabric? i still cant tell but
this time i still dont care
i mean
this time it seems like it might be glass
or  plastic
or maybe it’s water or a cricket
or a stream or a peice of paper
loose leaf like autumn

why am i doing this?
it makes me feel cold
its cold in here and its not worth it
you’re too far away

When I read these words tomorrow
some of them will be good words
and some of them will be bad words
and none of them will be true
that’ll take years

It’ll take a year and a half for you to live with me.

in half a year it’ll take a year
and in a year it’ll take half a year
how many years is this going to take?
you’re too far away

now I’m starting to feel as if
I’ve brushed my teeth and I’m heading for bed
you’re still too far away
but if you arent here today
you might be tomorrow
I can’t prove otherwise
I’m going to brush my teeth
and take off my pants for you
roll a cigarette for you
close my eyes for you
all it takes is eyelids and the years arent even there
the miles arent even there
and its not too dark to see
or too bright to think
the music turns off and the lights go out
the animals all stop
and you’re too far away
the lights all go out
and you’re too far away
I love you and
you’re too far away

but at least you’re somewhere
i’m always losing important things
because i forget all about them
but i know where you are

greengrass/tunnel.

greengrass/tunnel.

i would miss art-time dearly, i truly would, fortunately though: “every time there is is art-time”… i’m pre-occupied with the art of the farm these days and feel as though i am, myself, part of a living, breathing, pulsating system of lifeforms/artforms.. life is grand, living is grander.

more posts to come soon..

<3 om

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