For some reason power of Swan is back in my life big time.!
I keep seeing swans everywhere, popping up in both real time, conversation and on line. Divinely poking my sub-consciousness.
Once, in Munich, I turned around quickly to see a swan flying directly toward me, a bolt of lightning split the scene, swan and foreground all lit by the blazing sun against a black, black, storm cloud, backdrop. Such a moment of powerful beauty and clarity. No camera would have been quick enough!
So I thought I’d have a go at illustrating that memory.
Probably will return to this subject matter, in the future, as it was intended to be a quick pen and ink….the first version took 5 hours to work out, the second version only two, but I made a few stupid mistakes….and I have not the energy to keep working with this!
This link will take you to an exert from a techno-poetry performance I was performing in galleries back then, that also has a ‘swan’ reference.
Found this related piece of automatic writing also, written in 1996.
Flimsy in timeless, gruesome heat.
Auburn textured tunes of other times.
Marching on weary calloused feet.
Crawling now on hands and knees.
Please, please, please, please.
A great swan, like a star, flies into a blackened gap, like a void.
A glowing, auric asteroid and screaming the song,
Willowed fancy bent her neck with grace.
Flow into the pen-song, sing if you like, sing along.
Allow the voices to creep up beside you
Muscle sing and sinew.
Breathe the universe and smile.
Sit a while.
It is a privilege, to many misunderstood,
That to burble, like a stream unconscious, can be good.
Our downfall lies in our endless need to control.
Towelling. Dry them all away.
Put on your clothes and pack away our bare defenceless nudity.
Not good to see where we are from.
Cover it up – hide it away.
My God what would the neighbours say.
Not good to examine the pore and sweat.
A living body is more than that.
We should live only for soul and hide away.
The body that carries us day after day.
Let it be tangled with lust and sin.
After all it’s only a bag we keep our egos in.
But lust and sin, lust and sin, the pinnacle point of our marketing.
Selling the sack that we keep our souls in.
Moulding and crafting, perfection the key.
Only the perfect retain free nudity.
For the soul must show shame for its wrinkles and bulges
Cry in its prison and hide from the vultures.
Skin and love.
Comfort and sweaty love-making begin.
Nudity a barefaced crime.
Imperfection in mirror eyes