spat rid the riddle (free of duels)

FlowersForFlorentina1

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Flowers for Florentina 14″ x 11″ acrylic / linen

A hello to all my fellow dreamers! Searching for answers in all dream states, I have come to find out everything is a really just a dream – just like the song says.  So a Toast to all! Salud! and just keep dreaming!

Spat Rid the Riddle (free of duels)

Everything’s a dream, a dream so really real,

hauntingly convincing,

flood of appeal,

searching right questions, elegance concealed,

tightly twisted tango (dance) slowly revealed.

Slaying the master and finding a fool,

spat rid the riddle free of duels,

reach for the mistress, loving the cat,

bring forth the summoned maker of jewels!

Inventor, creator, of sorts innovator,

Where is your favorable challenge?

A well within the hidden skin,

a stunning source to manage.

Dreamers are a such a bunch… in sooth awake?

Questioning all infinity circle,

Never keenly knowing reality at stake.

When nothing much matters – where do we go?

How to keep going when there is no show?

Bring forth the clowns, the jester, the fool,

inventor, creator, of sorts innovator.

What is your favorable tool?

Clarity unfolding chaotic conjecture, (guess)

where beauty and breath are re-schooled.

Bat Trapped in a Studio Tale

TheStand1

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz The Stand (La Parada) 12″ x 6″ acrylic / canvas

ScarredIconBebeII

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Scarred Icon Bebe II 24″ x 18″ acrylic, tobacco leaves, gesso / canvas

The two paintings above are intricately involved in a recent event in my studio that inspired me to write a story about it.

The event occurred in the month of June and led me to tell the tale in a non conventional format. Here is the account in verse form – I do admit it was not easy to write, although it was quite fun – hope you enjoy!

 

Bat Trapped in a Studio Tale

The light of dusk is slowly fading,

a sturdy metal studio chair

bears me,

certain sounds patter to my right;

somewhere near my paintings by chance,

maybe butterfly or moth in flight,

in the limelight desiring dance.

Where initially I am startled,

as the noise is not too soft,

I assume enormous is this moth,

I get up and try to find out.

Let the movement continue,

this assembled situation,

allow to pinpoint the position,

approaching spot of suspicion,

so stunned a tiny talon, I believe is what I saw,

what is this I question, a butterfly with a claw?

I realize this no insect,

as I identify its condition,

a mammal in fact it seems,

a bat trapped in location,

how is this to be?

My studio doors are always open,

(not some hotel in California),

they can check-in any time they like,

and they can always leave.

Winged herald quest of liberation,

paintings are a puzzle or a maze,

searching for possible locations,

structures the senses do amaze.

The choice to be secluded,

behind the work: “The Stand”,

few canvases I remove,

to acquire some advance,

in some ways quite befitting,

a shamans’ show of stance,

of somehow stating something,

of pointing way direction,

of awareness nature yearning,

of myth or dream of own.

I wish to show it outside,

to thrust this traveler free,

pull the shackles from its wings,

but then it changes paintings,

to a more delicate entree;

a tobacco covered work,

the fragile “Scarred Icon Bebe (II)”,

which quite reluctant I am to shake.

(I hear my spouse advise,

“you must turn off the lights,

the brightness has made it ‘blind'”.

How then can I see? I nonchalantly replied;

and guard my hand from the likes

of viable capricious bites.)

Heeding her suggestion,

I proceed to dim the luster,

behind the painted canvas,

its courage begins to muster,

he finds a way to slither,

then start to fly around,

and round the room in circles,

and miss by much the door,

it crawls again exhausted,

and seems to kiss the floor.

My compassion therefore swollen,

it’s persistence I admire,

I approach this hero fallen,

entangled in its desire.

Flight finding freedom!

Out the door with a hover,

although difficult to fathom,

nature urges such a ponder,

instantly I have been heartened,

at last did it recover!

Flight Mind Helicopters and The Flamenco Observer

FlamencoObserver

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz The Flamenco Observer 36″ x 30″ acrylic / canvas

 

In keeping with the theme of the entry and the painting “Wednesday Evening at Casa Andalucia” I am including a self portrait that was commenced around the same time as the painting

and that was largely based on the experiences during that time. It was also put aside for a number of years, was later restarted, then stored away for some more years until finally completed last year. This self portrait reflects somewhat on the powerful energy, dynamic movement, and soulful embodiment of the Flamenco experience.

As with most of the poems I’ve included in this site, the following is partially based on the current painting ‘Flamenco Observer” and recent dreams. Enjoy!

 

Flight Mind Helicopters

No criticisms, always silent,

whenever present, always here,

when:

I laugh, you laugh back.

I have fear, you simply don’t.

There is chaos, you have peace.

There is joy, you notice well.

Who are you I ask,

I see you “seeing” me,

when:

I dance, you follow.

I paint, you observe.

I sing, you respond.

I make strings resonate, you listen.

I jump, you fly.

Parallel lines of dream mind,

that do not want to kiss,

square and circle skyscrapers,

rebuild and re-dismiss,

helicopters of every kind,

abound blue skies amiss,

two flying backwards,

soaring past my sight,

boxy metal frame works,

street level fly bus,

clear bubble roundness,

crash the wall on high.

Across abandoned corner,

hovers illegal loneliness,

carve a mountain with a tunnel,

dark dungeon of unknown,

animate your brightness,

as I walk me back home.

Atado y Rebota Asfixiantes Besos (Rebound and Bound Asphyxiating Kisses – Spanish Version)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Re-Member 24″ x 18″ acrylic / linen

 

Atado y Rebota Asfixiantes Besos

 ∗

Si pudiera soñar de belleza torrencial,

cascadas deseos en envolturas de uno,

juego inundando la trampa intencional,

cosquillosa intensidad la alborada de sol.

Rugidos creados corren reinos de trueno,

tan vivo y real inmediatos inventos.

Simbólico paradigma reaparece en escena,

cambiando forma exponiendo desnudo lienzo.

Mi abrigo, porque arrastra este rabo haragán,

sin percatarse aun de su procedencia destino?

Donde esta mi ropa mi desnudez me grita!

…en relativos amigos la decepción sí abunda,

engañando al sabio con sus maniobras tontas.

Atado y rebota asfixiantes besos,

lengua que sofoca el quemado rojo infierno,

regocijo en la selección que en mi se otorga,

trémulo liso de delicioso torso.

Refractor refrescante de curvados cañones,

gracioso y capaz de tan ágiles danzas,

dibujando contornos de terrenales saltos,

de hinchados flujos y mareante las olas,

que sobre mi cabeza descansan y chocan,

con este silencio que tanto desata.

Rebound and Bound Asphyxiating Kisses

La Nueva Nena 2014 acrilico:papel 100% algodon (sellado) 76 x 57cm.tiff

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz La Nueva Nena (The New Girl) 30″ x 22.5″ acrylic / 100% cotton paper (sealed)

 

A recent work that showed up synchronistically as I went through some changes in the studio.

As has been the norm for a few of the previous posts I am including a poem partially reminiscent of this painting and a few fresh dreams.

 

Rebound and Bound Asphyxiating Kisses

If I could dream of torrential beauty,

cascading desires into envelopes of one,

playfulness flooding intentional trickery,

ticklish intensity morning of sun.

Rumblings created run thunderous realms,

instantaneous inventions so alive and real.

Symbolic paradigms reappearing in scene,

shape shifting, undressing sheets that are bare.

Why is my coat dragging this slothful tail,

in ways unaware of such fated proceed?

Where are my clothes my nakedness screams,

deception abounds in relative friends,

fooling the wise man with simpleton moves.

Rebound and bound asphyxiating kisses,

smothering tongue of red burn inferno,

rejoice in the choice bestowed me upon,

smoothing recoil of delectable torso.

Cooling refractor in curvaceous canyon,

skillful and nimble of dances agile,

mapping contours of these earthly plunges,

of tidal surfs and swollen surges,

that crash and rest my head upon this boundless silence.