Don the Fend Folly (or Cumbrous Cave Fulvous Throne)

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Earth Flight – Promethea 12″ x 9″ acrylic / linen

In this oneiric tale I am invited to partake by my anima in a beautiful although frightening challenge.

I am then led steadily downward towards an underground chamber to encounter the Keeper of this subterranean domain.

The painting Tierra Vuelo – Prometea (Earth Flight – Promethea) is related on several levels to the poetry included in this post and subtly suggests the theft of the fire of creativity or creation.

Cumbrous Cave Fulvous Throne or Don the Fend Folly

A slightly sloped sidewalk

downward I do stride

multilevel sea view Anima me guides

diminutive ridge handrails trace scene tide

She’s close to sheer cliff

vegetation prime eyed.

Hesitation unwelcome in sharing her view

“come closer to edge observe down bijou”

nerve racked and alarmed reach rail I approach

slope height even lower this vertigo broach

prostrate and face up look down from the floor

tight torso slight lifted safe gaze eerie score.

Distinct invitation trail down passage way

I see water in exit sand also conveyed

(though not as effective construction dismayed).

We embark descent stroll routeing terrain encounter

basement dungeon is dark earthy flow moisty mountain

old hermit custodian ancient guardian fine wreaker

realm artifact steward dormant wine wisdom keeper.

Plank summit top table ornate vitreous bright jar

prepackaged clear pairs full round from afar

glass cradle of earplugs seem ripen rouge grapes

uneven cut boulders sum daunting landscape.

Reach crystal container retrieve packaged pair

(and ask the old man if it’s true that I can

He replies “No” emphatic, “tis mine, not to share.”

I mock to myself – ‘No worries Sultan…’)

plenty they’re from and remain with no care.

I don the fend folly grape earplugs of ice

two globules cold ears stroll cellar suffice

daft domain demands unearth once them all

rule dungeon quite tricky as slab made step stones.

Flight vertical labyrinth

Cumbrous cave Fulvous throne.

Equinox Autumn Echo

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz (Untitled/Unfinished -In Process) 66″ x 48″ acrylic / canvas

The unfinished and as of yet untitled painting above seems in a way rather fitting for the following autumn reflection of a spring dream I transcribed some months ago.

You might find the poem based on the dream sequence, of a similar note to the poem Gorgeous Vine Vulva, in both I encounter and incorporate the anima or feminine creative energy alive in the subconscious. Enjoy!

Equinox Autumn Echo

Little girl in a dream song,

flashy purple colored dress,

singing like a rooster strong,

I’m laughing, feeling quite impressed.

A multitude of mimic masters,

bringing lavish mirror minds,

bombast bragging, furious, faster,

haste hassle bargains all the time.

I’m traveling through this naked realm,

shine clear torso my reflection,

physique is handsome at the helm,

less shirt struggles, less inspection.

At first I’m not surprised to find,

an echo feature, a well formed breast.

I perceive it from a pose of side,

bounty belle beauty upon my chest.

But then it struck me as quite strange,

this autumn equinox echo,

I must be dreaming this arrange,

from the spring life sleep of a loco.

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With my untitled, in process painting in my studio, trying for a lotus position on a stool.

Arcanum Song Fountain

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Llena Eres De Gracia (Full Of Grace) or Magdalena aprox. 30″ x 15″ acrylic / canvas

I’ve decided to post the image of the realist figurative painting “Full of Grace” after obtaining a higher quality photo recently.

It was first exhibited in the year 2013 and pairs somewhat well with the dream story poem “Arcanum Song Fountain” or “Ornate Vulva Heirloom”. The poem is an account of a dream where I receive a gift from a female artist friend. Enjoy!

Arcanum Song Fountain or (Ornate Vulva Heirloom)

Clear core talent creator empress,

sweet female artist friend of mine,

to bland and bluff her work’s averse,

bestowed on me great gift enshrined.

An intricate journal of uncommon blooms,

pink orchid designs in sketchbook deluge,

avalanche of angles, from all sides and views,

page after page of ornate vulva heirloom.

Believing her blossom is somewhat bizarre,

her bulging beginnings bring modest recall,

a self portrait in nude along with her lover,

arousal is obvious in the male from afar.

Untangled unconscious, arcanum song fountain,

repertoire viewpoints of symbols expands,

grateful act gracious, gift fertile fine feminine,

notebook of drawings is now in dream hands.

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With my painting “Magdalena” in my studio, deciding whether to change the frame or not.

Bat Trapped in a Studio Tale

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

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©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!

Fake Keys and Stolen Jokers

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Ibis 16″ x 12″ acrylic / linen

Most of the dream inspired poems which I have posted in this blog have been inspired also by recent paintings. In the case of the poem “Fake Keys and Stolen Jokers” or “An Ibis Peck” I had practically finished the poem and none of the paintings currently in process seemed to work well within the verses.

There was one painting which might have also worked but I was a bit reluctant to use since it was not completed. I decided to look around the studio and found the painting “Ibis” which initially did not seem to work well either but had something going for it and after a paused contemplation the verses started to flow and work.

Enjoy.

Fake Keys and Stolen Jokers (or “An Ibis Peck”)

Juicy awesomeness is a pillow,

sweet weary heavy head,

second floor extension cords,

wrap the city pulling (cables),

see myself quite outside,

changing paths and finding fast,

noticing lines that barely arrive.

Beak pecking wisdom,

divine encounter,

Ibis floating amidst my shoulder,

repeat revelations undoubtedly unknown,

some secret spirals are bound to the bone,

others not so, and need to be grown:

“Those in charge are seldom present,

always walking towards town,

wrong direction wayward ride,

shattered glass streetside parking,

truth be heading countryside”

Anxious moms’ car broken into,

keys are fake and stolen jokers,

give a goddamn call and tell,

blue burning wax hand brokers

(fuming ears and foaming mouth),

are now big boss race car drivers.

Some men learn to shake the hands,

to unearth the works of lost crayons,

and fill the blanks of timed exams;

below the table beneath the calm,

wrench the cables and extract my arm.

Flight Mind Helicopters and The Flamenco Observer

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©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.

Wednesday Evening at Casa Andalucía

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Wednesday Evening at Casa Andalucía 48″ x 60″ acrylic / canvas

 

The painting “Wednesday Evening at Casa Andalucía” began conceptualization around the year 2001 as I immersed myself in a self imposed drawing and observation study of professional flamenco dancers and students training at the beautiful Casa Andalucía in the city of Guaynabo.

The practices took place Wednesday evenings under the direction of the famed maestro Antonio Santaella and had an entrancing sort of effect on me that allowed me to travel approximately four hours round trip from Aguadilla and back every Wednesday for various months, without even the slightest complaint.

The impact of being absorbed in the fascination of live flamenco guitar rhythms, singing, and dancing was spectacular and immensely fertile – producing many sketches where I made attempts to capture the energy, flow, rhythm, nostalgia, and ancestral connection, that reverberated through my blood and still does. Although the actual painting was initiated in the year 2003, I was not satisfied with the result and left it alone for a few years, then in 2006 I worked on it some more, was not satisfied, and left it alone again (in storage) for another seven years till being completed in 2013.

As any fine wine connoisseur will attest, aging for the right amount of years makes all the difference. I currently believe the work has reached a level of maturation to appropriately convey some of the feelings and aspects inherent in me as I became cocooned in a sensorial and extra-sensorial extravaganza.

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

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

 

Atado y Rebota Asfixiantes Besos

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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.

Rojizo Nebuloso Oscuridad Secreta (Misty Reddish Secret Darkness – Spanish version)

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©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Red Curtains (detail) 30″ x 40″ acrylic / linen

Rojizo Nebuloso Oscuridad Secreta

o Perladas Porciones Femeninas

Sucumbe al deleite,

ser franco ansioso,

en la belleza, permiteme reposo,

de sueños ocultos bajo flujo de sombras,

relajados ángulos, retornando curvas,

costillas apenas circulan,

reciben aplauso silencioso,

derrumben pesares, tus coyunturas ordenan,

lo invisible poseyendo,

atrapando nocturno vuelo.

Suculento torso color textura,

multi-respiro ágil espíritu,

misterio de cortina roja,

buscame refugio,

de la corriente nebulosa.

Suela rosa para zapato azul,

donde estas, bajo cubierta?

Cordón con distinto ojal,

donde quiera cajas sobran,

mi medida sin encontrar.

Abraza mi pies con mano en oración,

al mito y a la razón,

de la fábula y la ilusión,

envuelta en fase confusión,

de gradas trampas acertijos,

arrastrando repleta escalera,

gateando hacia arriba,

viraje brusco, subiendo abajo,

sin tiempo!

Laberinto que vale entrar,

desdoblando, engaño recurrente,

debe haber otra cuerda,

y ahora a descubrir!

Del abismo Ariadna canta.

Femenina porción perlada,

desconcertante creadora,

nueve meses biblioteca andrógina,

maestra de la flora,

de madrugada venusiana alhaja,

de partícula onda y vuelta,

de movida intervención,

de motivo o de materia,

de místicos instintos,

de posible percepción.

Y estrangulando lo selecto, contemplad!

Nacida existencia de ilusión.