Friday, September 13, 2013

Saturday Night Soup for the Soul (19)

he year of mourning ends next week. April 21st. Next week's soup will be an expression of joy and saddness, of smiles and of tears. I leave tomorrow, or Sunday, for another road trip, back to the geological lands of lava flows and of the apocalyptic flood to end all floods. I find great peace at this time standing on and gazing upon the lands where it passed through so long ago.

Here are pictures of my leaving Spokane and heading south along one of the branches of the great flood. The house in the second picture is several blocks from the bluff overlooking the Spokane river and is the home that my mother grew up in. I have many happy memories visiting my grandparents who lived here until shortly before they died.

I headed south thru intermittent howling whirlwinds of dusty snow, alternating with gentle patches of brisk and bright spring sunlight, thru rolling hills of winter and spring wheat, and skirting along the edges of the still barren and ravaged scab lands left by the roaring flood.of the apocalypse.

Finally I drove into the zone of devastated landscape, descending in altitude until I reached the edge of the canyon of Palouse river, and of Palouse falls.

The Queen of Light took her bow, And then she turned to go,
The Prince of Peace embraced the gloom, And walked the night alone. Oh, dance in the dark of night, Sing to the morning light.

The dark Lord rides in force tonight, And time will tell us all.
Oh, throw down your plow and hoe, Rest not to lock your homes.

Side by side we wait the might of the darkest of them all.
I hear the horses' thunder down in the valley below,
I'm waiting for the angels of Avalon, waiting for the eastern glow.

The next squall was bearing down on me and I snapped these last pictures of the falls and of the canyon. Then I drove back up onto the plateau, past horizons of spring wheat fantasia, and on back to Spokane.

Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as white as snow
Those are the hill of heaven, my love
You and I'll never know
Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as dark as night
Those are the hills of hell-fire my love
Where you and I will unite

I went to Manito Park in Spokane, a place of many ancient childhood memories of days long passed.

I drove due west on highway 2, across across the rolling landscape headed towards the barrier that holds back the mighty Columbia River: the Grand Coulee Dam.

I left Grand Coulee and ventured across a landscape littered with stray boulders the size of houses and across the final flood channel towards the Cascade Mountains, and home.

And now let us break bread and share Saturday Night Soup.

1. The Battle of Evermore is Led Zeppelin's epic which is commonly believed to be based on events in The Return of the King , primarily The Battle of the Pelennor Fields, in the final volume of J. R. R. Tolkien's fantasy book, The Lord of the Rings . "The drums will shake the castle wall, The ring wraiths ride in black".

2. Pomme Fritz is from  the 1994 debut release by UK group The Orb.  Their music is very  druggy, which if you have ever been "experienced", you will instantly recognize. Me?  I go back to the LSD generation.

3. House Carpenter is an outtake from Bob Dylan's first LP. I wrote extensively about it here.

All of this makes it's way into this week's soup.
You can get your bowl of Saturday Night
by clicking the jukebox.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Dream: "When You and Sleep Escape Me"

This post first appeared HERE as "WHEN YOU AND SLEEP ESCAPE ME".

I have been dreaming lots lately. Well, let me clarify that. I dream lots anyway, but recently I have had very vivid dreams that feel very symbolic. Yet I haven't been paying enough attention to them. Two nights ago I woke with heart a-racing, to discover the light of the full moon peaking through the only gap in the blinds, directly onto my forehead.

Last night I dreamt that I was in a huge, lush field, sitting by a wire fence, beyond which was a strip of grass and then a forest. On the outer edge of the forest, the trees were hazelnut. I could see several windfall hazelnuts on the grass just beyond the fence. So through I clamber to grab some. I get a handful, some of them were in doubles, covered in their leafy cases. Suddenly I hear and feel the thunder of horses' hooves, and look to my left to see four galloping towards me. I scamper back under the fence as they race past.

I sit and crack open the hazelnuts between two stones, remembering how succulent they are when they are so fresh. I want some more, so I dare myself to venture in again, and whilst I am picking some from the tree, here they come again. But this time I stand quietly just inside the trees, and watch. They seem to go by in slow motion and I just stare in awe.

When I woke up, still in darkness, I felt sure I could see the faint glow of a street-lamp shining through the gap in the wardrobe.......

Here is my analysis of thsi dream

Hum...seems vaguely sexual but not sure. Do you have a history with horses? By that, I mean is there some place you lived, or some place that had horses, or someone you know who has such an association? Or they might be primitive symbols of your own unleashed id. This is quite a nice dream story, mate. Very nice, and the sort that makes one want to get you onto their psychoanalyst’s couch.

Dreams are of course our sub-conscious and primitive brain parts communicating with us (i.e. chiming in with their two cents worth). It’s natural language is a linear series of picturographic (apparently I just invented a new word) scenes that are highly symbolic. White there are some universal symbols that would be common to human kind, the bulk are personalized to one’s cultural and personal experiences.

The BEST art (and why bother with any other kind???) plucks these same primitive subconscious strings. The visual arts probably come closest to the same language – visual symbols, though music is the highest and most hiu8ghly evolved of all the art forms. I like a lot of your photographs as you seem to instinctually tap into that vein – images that communicate with the viewing audience much like dreams do to the somnambulant person.

Friday, May 24, 2013

"Spanish Moss"

I painted this with Savannah in mind, with the large Oak trees draped in Spanish Moss. I have 29 days left in New Mexico and then I am gone from here forever.
"Spanish Moss"
20" x 20" x 3"
Acrylic on Canvas
Patiently waiting, TONY

Sunday, May 19, 2013

"This Life (Esta Vida) Part One"

the End
 that lies in
the bud of
every beginning as you read the story of Tony's "This Life (Este Vida) Part One"
PS: Click
El Cholito
to download a PDF