Woman


This is but a tiny detail from a major work I will be painting this year. The works has as it's subject the femmine, both literally in terms of the female body/anatomy, but also in terms of the generative field that the feminine represents..and incidentally I expect it to be finished in around 9-10 months time. It's impossible for a man to experience the subjective reality that is the femminine, but I would say that perhaps as an artists that gives birth to paintings I do know something about the act of creating. That is of course the type of analogy that would send shudders of rage through a pregnant woman heavy with child. My commitment is slightly less demanding.

Kali Yuga..."The Age of Darkness"

Did you know that.....

In the United States at the end of 2001, 10% of the population owned 71% of the wealth, and the top 1% controlled 38%. On the other hand, the bottom 40% owned less than 1% of the nation's wealth.

As a community college teacher and an artist involved in the "art world"..I've seen all levels of this demographic.
  • ^ "Why it is hard to share the wealth"

  • ^ "Wealth Inequality Charts"

  • And yet strangely no one in America seems to be concerned in the least bit that this may lead to social instability.
    All Empires and Grand Societies are destined for destruction inevitably, we can thank Shiva for that. When the end comes I'll be toasting marshmellows in the warm glow. Perhaps this age might end up being "biblical" afterall...

    Strange


    It was a strange week..feels like something shifted in timbre with the universe, well mine anyways. I've been hibernating..one of those periods of silence between sound. We wouldn't hear music without the rest in between notes. Re-group, start again. Repetition..difference. Cabin fever results in posting meandering notes at 4:00am. I'm not sure if anyone reads this crap (I kind of hope not)..guess I should've caved and joined myspace..but to all friends..happy holidays. Jesus was a great man..but the Gnostics say that we are all sons of God..so I'm still not that impressed with the dude. His shit probably stank like anyone elses. All the rest..I wasn't there for the walking on water and such..so again..not impressed. No man is God.. but all men are god. And it all works out. Even when it's awful. In fact that's why it's good. Amen.

    Kinetosis

    been "curating" over at wyncko..







    I've been grouping by color pallette and such..click the image for a really cool(i think so anywyays) larger view.
  • wyncko


  • And just because I'm doing this whole "wyncko" thing doesn't mean I still don't love my other two pet projects (see 2006/2007 in jacquesdebeaufort.net)..what can I say..I'm a complicated guy. Dig? By the way..these are all "sketches" in photoshop the actual paintings will differ substantially and be quite painterly..

    Los Angeles



    ...from the top of N. Beaudry Ave.

    Professor Jacques


    my bookish side.......
  • Professor Jacques
  • Driving on the Freeway as a Transcendental Metaphor


    The above title may indeed appear at first a fatuous attempt at finding some sort of silver lining in what most Angelinos likely consider a brutally mindless and de-humanizing chore..and I actually do agree..but spending as much time as I have punching the clock on The Great Asphault Snake..eventually I have come to realize the poetics embedded within this common experience. Mostly it has to do with the ritual participation in what appears to be an infinite mass of anonymous humanity flowing endlessly from nowhere to nowhere at a great speed and ferocity that would lead most to the impression that there actually was anywhere that needed to be gotten to at such a velocity. The individual must shed all pretense of difference and engage in a spontaneously choreographed river of movement which is simultaneously authored by everyone..and therefore no one. Although the vehicle is a shell of sorts..you realize that in the end, the only thing more impressive about an SUV or other fancy car is really just that your dead and mangled body would be draped and crushed within a more expensive and shiny coffin. This is why I find this particular method of transportation so compelling as a spiritual metaphor: because as a liminal process..being neither here nor there..not only are all markers of identity and illusions of self effectively erased..we can see a deeper question of existence cast into sharp relief. The road is time..and one day we will come to the end of this linear path. Those who were driving so fast will wish they had slowed down a bit. But inevitably even the slowpokes will pull into that last driveway and pull the keys from the ignition that one last time. There is no good reason why our lives have ended up this way..why we must endure the specific hardships of contemporary life instead of more ancient woes such as Bubonic Plague or ritual flagellations..but then again there's no good reason for anything. Better to watch the endless play and movement of this formidable beast with a reverent wonder and realize that like all else..one day the freeways will run dry and pull into their own Last Stop.

    Dead Meadow at the Troubadour, 12/9/06


    I was thinking about writing a few words about the show but then I realized how pointless that would be. Words are clumsy. The medium is the message. So sorry,..I guess you had to be there. Anyways..here's a snapshot.

    Dead Meadow


    ...Dead Meadow is my New Favorite Band.
    This is what I like about these cute rocker kids...I get older...they stay the same age.
    Plus they're from Washington DC, which is where I grew up if you didn't know. Our Mayor smoked crack..
    Dead Meadow is kind of like what my paintings would sound like if they could be songs...take that as you will.
  • Dead Meadow
  • Mick Jagger recites "Adonais" by Shelley


    Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Adonais" (selected verses)

    Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep -
    He hath awakened from the dream of life -
    'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
    With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
    And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
    Invulnerable nothings. -We decay
    Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
    Convulse us and consume us day by day,
    And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

    The One remains, the many change and pass;
    Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
    Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
    Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
    Until Death tramples it to fragments. - Die,
    If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
    Follow where all is fled! - Rome's azure sky,
    Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
    The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

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