sunshine on closed eyes RSS

chazneeta@hotmail.com

Neets

Archive

Mar
11th
Wed
permalink
image title ‘cows on the lawn’
Exhibition title ‘Feed the beast that drives you’

this saturday.  I’m working on it now.  Well being distracted from working on it.

image title ‘cows on the lawn’

Exhibition title ‘Feed the beast that drives you’

this saturday.  I’m working on it now.  Well being distracted from working on it.

Mar
3rd
Tue
permalink
permalink
Jan
17th
Sat
permalink
click for more photo’s
click for more photo’s
Dec
29th
Mon
permalink

they taunted her

From the window I saw an older lady pass by.

.

.

How do we know she is different?

Her eyes don’t lift from the left of the pavement.

She doesn’t seem to walk as much as shuffel

Her hair is dirty.

I think about drawing

Most people who have passed have made me think of drawing.

.

.

Time passes and she returns

But this time shouts proceed her

Boys have found her.

.

.

How do they know she is different?

Everyone is scared of them.

How do they know she is easy game.

Do they know she is  vulnerable?

Do they know what that means?

.

.

There are three of them

Passing slightly off to the back and left of her

Walking on the road and the pavement

The tall one closest to her

Says things to her loudly

They jeer 

.

.

To her they can act like this

She is different

She is alone

.

.

I boil

I scramble for my keys

They are passing

I get to the door

But it’s not mine so I struggle with the unfamiliar lock

Giving up I leave it

.

.

I get out but they are gone

I stand in the middle of the road

And watch them throw the last taunts

As the boys head left and she goes on.

.

.

She did not lift her head to them

She did not interact

Did she leave her world for them

Or shuffle oblivious and unaware

.

Will I be her one day?

.

.

I leave my scowl on the tarmac 

And strutt back in

On closing the door I remember

No prayer left me as I left it.

Removing my shoes

I feel shame on my pride

And wish it could come off as easily.

Dec
17th
Wed
permalink
permalink
permalink
Dec
13th
Sat
permalink
Dec
12th
Fri
permalink

All that I have is just passing through my hands.

Tonight there’s an all invite art swap happening at the gray’s art school.  

I’ve been working on a couple of things for it. Now I see them I think.

‘But I don’t want to give them away.’

So I’m reminding myself that every thing I have is just passing through my hands.

Pass Pass

Nov
18th
Tue
permalink

Muster Point

The artists collective Muster Point is shortly launching it’s wee website.  How exciting. It now also has two separate spaces which will soon be able to run exhibitions, sound events and other happenings. Exciting times.
permalink

A summary of this mornings thoughts.

The greatest moment of my life will be my departure. I say this not with a tone of morbidity but with full excitment.
Nov
12th
Wed
permalink
Sigur Ros
Sigur Ros
Nov
6th
Thu
permalink

No need for a pillow, but a pen

This nomadic existance is just fine.

But I need somewhere to work.

This somewhere is coming into being hopefully next tuesday.

A friends out house, from his rented flat.  And extension flex out the kitchen window and into me.  A studio I tell you!   That there shed will be my studio.

So one can expect a raised level of productivity.

That covers the pen and as for the pillow?

Well as I’ve said and felt before I am surrounded by kindness and hospitality.    Sleeping somewhere new sometimes nightly doesn’t seem to affect the goodness of it.   People are constantly very welcoming and giving.    I hope they get something from having me around.