A moocher haiku

 

A haiku and I
were having coffee at Star-
Bux. You pay! it said.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Painting by J. B. with a little help from Artifice. As can be clearly seen, the haiku is only present in spirit.

Wall art / New Delhi, India

 Wall art found on a wall inside a house in New Delhi, India. Analog picture taken with a Diana Mini toy camera on Fuji C-200 film, scanned from negative and subjected to some cropping.

The imitation Picasso haiku

Some eyes like targets
somewhere, some nippled boobs,
a hoof, Mae West lips.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2014)

Note
Inspired by a painting from a Berlin art show photo. Would love to reproduce it here for better understanding, but fairness forbids.

The Mark Rothko haiku

Two bed sheets, one black,
the other vaguely blue, strung
together to dry.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2014)

Note
You might have guessed it: Mark Rothko is not among my favorite painters. Even though the entire art world seems to be all gaga about his big two- or three-colored bed sheets.

The Modigliani haiku

Squinty little eyes
and narrow face? Good chance it’s
an Amedeo.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2014)

Note
The above painting is Gypsy woman with baby (1919) by Amedeo Modigliani.

The John Singer Sargent haiku

John Singer Sargent, White Dresses (1911)

Two women slain in
battle? No – white dresses in
peace on parched grass...

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2014)

Note
When I first glimpsed this painting, my initial flash was that it represented an after-battle scene – bodies strewn on the ground, limbs sticking up.
The first real haiku I've written in a while ... with that sudden flash of recognition in the second half.

The lifetime achievement haiku

Pointed hats, pointed
people in undershirts and
different attire.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

First haiku in the artists haiku series.

The black haiku

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
– The Rolling Stones, Paint It Black

You said, paint it black,
so I did. Now everyone
calls me negative.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Written for Haiku Heights and black.

Note
Goes to show that you should not always listen to what people say.

Mera Cy Twombly

Talked to my daughter today, who told me she went to the Museum Brandhorst in Munich, where she saw paintings by Andy Warhol and Cy Twombly, to name the two that came to her mind first.

I proceeded to look at some of Twombly's art on the Internet and immediately started my own Twombly. My daughter told me that he worked with layers a lot, so I put down the first layer, in a mixture of Indian yellow and chrome yellow.

The plan for the next layer is still a bit fuzzy, but it could be something in a rusty red, perhaps some scribble-like structure.

Or some writing: मेरा साईं त्वोम्ब्ली 

Last weekend I drew a card that said 'purpose' and got the message. There has not been a lot of that in my life, and it's sorely needed.

One outcome of my purpose-finding mission is that I decided to write a novel, loosely based on Der im Irr-Garten der Liebe herum taumelnde Cavalier (1738) by Johann Gottfried Schnabel*, except that I would be staggering through the labyrinth of the later 20th and early 21st centuries instead of Schnabel's 18th.

Wish me good luck with Twombly and the maze novel.

Yours,

Leonard Cy Gottfried Blumfeld

*Schnabel is best known for his utopian robinsonade Die Insel Felsenburg of 1731.

Still life haiku

Work is still for the
duration of this still act,
disturbed by key clicks.

– Leonard “Sunday Morning” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Believe it or not, it's Sunday morning, and I'm working away on gainful work (freelancer's fate).
Oh, and it's grey and drab out there, with drizzle in the air.

Darkish

Original digital art created for 'dark' at Inspire Me Thursday.

And they said to each other ...

And they said to each other, "We need
glasses so we can see. Because, as it is
now, we have no vision."
And one of them continued, "We have
been self-indulgent way too
long. This has got to stop."
But where to go in this land
without opticians, and how to slim
down on indulgence?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2009)

The painting is gouache on paper and dates from 2002

Posted for Inspire Me Thursday and Glasses as well as Sunday Scribblings #171, Indulgence.

Owl

Owl
Gouache and oil crayon
on wrapping paper, 2008
(detail of a larger painting)

Posted for Inspire Me Thursday's Owl.

Canjurian dancer

Canjurian dancer wearing traditional costume
Ink and acrylic on photo paper,
digitally edited, 2008

Created for Inspire Me Thursday's Dress.

Antique gift

Antique gift of uncertain significance
Acrylic on cardboard, 2008

Posted for Inspire Me Thursday's Make a Gift.

I didn't have to make this gift - it was on my desk under a layer of papers and other "art", waiting to be discovered as a gift of uncertain significance and slightly revised.

A tinge of Klimt

A tinge of Klimt
Acrylic and ink on photo paper,
digitally modified

My contribution to Inspire Me Thursday's Open Topic.
Actually, the original is more Klimtian, having gold in it.
But I very much like the batik-like blue that replaced the gold.

African Yellow

African Yellow
Acrylic on paper, photographed, clipped and digitally modified, 2008

A belated entry for Inspire Me Thursday's Yellow.

Breath from beyond

Breath from beyond

Acrylic and ink on paper, 2006

For Inspire Me Thursday's Breath.
My mother passed away last Friday. Whenever I go
back to look at her, I still expect her to start breathing
again any moment.
This won't happen, of course. If there were any breath,
it would be from beyond, as in the painting. Life,
colors and breathing are underneath the blackness.

Against the clock with music

Created for Inspire Me Thursday as specified ... against the clock in a way - the timing and mood being provided by a sufi music CD purchased today. Further constraint: colors picked at the beginning ... orange, cinnabar, raw umber, black. Executed in acrylic on Fabriano paper in approx. 40 minutes.

Twigs, blossoms, sunlight

Twigs, blossoms, sunlight
Acrylic on paper, 2002

Posted for healing at Inspire Me Thursday.

Even though I do not necessarily think of healing as a prime objective of my painting effort and paintings, there definitely is an effect I look for in what I paint and what I'd like viewers to experience.
Several years ago I had an art exhibition titled 'Between harmony and disharmony.' One of my friends who attended the opening said, "You know, in your previous shows there were some paintings that were disharmonious, but there's not a single one here today that feels that way to me." I took that as a compliment and accomplishment.
But back to the experience I'd like to evoke ... I'd like the people who look at my art to feel that they have received something best described, perhaps, as nourishment for the soul.
And that would qualify as some sort of healing, wouldn't it?

Leonard Blumfeld