Seven Hours of Music: Natural Sounds of Subconscious Entrancement

When tired, listen. 

Music is the breath of life. 

Listen, I am tired. 

Asleep, I hear a visual language, 

A deeper mind. 

Music, now.

__________

She slips in the doorway while I lay in bed, listening. Grandma Nana’s come to pick me up for a day of visiting. Yet, aren’t those the footsteps of my wife? She enters with uncanny similarity.

A painting of the artist Kete Ephraim Marcus by Kete Ephraim Marcus 

A style of musical motion stamps on the floor of my eardrum with the gentle line of breath, issuing as her unspeaking voice through our apartment of dead morning air. She is memory, alive.

Morning, Interior by Maximillien Luce

As I wake to the glorious open space of an apartment, couched in the warm light of a restful morning, and my friend’s visiting. Apologetic and endeared, he respects my unconventional successes, gifting me seasonal greetings with the cheeky light of a sparkling card and pagan decoration.

Paris: In memory of the young deceased friend by Shalva Kikodze

We sit together in the freedom of being up and awake for the sun and its glowing gaze. The room is just so cool to comfort the body in an easy choice of soft, wooly over-garments. He begins to recite the melody of a waltz, for playing on the guitar.

Guitar and Pipe by Juan Gris

With heavenly beckoning, his sweet and delicate face points at the brown stand of Indonesian wood in the corner, my acoustic guitar. I repeat the melody, as it glides effortlessly on the airy surface of my mind.

_________

"The spiritual recluse

On a steep decline

Passing without Failure,

Churning with Thirst,

& Separated

from life"

excerpt from "Age of Fire"

Portrait of the Artist as an Immigrant

Present Sound, Silent Space by Rusty Kjarvik

"The acorn can become an oak, and not a donkey!" (C.G. Jung)

"...that time when he let himself go and when he landed deep down in what he came to call the collective unconscious, all this rejected feminine in himself, confronted him."

- from Part 6 of "Matter of Heart" documentary on Carl Jung

As you may have noticed, I have copyrighted my digital art images. This week, "Mountain Reflection on Cyclical Wordplay" and "Present Sound, Silent Space" now published on my blog under Experimental Writing Gallery, have been selected for what is my first live art exhibition, alongside professional artists. The exhibition supports emerging immigrant artists like myself.

"Mountain Reflection on Cyclical Wordplay" at Endeavor Gallery

Read Here: Cultural Intersection 2012 & Gallery Poster

I have been contemplating selling my art prints here online, they are currently being printed as a limited edition (1 of 100) series on a photo canvas at 20" x 30" dimensions. If there is any interest, or any comments regarding this idea, please feel free to email me at rkjarvik25@gmail.com

Thanks for reading SoJourn(al): Private Dreams to Public Art !

______

A co-musician friend meanders and strays with eager intention, playful, directly before me. I am defenseless. As he approaches, leaping over me, my body transforms into mountain stone. Hard-edged scree and hillocks crack and harden in a gross maze of cavernous earth rock. Self-created, I transform. I am the mountain. My hair blows mercilessly, mutating into the icy summit winds. I rumble and shake with tectonic might. Mountain goats find refuge in my side, opening into an open cave. My friend enters.  

_____

Goats

"When interpreting dreams with goats in them, consider the characteristics that we associate with these animals. We consider them to be sturdy and tenacious...Additionally, in pagan mythology goats are considered to be symbols of sexual vitality." (iDream)

_____

recite,
passage in the name,
that subconscious wandering
that pierces through life, a remembrance
that deceived unity into a grandiose measure
foraging beneath the earth for emergent corpses, dusty in pain

- excerpt from "Inspired by 'the Reading'"