Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Woe to the artist and woe to his lucid, wayward
and meandering thoughts, and again I say woe.


  1. ...woe is David? how have you been?
    just letting you know that we are back from the unclean regions of the world.

  2. Not much to be said when the image and words say so much. Woe is a good word and I feel it.

  3. Hi Yi,how was you trip? Was it really unclean or are we just squeaky clean, in a "Brave New World" sort of way. I am fine and in good health and not in a mood of woe.
    I wrote that line in response to my friend roj's posting on ArtSmelter, so quickly I turned it into a mini post and matched a painting to the mood. It's funny how lines of text just come together all at once - that's why I like song writing and blogging.

    Actually song writing, painting and blogging are not about self promotion and subsequent fame and flattening of the soul but more about production, admiration and reflection of poetic tokens that materialise by conjuring and pecking at the edges of an area just out of our reach.

    See Yi, around the traps.

  4. Hi Corinne, long time no see, how is life on the other side of the world?
    Yes, woe is a good word and I try to use it in a deeper more metaphysical way - as if a great stone is attached to our souls by a long cord stretching down into a black abyss, that's narrowing and wincing our choppers out of our jaws.

    as in Ecclesiastes 12

    - when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the windows grow dim;

    4 when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint;

    5 when men are afraid of heights and of dangers in the streets; when the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper drags himself along
    and desire no longer is stirred.
    Then man goes to his eternal home
    and mourners go about the streets.

    6 Remember him—before the silver cord is severed, or the golden bowl is broken; before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, or the wheel broken at the well,

    7 and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

    8 "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher."Everything is meaningless!"

    Keep on Blogging!


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