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| Some Men C.T. Rasmuss, mixed media/juxtaposed-grayscale (2013).
Some Men
Taming
doubt and mastering grand
illusions
of the impossible,
do
these factor in Mr. Keats;
into
your theorem of consolation?
“Beauty
is truth, truth beauty”!
Some
men need to know more.
Exploring
an inexhaustible system of caverns
masked
with lavish odors of tasty Mint Julip:
streams
of relevant hopes cascade along,
emptying
waste and spoils into an epicenter
of
shipwrecked faith and smashed dreams.
Some
men unfortunately drift out to sea.
Chronicles
of captain's bliss, read softly aloud
upon
vast lands of turmoil and vengeance;
all
the while, its impressionable audience being
captured
by sidewinder speeches, hissed by
forked
tongues wrapped in corrupted silhouette.
Some
men find themselves stranded ashore.
In
the wake of God's infinite brilliance
it
is beckoned to us all that:
“Men
shalt not live by bread alone...”
Perhaps
because in a muffled den of thieves,
virtuous
men would drop like flies!
Signal...Some
men pray on their knees.
Endearing
temptations to reach something greater:
souls
of isolation steer clear into magnanimous wake.
Relentless
subordination to fierce elements and tide,
the
artist, records his findings with a naive brush;
attained
destination is relevant, given with each stroke.
Some
men go on, continue bailing out their boats.
Basking
in a hypnotic Amber light, graciously cast
by
smoldering embers, crackling, becoming internalized:
ashes
continue piling into the outstretched urn of time.
Flickering
from petrified dreams of youth, mortality gains
acceptance
from its morality, with fully glazed eyes;
Some men wade in a pool of eternity. |
Monday, February 24, 2014
Some Men: A Poem by C.T.Rasmuss.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Jackson Pollock: A Methodical Madman or Just A Madman?
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| She's Beautiful C.T.Rasmuss, The Jackson Method (Feb. 2014). |
Jackson Pollock seems to be a recurring theme for me, ever since I started devoting most of my efforts toward painting back in 2005, when was still living in my hometown, Flint, Michigan. I took courses in painting at The University of Michigan-Flint; but largely I was self taught, 'Independent' as I prefer to be known, as some of the greats before me; I say "the greats before me" because like Pollock and other great artists, it's in 'our' blood to out do our predecessor's...
In my case I not only wish this, but I also wish to prove the critics against Pollock, wrong, that he wasn't a Madman, but in fact there was method to his madness; as I hope you can see in this post. I aim to continue in this manner of documenting, as I dig deeper into this debate; what I like to call the: The Jackson Method, capturing the evidence w/o compromising the integrity of autonomy.
p.s. I hope to me joined by other professionals of my field as well as other fields that can help explain the implications and dynamism of The Jackson Method.
Stage1:
Stage2:
Stage3:
Stage4 w/thumbnail:
Sunday, February 2, 2014
John Keats: Is This the Truth and Beauty you Imagined? A poem b y C.T.Rasmuss
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| Some Men C.T. Rasmuss, India Ink/acrylic/pastels (2013).
First and foremost I'm an artist, and as an artist I give myself the freedom to express my intentions any which way I please!
Lately I've been working on a series which has nothing to do with which I wish to express via this 'blog'...what is..relevant is the poem which I've been working on, a poem which is intended for a local poetry contest.
You see...writing/poetry is my White Whale, so I've devised a plan to pursue this eluded art-form as well as apply my strengths as a visual artist into another field; a sort of self satisfying experiment if you will, or more like a form of self validation as well as spiritual release, But as always I give my utmost attention to truth, beauty and Humanity(with God's blessing of course).
Some Men (1st rough draft)
Taming Doubt and Mastering
Illusions of the Impossible,
Is this part of the truth and beauty
we need to know of, Mr. Keats?
In the wake of God's infinite Brilliance;
it is told to us, "Men shall not
live by bread alone, but..."
perhaps in a world of thieves,
virtuous men would drop like flies!
Some men still pray on their knees.
The Chronicles of Bliss softly read
upon the lands of turmoil;
while it's impressionable audience
is captivated by speeches
of those corrupted silhouettes.
Some men are bailing out their boats.
Endearing to reach something greater
souls of isolation in magnanimous quake,
subordination to the fiercest elements,
an artist records his findings with a brush
attained destination is relevant with every stroke
Some men are stranded ashore.
In a system of bountiful caverns
masked with a lavish odor of Mint Julep
streams of irrelevant hope cascades along,
emptying its spoils into the epicenter of
smashed dreams and crushed faith.
Some men drift out to sea
In light of smoldering embers of mortality
flickering from petrified dreams of youth;
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