Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Dolorosa ...prints for Sale...




I have had a few enquiries about my own art works for sale, so i have made available 1 of each of the following prints that where made as part of a small limited edition for an exhibitions at last years Esoteric Book Conference in Seattle.

All printed on Hahnemühle FineArt paper

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1. A5 with one inch border  SOLD


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2. A4 with one inch border SOLD


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3. A4 with one inch border  SOLD



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4. A4 with one inch border  SOLD


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5. A4 with one inch border  SOLD



A5= 35 euros plus p&p   A4= 55 euros plus p&p
 paypal accepted

all enquiries to > mariadolorosadelacruz@dublin.com



Monday, March 5, 2012

Justin Lee Brown ... drawings & poem



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"Maximum Velocity Realization"

A History of Abuse

Devotion punishes
the submissive tenderness of love
rattles the bars of the riot cell
the event horizon explodes
ecstasy seizes my ersatz heart
accelerates paroxysms of cobalt quivers

I strain
against taught strung bow
of limited compassion
I sink into delicious madness
plunge terrified
into the reverie of myogenic dream
my serial killer love springs its genetic latch
everything is offered
nothing will be forgiven
everything must die

my crisis of dimension survives
the vicissitudes of my shape shifting
into fire I throw you, true believer
twisting flesh, contortions of long shadows
whispering, the ancestry of restrained milieu 
familial bonds break tender bones
cruel thoughts race mercilessly
they cut across the frozen tundra
tearing away layer after layer of lies
exposing the new pink flesh of the righteous kill

I am parched by absences and acquisitions
my teeth are in my stomach instead of in my mouth
hope, consigned to oblivion
albeit practiced after every loss or forbidding
unlike like muscle memory
which never lies and never forgets


I forget things when I am skinned raw and bare naked
In moments of an utter disconnection from love  
still, my fear of you holds me close like exile
like a sickness in waiting
longing for fire while being burned by it
consumed by even the most objective elements of self
the crush of the malevolent familiar
spits me from the bloodbath of your mouth

curious confusions rebound, recoil
my darkness wrapped around me like my father’s lust
I recognized the tone of your intentions
filling my rusted water can with blood
what better way to control me
than to drown me with your hybrid vigor
survival, an odd balance of nature and nurture
that which doesn’t kill me makes me crawl.


Justin Lee Brown aka/Desiderata © Copyright all rights reserved 2011


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Detail from "The Arrogance of Observation"



Ex Libris... Jean Morisot... Erotica...





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JEAN MORISOT  ex libris available to buy here > Ex Libris Artshop



Saturday, March 3, 2012

Dolorosa... new drawing... La Inquieta 2012



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a H.I.M. is still ah HER.
a hymn Her.
a song unto HER
a chant unto HER
a lotus flowHER at HER
sacRED lotus feet
is ALL Eye e'er was
and WILL
BE unto She who be
HER
and I AUM HER HYMN.




Alfred Kubin...illustration...1926




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"When I ventured back into the world of the living, I discovered that my god only held half-sway. In everything, both great and small, he had to share with an adversary who wanted life. The forces of repulsion and attraction, the twin poles of the earth with their currents, the alternation of the seasons, day and night, black and white - these are battles."

from The Other Side by Alfred Kubin



Monday, February 27, 2012

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Stephen J. Clark... prints 2010/11/12






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Burden 2010



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From A Great Lost Book 2011



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Mephistotrix, Beezle and Lamia 2011



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Night Swallows 2012

more here > The Singing Garden



Clive Barker... prints ...





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At The Door Of The Primal Room


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Demon In The Blue Grass


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Blue Vision 1995


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Malingo, 1999







Toyen.. Untitled and undated print...



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click on image to enlarge


previous > Toyen



Thursday, February 23, 2012

Austin O Spare...




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We who seek—whether we know or not what we seek or find, seem forced to face divergent paths; and ever inviting is the non-resistant blind alley to all sameness, to sick and weary life. Other paths, rougher, lead who so willeth to new pleasures: verily they lead the life-force with ever-open eye to the awaiting disaster or to chaos—never bathos, self-pity. The brave care nothing.

The wise man often exuviates his knowledge, rectifies his pastiche of acceptances and reverts to simple fundaments. By courage his eye is never stale and his levels become as steps. He again reorientates by oblique divagation, new asymmetries, dynamics, complexities and funambulatory compositions; never destroying his essential dis-symmetry.

Love for all things is integral beauty; it has no hate or possessiveness; its law is its own causality. Passions may be controlled but we best love by non-will as inclination dictates: so accept love wherever you may find it. It is difficult to recognize because it never asks.

All our denials, even of ourselves, come from non-acceptance: the unrealisation of otherness in self; of the Absolute in the non-absolute. 

from Austin Osman Spare,The Logomachy of ZOS ~ ZOS Speaks! Encounters with AOS. Fulgur, 1998



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In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.



Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Jindrich Styrsky...collage ...Comte de Lautréamont...1939...



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"It was a spring day. Birds spilled out their warbling canticles, and humans, having answered their various calls of duty, were bathing in the sanctity of fatigue. Everything was working out its destiny: trees, planets, sharks. All except the Creator! He was stretched out on the highway, his clothing torn, His lower lip hung down like a soporific cable. His teeth were unbrushed, and dust clogged the blond waves of his hair. Numbed by a torpid drowsiness, crushed against pebbles, his body was making futile efforts to get up again. His strength had left him, and he lay there weak as an earthworm, impassive as treebark. Gouts of wine swamped the ruts trenched by his shoulders' nervous twitches."
  
Lautréamont, From "Maldoror"
     (trans. Alexis Lykiard)


previous Jindrich Styrsky

Styrsky poem > here