blackwater creek gallery Outsider, visionary, folk and contemporary art Lynchburg, Virginia
Derek Cantrell
Derek Cantrell
Ink and Pencil on Paper |
Ink and Pencil on Paper |
Ink and Pencil on Paper |
I call to mind ecstasies of days gone by -
Raptures of mind,
Disintegrations of gray matters – and I say for certain:
“Sue is fine,
She's my shoe-gazing girl,
She's my lemon in pink, but
Sue's loveless, and
Sue's looking at me a little.”
I recall a song, a little melody,
But I don't sing, I don't strum: I write
Remarks designed for
Logical form, forms of
Music,
Of love, of
Life.
Raptures of mind,
Disintegrations of gray matters – and I say for certain:
“Sue is fine,
She's my shoe-gazing girl,
She's my lemon in pink, but
Sue's loveless, and
Sue's looking at me a little.”
I recall a song, a little melody,
But I don't sing, I don't strum: I write
Remarks designed for
Logical form, forms of
Music,
Of love, of
Life.
In certain realms (under spells, over hills)
Fresh life forms limp
Into the foreground (… uncertain where to start,
unsure about the picture,
rattled by the violence of their entrance into existence... ).
This form of life looks forward, looks
Down at the foreground, looks
Left, then falls fast
Through a glass ceiling, but
Lands (still limping) lightly
On the picture's plane.
Fresh life forms limp
Into the foreground (… uncertain where to start,
unsure about the picture,
rattled by the violence of their entrance into existence... ).
This form of life looks forward, looks
Down at the foreground, looks
Left, then falls fast
Through a glass ceiling, but
Lands (still limping) lightly
On the picture's plane.
I rush onto the scene,
Soundtrack in mind, with
A line of logic behind me -
A line falling into a form,
A musical form,
A film score for my tragicomedy (my tight-rope sideshow) in too many acts.
Soundtrack in mind, with
A line of logic behind me -
A line falling into a form,
A musical form,
A film score for my tragicomedy (my tight-rope sideshow) in too many acts.
And I slow my steps to exit stage-left, to leave the violence behind me.
I love to leave the curtain drawn aside so I can shoot the show on film, and
I love the images ingrained in silver -
The slivers of rehearsed histrionics and histories left for dead:
I loved, and I left, but I left a little bit of life behind me.
In my letters,
Letters left unsent,
Left out in the open (hoping silently for fifteen minutes of the foreground),
I find lines of a life and
From a love, and
A form of music comes to the front
While forgetting old scores and
Setting fresh, but special,
Pictures in an envelope.
Inside an empty bedroom
(Quite beside myself)
I train my mania using
Trains of thought riding
A line straight to the center
Of the scene,
The scene scented with forgetfulness about
Former times and ties.
I love to leave the curtain drawn aside so I can shoot the show on film, and
I love the images ingrained in silver -
The slivers of rehearsed histrionics and histories left for dead:
I loved, and I left, but I left a little bit of life behind me.
In my letters,
Letters left unsent,
Left out in the open (hoping silently for fifteen minutes of the foreground),
I find lines of a life and
From a love, and
A form of music comes to the front
While forgetting old scores and
Setting fresh, but special,
Pictures in an envelope.
Inside an empty bedroom
(Quite beside myself)
I train my mania using
Trains of thought riding
A line straight to the center
Of the scene,
The scene scented with forgetfulness about
Former times and ties.
Time dilates my eyes
(Pupils grow wide, grow gray)
And an image
Ingrains itself
In my brain.
(Pupils grow wide, grow gray)
And an image
Ingrains itself
In my brain.
I see a scene on the horizon (the curtain is drawn aside),
I draw the horizon as a portrait of logical form,
And I remark in my notebook that
Work is well,
Quite alright, that
I can wrap up the race in a night.
- Derek Cantrell (Lynchburg, VA 2009-10)