Uncategorized – Page 9 – Mitchell Pluto

Utopia is Feminine and the Morning Star Enrique De Santiago

“The time will come to assert the ideas of women at the expense of those of men, whose failure is consummated so resoundingly today. It is up to the artist in particular, if only in protest against this scandalous state of affairs, to make everything that arises from the feminine system of the world as opposed to the masculine system predominate to the maximum; of emphasizing exclusively the powers of women; better still, of appropriating her to the point of making it jealously hers, of that which distinguishes her from man in her way of evaluating and wanting.”
André Breton, Arcanum 17

17 *Star Tarot Card* 9in x 6 1/2in
André Breton
**Roberto Sebastián Antonio Matta Echaurren**

This is another example of the surrealist passion for tarot. The title of Breton’s long prose poem, Arcane 17, refers to tarot card 17, the “stars” card (Les étoiles), usually a symbol of free-flowing love and renewal of forces. However, Breton’s imagination brought new associations, multiplying the morning stars and infusing them with fluid meanings. Breton describes the figure in the center of the card as a naked young woman kneeling as she pours out the contents of two urns, one into a pond, the other onto the ground. He associates this woman with the legendary figure of Mélusine, a legendary mermaid who became a symbol of the difficulty to reconcile “reality” and “magic.” There is hope, however, that the “inexhaustible” urns could renew our disenchanted world. Indeed, even though the pond gives off the “pestilential odor” of social conventions, it is still longing for “a new dream.” The fragile butterfly is another symbol of “consoling mystery.” Chilean painter Roberto Matta designed the four colorful illustrations in the shape and size of tarot cards (or “arcanas”) pasted in the book.

The Importance of Magic for Surrealism, Spirits, Mediums, and Tarot. Cornell University Library

Utopia is Feminine by Enrique De Santiago

Love descending incandescent and calm
from the primordial nature of the universe
to embrace the hope full of your walk
in your women’s hands that welcome
in your womb container of light
on your lips that educate and dismiss poetry
on your back that holds the arcanum of the morning
with that epiphany that looks like your body.
This is how I take flight rebellious
bathed by the celestial of the bodies wrongly called celestial,
where I learned to love the brevity of the possible in the impossible
to go up with my luggage to another utopia
clearing away the old tears
in front of a showcase that is empty
and that is condescending with my people
in its persistent lack
where I also know my measurements
and who excessively hugs them
in these hours of opaque tides
with their lost leviathans
of heads sunk in the mud of consumption
without noticing the hands of those who ask
between remains of bodies
that are invisible to him
and alien.

A star, as Bernard Roger recalls, “has served forever as a guide to nocturnal navigators whether
over the oceans of the globe or over the philosophical sea of the Argonauts.” Echoing him, Jorge Camacho notes the star “has shown the solitary sailor his route over the high seas. By faithfully following it throughout his long voyage, he is sure to reach port safely.” The star burns with such an intense gleam in the surrealist imaginal realm that in 2004, the Czech painter Martin Stejskal organized a large exhibition near White Mountain in which it “was declined in all its natural, cultural, as well as mythical aspects, in the union of traditions (astrology, kabbalah, alchemy, Freemasonry) as in the poetic union of the male and female in each individual, borne by the work of surrealist friends, and by the uncarved stone placed at the castle entrance that bore this phrase that sings in our hearts like a magical couplet: constructed on the side of abyss, on philosopher’s stone . . .” as Marie Dominique Massoni points out in issue 5 of S.U.R.R. However, “You can never see this star like I saw it. You don’t understand: it is like the heart of a heartless flower,” as Nadja, the “magician,” says.,,

A harmony founded on the spiritual in all its forms, love of humanity in all its beauty, we can thus clearly see the richness of the esoteric domain approached this way by the surrealists, who incidentally made the Star, in the Deck of Marseille, the symbol for the suit of Dreams, whose face cards are Lautréamont, Alice in Wonderland, and Freud. This deck was conceived (these things are never invented) between the Villa Air Bel and the café Au Brûleur de Loups.

The Esoteric Secrets of Surrealism Origins, Magic, and Secret Societies By Patrick Lepetit

*Star Tarot Symbolique Maçonnique* Deck by Jean Beauchard

“A very powerful myth continues to have a hold on me, and no apparent contradiction of it in the course of my previous adventures can prevail “Find the place in the formula” merges with, “possess truth in one soul and one body: That the highest hope has the power to unfold before it the allegorical arena which holds that every human being was thrown into life to search for a being of the opposite sex and only that one who is paired in all respects, to the point where one without the other seems like the result of the dissociation of dismembering a unit of light”

Arcanum 17: With Apertures, Grafted to the End. By André Breton

Featured Painting by Enrique De Santiago She raises the day, oil on canvas, 140 x 100 cm.

Hoda Hussein Crossing The Water Tunnel

Hunting for the sound
In the relation between circles
Grooves and ridges
On the surface of a disk.

Hunting for the circles
Grooves and ridges
On the surface
Of my fingers.

Hunting for the relation
Between the surface of my fingers
And the surface of the disk.

Does the sound get sharper
when the lines are brighter?

Shell it cough
if dust occupies it?

*Mother and Child*
70x50cm
Acrylic on canvas

Hunting in the needle
That touches the round lines
ln the rotation of the disk

ln one direction
In the possibilities of emptiness forms
Between the needle point
And the turning lines’

Hunting
To reach the spherical emptiness
There
In the middle.

Circles turn with the sound

Breath

Go through ideas and trajectories
The time decomposes itself
Into spirals moving up and down

And I find myself there.
Every time I remember my face I see the
sun

This disk that moves
And nobody sings
For it.

*The Celestial Cow*
70x50cm
Acrylic on canvas

Sometimes you through your darts
And they catch a map

it might not necessarily be your map

And by chance
or coincidence

you find it in your hand
you say: I found the map
There the map found me

And my mission now
is to dissect it

Sometimes
you throw your darts
And they get lost
Hunting others’ maps

They are the laziest:
They through their dreams at you
to realize it for them

they threw you their disappointments
to endure it for them

They are the laziest
And you are the naïve prey that
lost the reason of this one hunt

For the hunt
And sank

When they pull you up
Do not be
Please
Thankful.

So who said that the emptiness
in the middle
Is black?

And how do you know it is empty it self?
And if someone tells You
Nothing is in the emptiness

Would you believe?

Won’t you hunt in this “Nothing”

For a shape or a form?

To touch it?

To intersect with it?

To find yourself

In it?

From MAP OF THE SELF Poems and Drawings Hoda Hussein 2006

Hoda Hussein
Egyptian creative writer poetess and novelist, artist painter and translator.
Published many poetry books and novels in Arabic language.
Represented Egypt in poetry and novels festivals and encounters in several countries like Yemen, Spain, India, France, Cuba, and Chile
Made creative writing workshops for kids in many schools in Cairo Egypt.
Received rewards for poetry, novels and for translations in Chile, Macedonia and Egypt.
Was entitled as a universal ambassador for peace by the peace ambassadors circle that works under the UNESCO

Featured Painting: The Great Lady. 70x50cm. Acrylic on canvas.

_{THIS AN AUTHORIZED DUPLICATION WITH PERMISSION AND EXPRESSED CONSENT}

I Drink from the Paleozoic Salts Enrique de Santiago

It is then when the tree that tomorrow will summon the thorns loses its leaves,
and the bumblebee falls, prey to the polar trails,
to reinvent the powerful patient engineering of lytic promises,
Well, that’s where I shelter, and where I rescue the omens,
there I drink from the Paleozoic salts, which today move the migratory herds,
those who come to the eyes without ears, of those attending Sunday services.
By nature, I approve!!

They speak of love, and my bet is more on compassion, which is a kind of continuum in a collective warp, of an ineffable equation that they will never understand.
Because perhaps love (like that image shown to us) does not exist and if it does exist it is a sum of chemical reactions where a set of hormones stimulates our syntax, and which may also be subject to the need for genes to be perpetuated. Maybe?. But there is also one who breaks this previous theory; crazy love, passionate love, eternal love, etc. that love that becomes unclassifiable. I only know that I know nothing.
After all, I believe in love.
Does the egg use the chicken to make more eggs?
It is possible, but in a global and precisely circular analysis, the plot of existence is supported in a shed crossed by the polyform reality of infinite logics and illogics, where each of its corresponding paradoxes and balances avoids its critical tension.
But, we can order them in the not well understood compassion, which could be a feeling deeper than that of the corruptible flesh (physical theory and cognitively plausible), which leads to understandable and celestial simplicity. But what if an infinitesimal were more than an integer, or if that time circulated in all directions? or love will not mean more than a necessary impulse to take risks in order to live the contradictions, so that the soul, when dying, will return with the pertinent knowledge to correct, deconstruct or ratify the whole of the so-called divinity .
For this reason, the next step opens the temporality to dedicate more time to essential reflection, and to put aside an imposed competitiveness for the accumulation of objects that lead to the void that means pursuing a way of life that is subordinated to the symbolic relationship. of the object or objects, which is useless and inconducive (a simulacrum of the society of the spectacle) for our true purpose in this brief transit called life.
Ars longa vita brevis. Or your existence is just an accident to offer a limited amount of data to accompany the equation that gives additional information to find the way out of the answer.
By the way; nobody takes me into account, since my infallibility is very poor since periodically and statistically, my failures are more abundant than my certainties.
And therein lies my wisdom; in realizing that my hypotheses are only attempts to find the truth within infinity. To think otherwise would be to err drastically and in the process lie to them. It would be, subjecting myself from the ego to an option to dress elegantly, but in the end, it would strip my limits. It is better to be honest in clumsiness than false in an inane and temporary charade.
But:
What if love were one of that unknown design in my intrinsic astral writing, waiting for you?

*Primordial circulation approaching from a past spring,* acrylic on Fabriano paper 250 gm. 35x45cm

So the wide dividing width
will unload its useful molecules
in this useless impertinent distance
there where the lightning reigns
without asking for their
blind blows.
Is when my pale measures
they embrace their designs devoid of elytra
to save the waters
possessed of salt and fire
that bathe the limits of my suffering body
without entering the first cause
that brings me down from within
the muscle periphery.

*Eros Phasianidae*, acrylic and ink on Canson 300 gms paper. 11″ x 8.3

EROS PHASIANIDAE
Yo
And she saw the chicken rise from the ground
a brilliant and ectoplasmic epiphany
and she remembered the words of the feathered prophets:
“before the primordial egg was the verb”
and the pyrrhic evolutionary expedition embraced me
so necessary and indeterminate
where we are more but under sheds
and I saw the grayish uncertainty that shakes my being
h = 6.626 0693 (11) x 10 – (34) J. s = 4,135 667 43 (35)
x10–(15)eV. s
and the beast arose from the miasma
without the feminine warmth
it was in the offensive of the arches thousands of years ago
on the Cartesian line of Har Meggido
under the law of y = m x + b
and those tears originated at 32°34’59″N 35°10’56″E.
II
huge old stars
leaning out on the horizontal cobblestone sheets
were dictated by an ancient manual of glorious epic forms
where I did not read the cunning locks
and from there lights fall like eagles
that are suspended in front of your pale fortifications
and despite the fact that I descend without air
I cling to the desiccated edges of this abyss
turning away from the waves of floral promises
with summer mentions that anoint you.
Thus the amaranth silence returns to rock the star
and like the silent lymph
you seek to break beyond the fundamental shell
the one that you got to know in a primitive way
in the sweet rooms of belief.

*Interruption*, acrylic on cut Fabriano paper, on black cardboard. 18x24cm.
The inclination of one of the elements is voluntary.

GOLDEN VISION

The nothing, the void
hold my duplicate fragments
(Φ2 = 2.61803398874988…)
It is the hollowness of the past and the future
what you don’t have and don’t want
the illusion of time and line
Infinity
so love surrounds swelling wisdom
while on the musty boards of a camp
absent light filters
to tilt reciprocal reality
that drives your transformation
(1/Φ = 0.61803398874988).

Maybe this reality is true
on this twilight island
where the already worn bones falter
by the persistent violet stings,
and there is no choice but to live among the cyclones that guard the whimsical and invisible knots
with its container meshes
that hide half-open portals,
those that I will leave like this for a while,
since everything circulates in the promised packaging.

**Paintings and Poems by**
**Enrique de Santiago**

Hallucination of the Arrival J Karl Bogartte

I discovered Photomorphosis way back in 1972 while attempting to copy an illustrated article in the Times magazine article on Yves Tanguy on an office copy machine. At night, in the dark. A clandestine maneuver. Photomorphosis is the enchanting process by which an organism changes or experiences metamorphosis under the influence of light… It is a natural process in the realm of photosynthesis, photolysis, etc., indicating the importance of light on living things, akin to shedding light on the darker areas of the mind…

*A Wedding in the gardens of Yemen* 2021

As an external organic process entering another level of meaning, it became an internal manifestation of an evolving morphology of the psyche. Under the sway of obsessive desire, I combined the words photograph and metamorphosis to signify the photomorphic process, without realizing that such a word already existed.

But, further research revealed that photomorphosis was no longer used by the scientific community to denote the organic process of light-induced metamorphosis and had been replaced by photomorphogenesis. Thus, by my investigation, I have given a new meaning to the abandoned word ‘photomorphosis’… by surrealizing it. To paraphrase André Breton: photomorphosis has been given to me to make surrealist use of it. The sustained investigation of the imagination is raised to the level of delirious curiosity, by the introduction of the activity of looking inward to discover, or in effect, to shed light on, the darker areas of the mind. To illuminate becomes a perfect analogy for the photomorphic process… The depths of the imagination open, the fields widen, things become visible… and metamorphosis is inevitable.

I drew pictures of strange animals as a kid, tried painting as a teen, and didn’t like the smell of the oils. I did nothing really, until about 19 years old after finding an anthology of French poets… That started my writing – loved surrealist poetry. Poets like Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Eluard. But mainly Andre Breton. He was the most interesting and inventive of them all really. Extremely magical. These days, or more recently, Rene Char (but mainly during his surrealist beginnings). I really like Jacques Dupin (who toyed with surrealism but became even more interested in the realm of language.) I am inspired mainly by Breton’s vantage point in the mind.

Having abandoned the copy machine at the end of 1999, I discovered that I could do the same thing on the computer and more, using Photoshop, in color, and with more tools…

Most everything inspires my work. All of which are very much similar to collage. Both visual and textural. A deep synthesis between my writing and my visual works. How I work these days, well, it all stems from my own real-life experiences. However automatic and mostly strange, it’s not art, really, but a further investigation of the psyche… between the real and the imaginary.

**The luminous bodies meeting for the first time…**

Many years ago, I actually did hear and experience that voice of pure automatism. It startled me completely. I think, once you actually hear and listen to it, it opens a door a little, which stays open, and whenever I feel the urge to write or make imagery, it just comes out. It is believed that one is always dreaming, it’s just under the layer of normal perception of reality. One just stumbles upon it accidentally and feels an inkling, a glimmer of something out of that persistent dream. Like a Deja Vu experience.

There are vast differences today between the different countries and their systems of belief with regard to surrealism; not to mention the differences in approach between various groups of surrealism. All this eventually led to the founding of La Belle Inutile and the 6 or so people who had problems with modern surrealism, academia, social groups, etc. Problems to be solved.

written by J Karl Bogartte

***The Wedding Guests Have Arrived***
Cover for Philip Lamantia’s book *Becoming Visible*

J. Karl Bogartte, born September 8, 1944, of Dutch and Irish descent, is both an artist and poet, schooled in anthropology, photography and various esoteric traditions. He has been an active participant in international surrealism for more than 50 years, and cofounder of La Belle Inutile Éditions. He presently lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Bogartte, is both an artist and poet, having published eight books of poetic writings: The Mirror held Up In Darkness, The Wolf House, Secret Games, Luminous Weapons, Primal Numbers, A Curious Night For A Double Eclipse, Auré, The Spindle’s Arc, and Antibodies: A Surrealist Novella. Long aligned with international surrealism, Bogartte is also a cofounder of
La Belle Inutile Éditions. His work has appeared in the following anthologies: ANALOGON#65, Melpomene, Hydrolith #1 and #2, La vertèbre et le rossignol #4, Peculiar Mormyrid #2, Paraphilia, Silver Pinion and The Fiend online journal.

J Karl Bogartte Books

photomorphose.wordpress.com

Mycelial Visions Enrique de Santiago

Mycelial Visions is a work that I have been maturing for months and that deals with the wonders and mysteries that the Fungi Kingdom contains, a name that is used to designate a group of eukaryotic organisms where fungi or mushrooms, molds and yeasts are found. This kingdom is one of the 5 great ones that make up others, such as animalia, plantae, protista or monera, having very own characteristics that distinguish it from these others due to its taxonomy and complex life cycles.

Specifically, the so-called mushrooms of the Psilocybe family caught my attention and their role as sacred psychotropics (hallucinogenic or neurotropic) in vast cultures, with records of this use, from the Paleolithic (Siberia, Sahara and Spain) to the present day. The power that these have to expand the mind and open unsuspected portals is well known, and that it has a certain analogy with what Eliphas Levi explained, regarding the 3 states to know the secrets of the universe, such as the embryonic state, dreams and delirium.

Thus, since the dawn of animism, these mushrooms have revealed, with the guidance of healers and shamans, that which is invisible and also ineffable, since those who experience these trips cannot express or relate what they have experienced on these trips to what is supposedly the depth of being and soul. These mushrooms usually occur in the dung of animals and it is plausible that prehistoric nomads followed herds not only for their meat but also to collect these mushrooms that were found growing in the feces of the herds. Among these mushrooms are the Psilocybe Mairei in North Africa, Psilocybe Cyanescens, present in Europe, America and Oceania, or Psilocybe Zapotecorum in Mesoamerica, to name three of the most recognized.

They are heterotrophic organisms, that is, they acquire their nutrients from abroad. Their form of reproduction is by spores and they have specific anatomical structures for their production, such as asci (contain ascospores) and basidia (with basidiospores). In fungi, reproduction can be asexual (without formation of a fruiting body) as well as sexual. Like the other kingdoms, they have different shapes, colors and sizes. Its habitat and location varies according to species, being able to grow in treetops or at the foot of it, as well as on rocks or soil, preferably where there is humidity and shade.

written by Enrique de Santiago. The art works are acrylic and ink on 300 gm Conqueror paper. Each painting and poem is a door.

FULLNESS
A secret freedom opens through a crack
that you can barely see.
Rumi
The morning and its ancient mystery
with his new cycle
embracing my vertebral calm
with dawn light steep in aerial stays
of a non-Euclidean flight
and its fertile messaging that awakens the annelids
to caress my future memory.

CONCILIATION
There are times when all the accumulated anxiety and effort
they rest in the infinite indolence and repose of nature.
Henry David Thoreau
I have heard the incessant whisper of the maitenes
and felt its impetuous root that sings its light music
mounted on the invisible verticality of design
that escapes geometrically
by the high pendulum cusp where I found the voice of the origin
so I became a body in the bark
adding myself to the essential channel that pulsates in the hollow
where the bird flies
with his outburst of winged love
that awakens the astral eyelid
and light the new dawn.

DOWN
From the labyrinth of white meats
where the filaments fractionate the divine eye
the wise thread emerges from the molten magma before time.

DREAMS
in the belly of the stone
the dragon’s breath is hidden
and in every cosmic cycle
stir your energy that moves
the suns and their destinies.
You’ll know when the word goes on
in that object that radiates silent voices
by a demiurge who lost
love in a vortex
in that surprising weather.

HUGGING THE BELLY
Diverse waters nest
in the hidden embryonic embraces
where the blade of time
pick up the promise
made to the stem
in that sacred way.
And I saw a new way
and their metals hugged tightly
the sign of the night
dropping urgent shadows
as field dams
one upright and down
in his immobility.

LIGHT
The universe came down to my domain
Opening the lights before precarious
those who entered
In the bones of my soul.
Light of the hidden.

SEEING EYE
the flesh of god
opened the sky
and my inner eye
saw the route of the serpents.

HEAVENLY LANDSCAPES
In the surroundings of the uranic gem
the voices of the magicians are raised
that bear ancestral flowers
to heal the wounds of oblivion.

REVELATION
There was his high imponderable crown
on the distinguished and lukewarm verticality of the mystery
without leaving a shadow in the mirror of the high magistracy
of the verb
pouring her violet love towards his moist horizon
and restlessly embracing your silhouette that I don’t know
That’s how I saw you behind the meanders of destiny
in the sudden revelation of the morning birds
Will you be the trail to be followed in unknown times?
perhaps I will drink of your honey under the sign of the equinox
coming
As soon as you feel your eyelids full of the light of your
redemption
and rest the incandescent pearl that comes down from the dew
this will be the floral beginning of the silent explosion
like the one that leaves the pollen in the aerial possibilities
while I await your coming.
Someday they’ll die out under the rust
the gears that bind us to reality.

DIRECTIONS
My constellations that guide me
pushing my mild matter
in this immense sum of fiery spheres
and finite
inside the womb of mystery
with its unsuspected breath of flowers
because as above so below
since nebulae have their own pistils
and here I am with my steps apprehended
waved and sacramented
right and wrong
taking up the path dictated by the stars
smiling under high serene clouds
looking for other paths
that will bring a new hand to dream.

**only one *Mycelial Visions* was made**

Olfactory Inversion by Richard Gessner

The Left Handed Artist Richard Gessner’s short story, paintings and drawings

A man’s sense of smell is reversed so fragrances smell like stenches and vice versa.

His nose has dyslexia.

To skip through a field of lilacs in early spring is equivalent to being tethered to a corpse during the high heat of summer.

The aroma of freshly baked bread is like the effluvia from an army’s combat boots after marching through swamps for several weeks without stopping.

*Lollipop Squiggle Tango* Randall Bass Collection

When the nose has dyslexia, the conventions of clean and dirty mutate amuck-

Nightmares of being dunked in vats of perfume become the norm-

Social status disintegrates and intimacy with a skunk brings joy-

The man burrows into remote dung heaps further and further away from the tyrannies of soap-

When the nose has dyslexia, predictable roles and behavior are scrambled anew-

Musk entrenched supermen get stampeded by berserk fawns in heat-

Germ-Phobics fondle dung beetles whom with freshly molested vigor, do hind leg roll ups of squeeky clean solid citizens-

A prudish school marm finds a hidden rabid snapping turtle in her soul after being bitten by rotten apples given jaws by the teacher’s pet gone astray-

When the nose has dyslexia, rampant desire surpasses grandiose expectation.

A wart on a baboon’s ass blossoms into a more fragrant-than-thou perfume garden berry infecting a bestial psychopath who then penetrates with valor the furious posteriors of mandrills shimmying with profane delight

Eager vines of algae growing up from centuries of neglected teeth, climb greedily towards the fortune of a fresh breath heiress-

Gooey-Pollyannas wash their mouths out with soap before reciting mantras of bland nicety to contrite career criminals gnawing on clean conscience bunions jutting from angel’s feet-

When the nose has dyslexia, sacred values of societal dust are sculpted into new poisons by the playful rogue nostril metastasizing-

The Outhouse-Leper becomes a vengeful king, skinning the pillars of communities, turning the hides into outhouse doormats-

Blind Peeping Toms suddenly regain their sight munching on outhouse-doormat brittle–thus seeing and tasting time honored models of proper conduct-

Yeast Infected Vaginas curtsy with hypnotic finesse, flirting with clownish tumescent yam jam giraffes, spurting forth voyeurs turning into martyrs, turning into manic surgeons whittling skunky joy toys in a sleepless scalpel trance-

*Doric Pillar, Wolverhedgehog* Gregory Geis collection

When the nose has dyslexia, the lightning of childhood memory strikes unlikely victims–oceans of crystallized feelings awaken from deep sleeps re-inventing the heart-

A hardened Loan Shark gets entangled, softened and diced up by the frail sadnesses evoked by the rubbery wet scent of his baby sister’s favorite dolly lost in a distant rainstorm-

A loud mouthed schoolyard bully becomes a mute wise old sage, transcending all utterance, ruminating inwardly, building shrines of cookie crumb folly from the remnants of desserts the bully once coerced from the trembling hands of weaklings entombed in the bowels of forgotten grammar school lunch rooms-

The cold stares of ultra strict baby sitters, soberly stretch a whiny little brat’s dirty diapers into an almighty circus tent tundra sheltering cleaner than clean orphans sired by soap bubbles popping-

When the nose has dyslexia, embarrassment lurks in excess.

The man narrowly escapes the lewd clutches of Germ-Phobics hiding in lairs of undigested corn kernels waiting to leap out and fondle him.

He burrows inexorably deeper into remote dung heaps further and further away from the tyrannies of soap, eventually reaching paradise, where fragrant nirvana is sweetest, and stench lost its voice to the carrion bird who sings dirty in reverse.

*Durchschnitt Zwillings Tiere* Gregory Geis Collection

The man enters The-Nose-Has-Dyslexia restaurant, ordering a Skunky-Joy-Toy kiss smothered in freshly molested dung beetle sauce.

As frail diced up cubes of sensitive Loan Shark say grace, crowds of manic surgeons saddened by lost wet dollies, serve the meal in a sleepless scalpel trance-

The man tastes paradise, blessed by the voice of stench stolen by the carrion bird who sings dirty in reverse.

Suddenly The-Outhouse-Leper-Turned-Vengeful-King appears, interrupting the man eating, pedantically assailing him with correct table manner etiquette, forcing a squeeky clean knife and fork into his dungy hands…

Richard Gessner’s fiction has been published in Air Fish: an anthology of speculative work, Rampike, Ice River, Coe Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Happy, The Act, Sein und Werden, Skidrow Penthouse, The Pannus Index, Fiction International and many other magazines. A collection, Excerpts from the Diary of a Neanderthal Dilettante & The Man in the Couch was published by Bomb Shelter Props. Gessner’s drawings and paintings have appeared in Raw Vision, Courier News, Asbury Park Press, Rampike, Skidrow Penthouse, and exhibited at Pleiades Gallery, Hamilton Street Gallery, Cry Baby Gallery, The Court Gallery and the Donald B. Palmer Museum. He lives in Montclair, New Jersey.

“The Amazing Richard Gessner,
Wizard of the word, and Alchemist of the image”
-Vincent Czyz
May 24, 2022

_{^{THIS WRITING IS AN AUTHORIZED DUPLICATION WITH PERMISSION AND EXPRESSED CONSENT}}

Six Nations, Niagara Falls Artist Jay Carrier

I’ve been making art my entire life, I actually remember my 1st studio was a closet in my bedroom, I probably was about 6 or 7 years old

**Top Left**: 2015 mixed media work *The Rules of Science* **Top Center:** *It’s All I Can Do*, 30inx22in, mixed media on paper, July, 2022 **Top Right:** *The Giving,* mixed media on canvas, 65inx50in June 2009 Bottom Center: *Gather,* acrylic on paper, 22inx30in, July 2022

There are many different kinds of artists in my family from lacrosse stick makers, stone carvers, beadwork artist, leather workers and of course painters

I paint my life, my thoughts, the philosophies that I’ve studied, the culture and society that I was born into.

**Left:** mixed media on wood, 52inx 52in August 2018 **Center:** *Mother and Child*, 44inx 30.5in, mixed media on paper, 2014 October 2019 **Right:** mixed media on paper, 30in x 22in

I was born on the six nations rez near Brantford Ontario, moved to Niagara Falls NY when I was 4

**Left:** December 1, 2021 Painting **Right:** *Monuments*, oil on canvas, 60inx 57in July 2020

*Skull ship*, acrylic on paper, 22inx30in, July 2022

The things that influence me were not necessarily art movements. The people of the six nations used what we call traditional art in contemporary society are made for different reasons. There was no term for art in our societies

*Night painting,* acrylic on canvas, 14inx 11in, July 2022

I paint intuitively so spirit can travel unimpeded

_{written by Jay Carrier}

**Left:** *Night Sky*, mostly oil on wood 36inx 41in 3-4in, June 2022 **Center:** *Couple*, oil on wood, 36inx 48in, June 2022 Right: mixed media on canvas, December 2021

“The places that we dwell and live, the relationships that we form with the natural environment, the people that we surround ourselves with, and the many things that influence our thoughts are reflected in the paintings chosen for this show. I was born and briefly grew up on the Six Nations Reservation but predominately was raised in the Southend downtown Niagara Falls. I was constantly amazed by the city’s surroundings, the river, and, the Niagara gorge. Many memories were made that have a direct reference in these paintings; there were exciting times, there were hard times, there were happy times, and tragic times. These experiences in some regard formed the thoughts and ideas reflected in these paintings.”

**Left:** oil, spay paint, oil stick on canvas, 66inx72in. April 2017 **Right:** multi media painting on canvas August 2019

“There is a poetically tragic, glamorous, and beautiful reality about Niagara Falls. The beauty and seduction of the water as it travels, the brutal stark reality of living in a repressed small city, the fallen industry, the curio identity that was what the world would see…. these are the catalysts for exploring my art in relationship to the city.” -Jay Carrier

Jay Carrier at Hallwalls Contemporary Arts Center in Buffalo, New York on September 18, 2021 photo by Dawn Carrier

JAY CARRIER
2115 Lockport Road
Niagara Falls, New York 14304
Phone: (716) 534-0489
Studio: 20, NACC, 1201 Pine Avenue, Niagara Falls, New York 14301
e-mail: carrierj@roadrunner.com
carrierjay@yahoo.com

EDUCATION
1993-94 The University of Illinois at Urbana/Champaign, attended 1 year Masters Program
1993-95 The University of Illinois at Urbana/Champaign, Bachelors of Fine Arts
1986-87, 92 The College of Santa Fe, New Mexico, attended, Major, Fine Arts: Painting, Sculpture
1984 Buffalo State College, Attended
1984 Niagara County Community College, Associates in Fine Arts

SELECTED SOLO EXHIBITIONS

2021 Free To Roam Hallwalls Contemporary Art Center, Buffalo New York
2020 We Took Things With Us, Buffalo Arts Studio Gallery, Buffalo New York
2019 Places of Transformation/ City Indian, the NACC Gallery Niagara Falls New York
2016 The City is Clean, Recent works, Gallery Eleneneleven, Buffalo, New York
2016 Recent work by: Jay Carrier, Garden Gallery Niagara Arts and Cultural Center, Niagara Falls, New York
2014 Recent Drawings, The Garden Gallery, Niagara Arts and Cultural Center Niagara Falls New York
2006 Risen from the Ashes of 2 Fires, American Indian Community House Gallery, New York New York
2004 Chautauqua Center for Visual Arts, Chautauqua Institution Gallery, Chautauqua New York
2002 Polar Visions, Niagara Art and Cultural Center, Niagara Falls, New York
1995 Nothing is Sacred, Institute of American Indian Arts, Santa Fe New Mexico
1993 The Blind Pig Gallery, Champaign, Illinois
1993 The Union Gallery, The University of Illinois at Champaign/Urbana
1993 The South Garage Gallery, The University of Illinois at Champaign/Urban

SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS
2020-2021 Native American and First Nations Contemporary Art, K Art Gallery, Buffalo New York
2018 At This Time, Burchfield Art Center, Buffalo New York
2017 Beyond the Barrel, Annual Exhibition Niagara Arts and Cultural Center Niagara Falls New York
2016 Amid/In WNY – Part 6, Hallwalls Contemporary Arts Center, Buffalo, New York
2016 Featured Artist, 24 Below Gallery, Niagara Falls, New York, 2015-2016
2015 Stick, Stone & Steel, Niagara Art and Cultural Center, Niagara Falls, New York
2015 Diversity Works: Selections from the Gerald Mead Collection, El Museo, Buffalo, New York
2011 4 from 6: Four Artists from Six Nations curated by Shelley Niro, Hamilton Artists Inc., Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
2011 Haudenosaunee: Elements: Works by Artists from the Six Nations of the Iroquois, Everson Museum, Syracuse, New York
2008 Burgeoning: Artists Invite Artists, You Me Gallery, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
2006 First Nations Art 2006, Woodland Cultural Center, Brantford, Ontario, Canada
2005 From Deep in the Forest: An Exhibition of Fine Woodworking, Niagara Falls, New York
2004 First Nations Art 2004, Woodland Cultural Center, Brantford, Ontario, Canada
2004 Collects Buffalo State, Burchfield Penney Art Center, Buffalo, New York
2003 First Nations Art 2003, Woodland Culture Center, Brantford, Ontario, Canada
2002 1st Annual Exhibition, Niagara Art and Cultural Center Niagara Falls, New York,
2002 The Pan American Exposition Centennial: Images of the American Indian, Burchfield Penney Art Center, Buffalo, New York
1997 Where We Stand, Fenimore House Museum, Cooperstown, New York
1995 Expressions of the Spirit, The Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian, Santa Fe, New Mexico
1994 In the Shadow of the Eagle, The Castellani Art Museum, Niagara Falls, New York
1993 The Second Floor Gallery, St. Louis, Missouri
1988 The Galleries, Buffalo, New York
1988 American Indian Institute, Iroquois Art, Connecticut, Washington

Biennials

2012 The Other New York 2012 XL Projects Syracuse NY

2007 Beyond/ In WNY Biennial, Castellani Museum, Niagara Falls NY

FELLOWSHIPS/RESIDENCIES

Art Matters Inc., New York, New York, 1994-1995
Artist In Residence, Native American Center for the Living Arts, “The Turtle”, Niagara Falls, NY 1987

Egyptian Art Shahd El khouli الفن المصرى شهد الخولى

My name is Shahd El-Khouly and I am a Egyptian visual artist. I study psychology and art. Psychology is my passion. I spend most of my time with art, artists and studying psychology because it is a science that deserves every minute we spend reading and searching for it.

I also participated in many exhibitions. Which is being held in Egypt and I am currently participating in the International Surrealist Exhibition, the first part of which was held here in Egypt, and the next part will be held in France next year

وأنا فنانة تشكيلية مصرية مهتمة بالفن منذ الصغر. انا عمري 20 سنة. الآن أنا أدرس علم النفس والفن وعلموأنا النفس هو شغفي. أقضي معظم وقتي مع الفن والفنانين وعلم النفس لأنه علم يستحق كل دقيقة نقضيها في القراءة والبحث عنه. كما شاركت في العديد من المعارض. التي أقيمت في مصر وأشارك حاليًا في المعرض الدولي للسريالية، والذي أقيم الجزء الأول منه هنا في مصر ، والجزء التالي سيقام في فرنسا العام المقبل

written by Shahd El-Khouly

Shahd El khouli in The Echoes of Contemporary Surrealism /Maze of games and dreams /Alexandria

Shahd El khouli 2002 Cairo, Egypt

Omnivoyant Eye Theo Ellsworth

How do you put yourself into a trance or into a place that’s receptive to the subconsciousness?

I find the act of drawing in itself to be trance inducing. I first became obsessed with automatic drawing in high school because it felt like it would light up my brain and smooth out all of my anxious energy. It would literally feel like I was drawing my way out of a stupor and waking up to the strangeness of my own mind.

Drawing helps me reach that valuable state where I can feel awake and alert, yet simultaneously relaxed. I find that my breathing slows down when I’m drawing and time feels more fluid. It helps to have a quiet studio where I can go and disappear for hours at a time. I think of the imagination as a living thing that I have an ever evolving relationship with. If I meet it halfway and submerse myself in the creative process, I get to interact with and explore the subconscious and come back with artistic documentation.

What interests inform and inspire you?

So many things. I love outsider, folk, visionary, and ancient art. Whenever art is made from an inner need or impulse, I find it extremely valuable. I love children’s art. I have 2 kids and love watching the way their minds work. I love creative collaboration as a way to relate to another person’s mind and bring out something totally unexpected and new.

I’m interested in neuroscience and new scientific thought around the so called Hard Problem of Consciousness and Theories of Everything. I love to read. Especially speculative fiction, strange fiction, and comics. I’m hugely inspired by nature and spend a lot of time in the woods. Learning some carpentry skills is another thing that’s been opening me up to new art possibilities. Just sitting and trying to clearly see images or hear music in my head is an ongoing practice.

What role do you think the artist has in the 21st century?

The best thing an artist can do is follow their own unique impulse. Artists need to push back against the bizarre human drive to homogenize everything. They need to reach beyond the inadequate systems we live inside.

I think diversity of culture and human expression is the most valuable thing we can cultivate as a species. I also think it’s important for artists to have an anti-cruelty stance. There’s so much cruelty in our history and baked into our systems. I think the artist’s role is to look unflinchingly at this and attempt to untie those knots. Art can be part of the antidote to the bad ideas that seem to cling to our brains and stunt our evolution.

Have you experienced Lucid Dreaming or any kind of encounter with cosmic consciousness?

Yes, I’ve had quite a few experiences that have felt outside of normal cognitive experience. Each of these experiences feel incredibly valuable to me and I’m thankful for them. Mostly I’ve regretted it whenever I’ve tried to describe them to people. They feel like something to internalize and hold close. It’s easy to discount things that don’t fit with the narrative of the everyday, so I try to think about those experiences a lot and not let them fade into doubt.

When did you create or discover your own archetypical patterns?

I started with automatic drawing, just letting my hand draw without knowing where it would go. Through that, a lot of patterns and imagery naturally began to emerge and I would just kind of follow that. Through years of working in this way and contemplating the recurring symbols, a lot of ideas and feelings started taking shape. Making comics became a way to explore that more actively by trying to unlock the stories and concepts that my drawings were revealing to me.

Has your work ever lead you to an experience of intuition or synchronicity?

Following an artistic impulse is in itself an intuitive and synchronistic experience. It adds an extra dimension to my daily life and when I have positive momentum in my work, I feel like that crosses over into my daily life and helps me see connections and meaning. Putting my work out into the world has also allowed me to meet a lot of people I wouldn’t have met otherwise, so in that way, I feel like dedicating myself to making art has allowed me to have important friendships that have inspired and helped me grow.

What do you like to cook?

I love cooking. I cook almost every night. I like to make enchiladas with sauce made from scratch. I like making sushi, jambalaya, grilled pizza, salmon. It’s just fun to work a kitchen and try to be efficient with all the different elements in play and it’s satisfying to serve up something good to my family. Cleaning up the kitchen afterwards is not as fun.

Theo Ellsworth is a self-taught artist living in Montana. His previously published comics include Capacity, The Understanding Monster, Sleeper Car, and An Exorcism. The New York Times once called his work, Imagination at firehose intensity. He has been the recipient of the Lynd Ward Honor Book Prize and an Artist Innovation Award. He loves creative collaboration, cooking, and making family folk art with his kids. He is constantly making invisible performance art in his head that no one will ever see.

more info and books by Theo Ellsworth

_{Interview by Mitchell Pluto from SULΦUR surrealist jungle archive 15 OCT 2021}

Gerald Stone Mysteries

Gerald Stone’s roots flow from 1/2 Seminole and 1/8 Cherokee tribes: These worlds are, out of time, landscapes within landscapes, tribes, spirits, watchers, seekers, giants, red-haired women, murdered and missing, space stretched and bent, stories vibrating across time.

From a show at the Crocker Museum in Sacramento a write-up describes Gerald Stone as a “beloved local master artist”. Gerald himself just brushed off the accolades and calls his work “weird”. His stylized art, which he describes as a conversation between himself and his Creator, bridges traditional and contemporary styles and themes.

1947 Born in the far reaches of rural Oklahoma, Stone was a kid who liked to draw and has lived a life of peaks and valleys, always around the midline of art. Just 3 days before he was scheduled to enlist in the Army, headed most likely to Vietnam, he was accepted for a 2 year post graduated program at the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) in Santa Fe, a city often considered the center of the Native American art world.

In 2009 Gerald Stone finally had the successful solo exhibition. He now shows in only a few galleries and also sells from his home.

_{edited by Mitchell Pluto from SULΦUR surrealist jungle}_{archive 29 OCT 2021}