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Spring 2008

Poetry

VanBuren's picks:

Antonia Clark
Brad Johnson
Dale McLain
Roger Pfingston
Richard Rippon

John Anderson
Cristina Baptista
Cynthia Brackett-Vincent
Michael Brownstein
Nuala Ní Chonchúir
Alison Eastley
Brent Fisk
David Fraser
Krikor der Hohannesian
Amy MacLennan
Lisa Markowitz
Damon McLaughlin
Micki Myers
Roger Pfingston
Heather Schimel
Rachel Stewart
Lafayette Wattles

Flash Fiction

Matt Alberhasky
Margaret Fieland
Robert Johnson
Willie Smith



On Debunking Modern Art

Alex Nodopaka


Pushcart Nominees

Editors

Jennifer VanBuren
Jai Britton
Patrick Carrington


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Keith Brighouse

keith brighouse

 

Poetry and Art Presented Summer 2006

 


 

Previously pulished in Mannequin Envy

Summer 2006

 

CHERRY

You told me
I should visit in spring
when the cherry blossom is in bloom
and take a walk down by the river

For a moment your romance had won me
as I imagined eating you
beneath pink scented boughs.

But such notions seemed incongruous
in Starbucks in Harijuka
and you wearing a cappuccino foam mustache

Leaning over
I shaved you with my razor tongue
The aesthetic violence

 

AI NO BOREI

We sprawled on the futon
Closeted in her wardrobe sized apartment
Eating ramen from the late night store
And watching Ai No Borei
Patiently she insisted she would educate me
In the genius of Japanese film
Happy to be taken where she would
I was compliant tourist, wide eyed and eager

With Seki's submission to Toyoji's persistence
He lifted his head from between her legs "Shave it!"
"I've never shaved myself." She whispered
I raised an eyebrow and cruelly smiled to see
She had curled like a child, tight about its blanket
Protecting the secret she had revealed
Soft silken strands of unspoiled growth
A fern of delicate musk aromas

A peasant woman defending her husband's crop
Having foolishly dallied with a wayward lover
One by one I unlocked her clasping fingers
Releasing her from her comforter
Naked in all but her clothes she gave
To the direction of my persistent hand
Lifting her arse in way of collaboration
I gently teased off her flimsy underwear

From my vantage point I coldly scanned
Her limbs splayed in a satire
A crucified butterfly in display
Her wet brown eyes darting for a focus
Did I impose or did I discover this need in her?
To incrementally unfold this desire for humiliation
Does she do what she does because she does it for me?
Her eyes, unable to escape mine. Yes, I am Mesmer

A ghost could not elicit such unflinching horror
As I juggled my Swiss army knife
"Scissors." was my snide reassurance
And sake. It procures foolish trust
With bitten lip and wide eyed pleading
She fueled this base and heartless lover
Licking my fingers and plaiting her pubic hair
Into convenient cowlicks to be scythed

Her belly quivering and her thighs trembling
As though each hair was a live wire of nerves
And each cut scarring with an indelible brand
As I carefully harvested each curled lock
Placing each bundle of silky fibres neatly in rows
On a sheet of startling white paper
Each crescent intensifying the abstraction
Of our interlocked motives, her complicity

I brushed the stubble on her mound
Describing in detail her five o-clock shadow
Its coarseness against the grain
The roughness of a coconut, I mocked
Pulling her skirt from her shrouded face
We locked eyes and silently laundered lies
While I creamed her with mousse
"Wider!" I gently insisted, should I nick her

Her grimace provoking my conceit
Rounding her curves, stretching her skin
Pulling to the side her fleshy ridges
As I scraped the blade across her contours
Gently dabbing my labour with a crisp clean towel
Before basting my prize with my tongue
Her fresh and glowing pudendum
Her unzipped labia

* Oshima's film, Empire Of Passion

Keith Brighouse

Artist's Statement

There is a theory that I find compelling and that is, cavemen like children drew such vivid imagery because they lacked sophisticated language. The act of depicting their world was a way of internalizing and experiencing it. We however, exist in a culture of sophisticated verbal language and cannot escape it.

When I was studying art in Sheffield and Rotterdam, the lecturers would encourage the students to create art intuitively and then ask the students to verbally explain the work or at least explain why a particular piece of art worked or failed. Language and imagery was linked. Again, should we go to an art gallery, we understand the art on display, not because we intuitively understand the visual language but because we have learnt the theories that underpin the art through language, whether that be through formal education or absorbing the information through a cultural grapevine. Again, verbal language and visual language are inextricably linked.

For a long time I endeavoured to contrive to separate visual and verbal language, thinking as a good modernist, that the visual exists on its own terms. Picasso was about creating imagery intuitively, yet we had to learn through written language his theories behind this. It is quite ironic that Picasso was one of the artists that popularized collage and written words being incorporated into a visual image. The linkage between the verbal and the visual was there yet again.

Where once I saw this linkage of the two forms of language as problematic to my visual work, I am now at ease with it. I have always written poetry, though only recently had the confidence to write it for public consumption. This poetry has always informed my visual work and my visual work, my poetry. I often find myself tackling the same subject matter through the two mediums simultaneously but I’m always conscious that at the same time one should not be subordinate to the other. I am careful that the visual shouldn’t illustrate the written and the written shouldn’t explain the visual, they are created in parallel. Both art forms being primarily concerned with imagery whether through line or words so there is inevitably an intuitive and an intellectual link. Why deny it?

My series of work about Yukiko, of which some are here published on Mannequin Envy are created in such a way. Being posted together, it might appear that the prints were made to illustrate the poetry but this is not the case. The Yukiko prints were made independently and to stand on their own, though informed by the same experience as the Yukiko poems. They were created with the purely visual in mind. To me, the prints cover parts of the experience that can’t be covered by written language and vice versa.

I do not have a need to create work on a particular subject matter in both art forms. It is that I am usually so consumed by a particular subject matter that I find myself thinking about it both visually and verbally. My ideas in one form of language bounce and ricochet off the other but the visual remains purely visual and the written, written.

I have found that being concerned with poetry and language has affected my visual art in ways that being a purely visual artist wouldn’t. Paint and clay etcetera, is very therapeutic when dealing with it purely as a medium, process is the main consideration. A purely visual artist might and some have, accused me of illustration of which I strongly dispute. I do concede however, that being concerned with language does take my visual work in directions that a lack of concern about language wouldn’t. This acknowledgement by me has led me to looking into ways of combining the two art forms into a homogenous whole, where each element is dependent on they other, rather like the cogs and springs in clockwork become a complete and working mechanism.

 

The work I am currently working on is called Philosophie Absurde, which is an attempt to amalgamate visual imagery and language and involves satirical portraits and imagery, poetry and bastardized quotes. It is an attempt to magnify how imagery and language can combine to misinform and corrupt ideas, though to over intellectualize it, is to miss the point, as it is effectively a Dadaist work.

Click for more work by Keith Brighouse

 

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