ART AROUND THE BLOCK
Saturday, November 4th
10-4 PM
PAST EVENTS
PRINCE HALL FIRST FRIDAY ART INVITATIONAL
AUGUST 6, 7-10 PM
@ LOADING DOCK PRINCE HALL
216 E LENOIR
DAVID IS NOW A RESIDENT ARTIST @ LITMUS GALLERY & STUDIOS
STUDIO OPEN ON FIRST FRIDAYS AND BY APPOINTMENT
NEW EXHIBIT
ORDER FROM CHAOS: THE ART OF NEGENTROPY
PAINTINGS OF TRANSITION AND RENEWAL
At the Gallery of the Libi Eir (Awakened Heart) Mikveh
Beth Meyer Synagogue
504 Newton Rd, Raleigh NC 27615
EXHIBIT OPENING
Saturday FEBRUARY 8, Noon till 3 PM
(paintings on display from February 1-May 1, 2020)
TREE SILHOUETTE mixed media, acrylic on unstretched canvas with black ribbon frame, 30"x55". On view at the Libi Eir gallery.
Waterside
acrylic on stretched canvas, 30"x40"x2
on loan from the collection of Dr. Louis and Susan Reich
on display at the Gallery of Libi EIr Feb 1-May1.
acrylic on stretched canvas, 30"x40"x2
on loan from the collection of Dr. Louis and Susan Reich
on display at the Gallery of Libi EIr Feb 1-May1.
RAIN RUNNER, 4 ft X 6 ft, unstretched canvas with gold on black ribbon stitched frame (thank you Dr. EZ Taylor)
Join me this First Friday, February 7, 5-9pm for First Friday at Litmus Gallery
Join me this First Friday, February 7, 5-9pm for First Friday at Litmus Gallery
|
VERNISSAGE of the Month
to be displayed First Friday September 6. |
|
|
|
|
RECENT PAST EVENTS
DAVID PERFORMS SPOKEN WORD
WITH MUSICIANS FROM
"THE NEGENTROPIC COLLECTIVE"
AT IMURJ, 300 S McDowell, Raleigh NC
On Thursday @ 7 PM, JUNE 20th
JUNE 23rd, SUNDAY 6:30 AT IMURJ
PoArtry- A Conversation with the Art of Negentropy
POETS WILL READ THEIR RESPONSES TO THE PAINTINGS ON EXHIBIT AT IMURJ
(see poems below). "THE NEGENTROPIC COLLECTIVE" A PONG* BAND WILL BACK UP THE POETS.
*Poetry to Song
|
|
|
|
LITMUS GALLERY
312 W CABARRUS ST.
RALEIGH, NC 27601
Lunchtimes: DAVID WILL BE CONDUCTING ART DEMOS AT IMURJ
BLUE RIDGE II.
|
FACE TIME
BIOLUMINESCENCE
|
AFFORDABLE PAINTINGS ON SALE NOW AT THE IMURJ GIFT SHOP. 300 S MCDOWELL, RALEIGH NC and
@ LITMUS GALLERY 312 W CABARRUS, RALEIGH NC |
HARVEST (left) and FIREPOT (right). Acrylic mixed media.
|
|
DURHAM ART GUILD EXHIBIT AT DURHAM ARTS COUNCIL -APRIL 19 opening -June 8
|
"STILL LIFE IN A RAINY BRAIN".INSPIRED AFTER VIEWING MATISSE.
FOR SALE AT THE DAC |
ART OF MIND @ IMURJ
May 3rd opening-June 3
HEALING A MIND FROM FEAR
on display at Imurj, 300 S McDowell, Raleigh
May 3rd opening-June 3
HEALING A MIND FROM FEAR
on display at Imurj, 300 S McDowell, Raleigh
PoArtry: POETIC CONVERSATION WITH THE ART OF NEGENTROPY | SUNDAY JUNE 23RD 6:30 PM @ IMURJ
IMURJ poets have a poetic conversation with David's art.
|
|
THE GOLEM SLEEPS
|
ALYSON FULLER-SMITH
'THE GOLEM SLEEPS" |
ASPHALT CONTRAILS
|
Reflection
(to Asphalt Contrails) By Colleen McNamara Caught in the rain, sought shelter of a tree Stayed safe and dry, no insurance policy Clean rain falls, but what about Flint? 500,000 gallons of poison polluting kids Government filters are being issued for voices To silence the childless, hiding their choices The TV screams loud, but doesn't ring true Our brothers and sisters are not in the news And as the rain eased, the tree's halo shone With unity in humanity, Flint's not alone |
|
Dialogue- 2nd Take by Antino Art
I sit beside myself on mornings like this, one coffee between us. We grab a chair facing the window. I ask, "What is her favorite color?"
A wordless song pours overhead: 'Sophisticated Lady' by Duke Ellington. We barely know her. "In jazz, the solos are the parts you look forward to," I convince myself.
"These things take time," I add. So we wait staring out the window at the road ahead, until the untouched coffee settles to room temperature. We leave it there, head for the door into the rainy December mist.
She shows up hours later, orders an Earl Grey, sits in the same chair. She covers her face with the latest issue of The Stranger, opened to the horoscope.
"You will fall back in love with yourself." Coffee and rain sound good together, and Seattle knows it. They bring out the clear blue sky within. Or at least that's what I'd tell her.
I sit beside myself on mornings like this, one coffee between us. We grab a chair facing the window. I ask, "What is her favorite color?"
A wordless song pours overhead: 'Sophisticated Lady' by Duke Ellington. We barely know her. "In jazz, the solos are the parts you look forward to," I convince myself.
"These things take time," I add. So we wait staring out the window at the road ahead, until the untouched coffee settles to room temperature. We leave it there, head for the door into the rainy December mist.
She shows up hours later, orders an Earl Grey, sits in the same chair. She covers her face with the latest issue of The Stranger, opened to the horoscope.
"You will fall back in love with yourself." Coffee and rain sound good together, and Seattle knows it. They bring out the clear blue sky within. Or at least that's what I'd tell her.
Dusk Hideaway
Four Ways of Looking at Dusk Hideaway by David Rubin
A stream meanders, bends and turns.
The brash discretion of a blue woman’s back.
Blue forest girl rejects connection.
The rash direction of a trickle’s track.
A sound attracts the hidden goddess in the vernal swath.
Some thing becomes way off beyond the boisterous reeds.
A stream meanders, bends and churns.
A newly nest of woman noodle soup.
--David Lieberman
Four Ways of Looking at Dusk Hideaway by David Rubin
A stream meanders, bends and turns.
The brash discretion of a blue woman’s back.
Blue forest girl rejects connection.
The rash direction of a trickle’s track.
A sound attracts the hidden goddess in the vernal swath.
Some thing becomes way off beyond the boisterous reeds.
A stream meanders, bends and churns.
A newly nest of woman noodle soup.
--David Lieberman
Familia De Finca
Fields for rooms know cathedral ceilings
highest ever worked for
built in
lightning shows
taking focus off the flowers and up:
air of grain | water of hot | mouth of dirt
Cloud-shadow congealing like oil or agency
over machines saving backs easy as
breaking jobs by
lines of solid color
tilled out like separate beliefs and lifted eyes
strata in clay | in years | in funneled minutes
Children for work but they drink too much
-:Sun:- in summer
hardly a verb
hopefully a promise
of plenty: take to the wind to the rotation
reap this time | this whisper | this remember
Loose roots claim a together beneath the was
bleaching in the wormy dark saying
how it is now
how it is sometimes
how it is purpose what binds the slowest when
raked by the warmth | the hour | the open weight.
- Joshua Lamm
DESERT SUNSET
You wanna know what I see?
I see colors.
Like my people, white and black, but we’re brothers.
You wanna know what I feel?
I don’t.
Because like AZ said in “The Format”, the Cyph is closed.
You wanna know what I think?
I think a lot.
And sometimes it takes up everything I got.
I see purple. I see yellow. I see blue. I see green.
To be honest, it’s pretty, one of the prettier things I’ve seen.
I see brushstrokes, and paint, endless colors, no start.
I see so much, but I’m not good with art.
I see a field in the desert, little bits of grass.
Not like the drugs I can’t buy when I’m low on cash.
I see mountains, and flowers, and a sun that is setting
While Earth’s humans wait for the end, throwing dice and betting.
-Veronica Tomás
You wanna know what I see?
I see colors.
Like my people, white and black, but we’re brothers.
You wanna know what I feel?
I don’t.
Because like AZ said in “The Format”, the Cyph is closed.
You wanna know what I think?
I think a lot.
And sometimes it takes up everything I got.
I see purple. I see yellow. I see blue. I see green.
To be honest, it’s pretty, one of the prettier things I’ve seen.
I see brushstrokes, and paint, endless colors, no start.
I see so much, but I’m not good with art.
I see a field in the desert, little bits of grass.
Not like the drugs I can’t buy when I’m low on cash.
I see mountains, and flowers, and a sun that is setting
While Earth’s humans wait for the end, throwing dice and betting.
-Veronica Tomás
A DREAM CATCHER CAUGHT ME SWIMMING by Jose Martinez
New age synthetics and pulp
fiction is the dialogue between how I speak
what I actually think
man bastardized nutrients, there’s cruelty in the meat
lead in the water
I feel privilege run with the faucet's stream as I brush my teeth,
look for signs
an indication I am here, awake
check palms and digits, disfigured like the clock’s face
I face the weight of knowing I am in a dream,
by passage of my slumbering psyche
God sent me a message
She said: “stay gucci, keep it one-hunnit”
or maybe too much TV over engagement
is how we’ve been praying ourselves
Congratulations! I shout down the well of being
my reflection walks away
I trip through cowboy land,
when I say cowboy land
I mean America’s team subscribed to milking the teat
gushing ignorance, arrogance — misguidance
contemporary escapism is no resolution for facts show
MAGA hats on little white kids
oil pipelines, dogs, and tear gas for American natives
below a Texas underpass stirs Mexican internment camps
I found some strength waking y en mi sueños
from the simple act of no longer turning my back.
Duned by Luther B. Graves
Hello old friend,
I’ve given it much thought and perhaps we should set sail one last time.
Time, something so vast and endless and yet it seems I haven’t much left.
The days of my youth are long gone. Nights of dancing and song are now just
memories and photos left in frames covered with dust. But my adventurous spirit
lives on. I feel the last ember still burning strong. I do not want my bones to be laid
within the earth, for the water that makes up my being is from the sea. From which
all life crawled out of, to which I wish to return. But I am weak. The full moons of
nearly a century has pulled the life from me like the sands of the receding shoreline.
So, I will sit here and wait. Waiting in hopes that if not my body, then at least my
spirit will be pulled out to sea with the next rising tide. The voyage of a soul not quite as old.
Hello old friend,
I’ve given it much thought and perhaps we should set sail one last time.
Time, something so vast and endless and yet it seems I haven’t much left.
The days of my youth are long gone. Nights of dancing and song are now just
memories and photos left in frames covered with dust. But my adventurous spirit
lives on. I feel the last ember still burning strong. I do not want my bones to be laid
within the earth, for the water that makes up my being is from the sea. From which
all life crawled out of, to which I wish to return. But I am weak. The full moons of
nearly a century has pulled the life from me like the sands of the receding shoreline.
So, I will sit here and wait. Waiting in hopes that if not my body, then at least my
spirit will be pulled out to sea with the next rising tide. The voyage of a soul not quite as old.
ALIEN - Charles Uzzell (in response to Aliens Among Us)
She stole my painting
For money
Green paper crap
Not very tasty
I took it
And my work
Floated out to unknown reaches
Aliens passed by in blue they
Cook plankton for delicacies
Crunchy things
Salty
I wonder if they can cook money
Mixed coin, copper silver and nickel
Soups of green
Brews fermented & poured through seaweed nettles, brief sting, a welter
She gave me money
Though parts of me broke away
She stole my painting
For money
Green paper crap
Not very tasty
I took it
And my work
Floated out to unknown reaches
Aliens passed by in blue they
Cook plankton for delicacies
Crunchy things
Salty
I wonder if they can cook money
Mixed coin, copper silver and nickel
Soups of green
Brews fermented & poured through seaweed nettles, brief sting, a welter
She gave me money
Though parts of me broke away
THE ART OF NEGENTROPY | FIRST FRIDAY JUNE 7th 2019 @ IMURJ GALLERIES
David will be a featured artist for the month of June. Join him for the opening on the 7th and throughout the month. His art is now on sale in the gift shop.
Sea Turtle Seeking Jane
|
|
ALIENS AMONG US
|