A Building at Rest — An Ode to the Medieval and Lehman Wings


Ecstasy and Passion
Ecstasy and Passion

A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from over 140 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from a Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Throes of Spiritual Passion
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasm

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Planet Rock’s Soul Sonic Force into the Fantastic Voyage


Greetings and Salutations from the Fantastic Voyage!

Voyage to Planet Rock with the Soul Sonic Force

This is Cheytan and I’ve been asked to step out of one of my Mistress’ stories to conduct you on a voyage to Planet Rock and the Soul Sonic Force. Wait a minute. Excuse me but some of the other spirit creations are trying to break free before their time and they’re causing an awful din. Hey you guys! Silence! Thank you. Now I can proceed.

Planet Rock is the mutually created state between self and Goddess whereby you repeatedly step out of one state of being into a personal universe of goddesses, dreams, visions, reveries, and fantasies. Living inside ones head with the ability to return to the Three dimensional worlds for discourse with earthly flesh and blood. Some forays take you over to the dark side but one must always have a plan or a way of escape or you will be consigned to dwell in the nether regions ruled by the Tormentor and populated with demented of the worst sort. I’m fortunate in that my ancestral angels have not only pulled me back but accompanied me, overshadowing my being with a golden celestial aura.

Anytime I’m dissatisfied with the present reality I retreat to my the Living Museum– a parallel universe populated by artists and writers who have long since shed their mortal coils but reside in a world that they exercise the power to recreate the landscape through the simple action of pen, brush or chisel. Occasionally the inhabitants may get out of hand but they are allowed to stray from their appointed pathway only in the greater scheme of destinies.  The Muses are always by their sides enabling them to morph into alternate beings, with the ability to inhabit the glories of past and future worlds both terrestrial and celestial.

Each chamber has alternative portals that open Fantasy Realms with many alter-egos and avatars each vying to impress Mistress Cheytan”!

These imaginings and illusions become landscapes and dreamscapes opening into one another via a painting, sculpture or through the written word. The Pharaohs of ancient Egypt copulating with Flappers of 1920s America producing a race of superhuman beings and biomorphic forms who populate the fourth dimension world of Modern Art. The dissolute household, Isis, Ishtar, Nzingha, Makeda, Storm, the Borg Queen Lilith, Juan de Pareja, phantasms from the paintings of Tanguy and Carrington, the Wizard of OZ, Star Wars, all  meet  in a Great Celebration!

Juan de Pareja plays ethereal music upon a 17th Century Italian Harpsichord accompanied by musical voices that have taken the form of African drums, old Negro Spirituals, Baptist Hymns, Native American, Gregorian and Buddhist chants. Dwellers from the off center worlds of Yves Tanguy and Lenora Carrington dance a ghostly minuet strangely in time with the aforementioned harmonies. Umberto Boccioni mechanical cubist forms shape shift as each civilization raises its songs of praise to their nation’s way of life. Rumi and Hafiz recite poetry in Old Persian. Surreal images of Magritte and villagers from Chagall mix and mingle in a charged atmosphere. All happily exchange and converse within the Stream, that unconscious subtle system of verbal and non-verbal communication. Empaths guided by cues, pheromones, and inner thoughts, dreams and visions.  I fall into the vulgar world voices of the Alexandria Quartet. Suddenly I am Justine, Balthazar, Mountolive and Clea alone, all at once and separate.

Stepping from the filthy foul smelling streets we were ushered into exotic elaborately decorated quarters decorated with expensive Persian rugs, medieval tapestries, silk draperies hung upon windowless walls, tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. A subtle scent of incense permeated the airways. The decorations seemed incongruous yet harmonized together in an irregular yet pleasing manner. Palatial taste a bit ostentatious like a Renaissance bordello. The furnishings were highly articulated and faceted Baroque/Rococo objects, many with deep gouges and gashes suggesting transparency and interior penetration. This room and much of the house as well as the street urchins who passed through seemed to us an Orientalist fantasy. 

Always remember, “A Unicorn seldom this way comes to a locked Garden.”

Excuse me but my Creator Mistress signals me to re-enter the story from which I was summoned.

Folks it was fun being able to briefly enter your world, voice my thoughts and I hope to visit with you again very soon. Alright everybody the party’s coming to my place. Get on the conga line and let’s go!

Donations and Freewill offerings can be made directly to my PayPal account deborah.palmer280@gmail.com

Leda, The Artist Formerly Known as DeBorah Ann

Black Unicorn Rising

Alice’s Wonderland Deconstructed


Life as a Void Consisting of Only Time and Eternity

Black Unicorn Rising

An exploration of Emptiness, Nothingness, Inner and Outer spheres/realms of being

Do women occupy the inner sphere/sanctum of purity? Is the enclosed female space a sign of sanctity whereas the open hinged male space the spirit of adventure? Are women contained by societal definitions of femininity resulting in us being “Birds in Gilded Cages”.  What is the extent of the power we have as women to define ourselves?

Katrin Sigurdardottir’s piece “Boiserie” explores many levels of existence. The enclosed room a replica in white of the Hotel de Cabris located in the Wrightsman galleries of the Met brings to mind a sense of the finite and infinite. As I observed visitors who thought they would be able to see their friends on the other side of the windows, they quickly realized the panes were security glass, meaning one could look in but not out. The mirrors in the room gave the impression of infinity by reflecting endless images. Like the worlds of many French society ladies and nobility they seemed to have everything, yet they had nothing as they were just “birds in a gilded cage” with their pleasure and privilege brought to an end with the French Revolution in 1789.  This first walled in room gives a sense of arrested development. Its progression halted within the pure white room encased in what appears to be rather dingy plywood.

Viewing this exhibit is like looking into a surreal kaleidoscope minus the rainbow, where white is not just the absence of color but has the ability to reflect all around and within it.

Because I as voyeur and viewer share the same gender as the artist this exhibit propelled me into rethinking what it means to be a woman in our society.  Gender has been defined as a social/cultural construct.  Gender can be said to be the attributes and aspects which society says make up the male and the female.  Women even women of wealth and privilege who resided in the royal courts of Europe have always been considered inferior beings.

How are we taught to see masculinity and femininity in our society?  John Berger in Ways of Seeing, writes that, “A man’s presence suggests what he is capable of doing to you or for you.  His presence may be fabricated, in the sense that he pretends to be capable of what he is not.  But the pretence is always towards a power, which he exercises on others.

By contrast, a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her.  Her presence is manifest in her gestures, voice, opinions, expressions, and clothes, chosen surroundings, taste – indeed there is nothing she can do which does not contribute to her presence.  Presence for a woman is so intrinsic to her person that men tend to think of it as an almost physical emanation, a kind of heat or smell or aura.” (p 45-46)

A woman’s space like that depicted by Sigurdardottir’s white room replica of the Hotel de Cabris, is closed and everything about her is directed inward.  Men keep her physically, financially, and emotionally.  Women’s gestures, attitudes and social discourse has been developed and defined within very narrow parameters.  However not only does she watch herself but she watches herself being observed.  She becomes both the subject and object of the male gaze.  As Berger says, she is both the surveyor and the surveyed (p. 46).  In Berger’s definition, men act, women appear (p. 47).

This brings up the issue of stratification of different types of social classes of women.  Women young and old often seek to emulate or embody the concept of glamour.  The behaviors of movie starlets, models, entertainers, and socialites no matter how vulgar, demeaning or degrading have become the order of the day.  However the glamour of media stars is without substance.  Many women failing to reach these unreachable aspirations die ignoble emotional, mental and physical deaths grasping for the brass ring but coming up empty.

Even female garments are designed to create restriction.  Foundation garments such as girdles, corsets or spanx, garters, shoes too tight to be comfortable or heels too high to walk in, suggest a type of captivity.  All are attire that suggest bondage and domination.  A woman is encouraged to be a walking work of art in our society.  Fashion magazines tell her how to dress diet and style her hair.

And what of the women disenfranchised by physical, emotional abuse, domestic violence and sexual harassment.  What of their space.  Can it be recreated or refashioned to include them in the dialogue or are they forever locked out via twin fiends named shame and guilt.  I speak for those women whose space is closed, confined, where the doors are locked and the keys are in the possession of the oppressor.  Once I was a captive of my abuser who physically left me Thanksgiving Day 2007 but the damage he did to my mind, emotions, spirit and psyche has never left me.  He left his imprint on my soul.  The brutes of shame and guilt entrap me by refusing to grant me the ability to trust or love completely.  My only hope at this late stage of my life is that once I transition from this realm into whatever lies beyond I’ll be granted the gift of forgiveness.

I know my absolution will never come from the church or the so-called “body of Christ” as the “church” as a religious entity sanctions male dominance thus the abuse and violent behavior that stems from a patriarchal system.

At present I longingly look through the bars of my prison at those women given pardon and liberty all the while awaiting my next evolution into that great beyond where I will be exonerated, set free and love will once again make an appearance in my life.  But in deference to my ex-boyfriend I dedicate this song to him.

Alice in Wonderland—Bigger, Larger, Smaller, Tinier

Grace Slick & Jefferson Airplane

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WANNqr-vcx0

The extended accordion like rendition of the Hotel de Crillon room also located in the Wrightsman galleries gives a sense of expansion yet all the while the free hinges connecting the smaller and larger doorways gives the viewer the perceived ability to fold up and pack away in a suitcase this wonderful display of abstraction.

The larger doorway is a portal to the imagination, the rooms or cubes within our own minds.  Have I like Alice in the story eaten the cake labeled “Eat Me” and grown too large, then drank the potion labeled “Drink Me” and shrunk too small.  Or like the Alice in the Grace Slick song taken the pills that trick my mind into thinking I’m continually expanding and contracting.  But I like the many visitors to the exhibit calmly walk through happily appreciating the aesthetic qualities of the piece.

These two exhibits are located on the Mezzanine of the Modern Art section of the Met museum.  And just what is the definition of Mezzanine: “A partial story between two main stories of a building.   An intermediate floor between main floors of a building.”

The interpretation of the two Wrightsman rooms is an intermediate, betwixt and between what is real and what is contrived. Similar to the Alice’s trip into Wonderland where reality changes from moment to moment and fantasy is the order of the day.

Can reality be perceived only through the five senses or is reality much like sexuality and/or gender roles only a social construct which time, space and cultures eternally deconstruct and evolve to fit each generations needs.

But I have journeyed from 16th century France, where kings and queens once ruled by divine right only to be deposed through revolution into the 21st century where we read in the papers, on the web and see on television current megalomaniacs and dictators forced to cede their power and authority to the once frightened and enslaved masses who have reclaimed empowerment.  Perhaps since both pieces are constructions of wood paneling or plywood that in itself signifies the falsity of temporal riches.

These two rooms pose questions on gender, race, class and social inequalities than possible answers or solutions to aforesaid dilemmas.  Or perhaps queries that come to mind have within them never-ending possibilities and infinite resolutions.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

www.metmuseum.org

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