So I must admit i have been rather preoccuiped with getting all my body painting photographs ready for the book i am printing, thus i dont have any painting process photos to share of my two paintings in the works. However i feel both paintings should be done by monday and I will share photos of them finished then.
In the meantime check this out- a treat for the ears:
Bone and All
Wrong Side of the Sunrise:
Take a trip through a conscience, sculpted and refined with mind melting psychedelic tracks created by Bone and All. Each track is its own unique treasurbox, adorned with the poetic spoken word of Artist Chelsea Rose, whos words conjure and evoke strange truths from the depths of the sacred and unknown.
"Wrong Side of the Sunrise" features Artist/Poet Chelsea Rose on five new mind altering tracks produced by Bone and All in the Fall of 2010. It opens with the mystic "My Epitaph", followed up by the backwards zen of "The Great Transformer", then have you breath taken away with "Words From a Predecessor", then really dive deep into the mind of madness with "Thunder in My Head", and finally transcending into new conscience with "Wrong Side of the Sunrise".
Take a listen here.
And for those who are interested...here are a few poems that i wrote recently, a couple of which i read peices from out loud for the musical concontion above:
"I am the elated Goddess, wild dancing spirit warrior equipped with the full fledged and precious talons of ...life held close to my sweet thighs, rebounding and evolving with the supple repercussions made in the blooming of this cosmic flower.
My flesh, holding fast and courageous to this world and its enchantment is made sacred and perfect in its menagerie of strange treasure and fruit.
My roots are fleshy and gorged with the sweetness of blood stemming to prove with each rhythmic palpation of my flaming heart, the conviction and blessing of this honored existence.
These bones of mine are an architectural prayer that shall remain gleaming white and pure as the moon, like eternal kernels of truth, long after this slippery soft succession of flesh falls and mates with the dirt.
Sacred and beaming, my song spirals and weaves worlds with voluptuous tendons of destiny- birthing wildly from my cauldron womb, swelling my breasts with the heavy milk of creation.
Know me with your most tender devotion for I am a portal.
My insides, pink and mild, touch deeper still into the void with which we all must pass…
….for I am The Great Transformer.
-by Chelsea Rose"
"Blatant and harrowing the blue smoke climbed umbilical and groping in the shattered light
as a symbol gleaming hot and molten in the shadows of failure
penetrating deep and wallowing into the rotten core of the eye
staring from above which holds so little brightness within
but devours and hordes each jewel like a basilisk
with its talons of thorn, pulped and splintered with vein
within the beast the empty sequence of palpating calculation prevails
holding court a governing insurgence lined thick in mortar and scheming reverie
up taking and dissecting the definition of self and steal atop the brim of strangers tongues
their mouths agape with perpetual strain made stiff and groping at the dust in the swollen air
as maimed pretenders lifting numb the bulbs of their palms to the slate above
groveling in listlessness with pealed and bleached bone
protruding from each scab bound thick and embedded with wounded words
each inky character an illusory phantasm seeking to explain the truth out of the roots and dirt
as patterns speak volumes of chaos and riddle
when the bright plains of golden dawn break warm and frothy above each head
the conspirators lock fang with bounding intent
chaining reason to prescription till no heart gleams without predator forecast
birthing dreams that inscroll with twisted metal
settling over the spilt reminders of all that is genuine
the self claims the cannibal status of a pawn and fool
waiting weighted and exposed to the corrosive embrace that laps thick with eclipsing cages
ensnaring in unison each blind feeler
holding onto broken limbs and vision
groping for that line drawn in murky breath
separating this impalpable undertow
from the chance of manifest truth
the blossom weeps its seeds
floating adrift a glassy memoir
its reflection a towering waif
petals of cosmic reverb lay bent and rigid with meditated grace
a silent kindling of force it dredges up
forming new feathers of transformation
to splay at the feet of the fallen once more."
-By Chelsea Rose
"A sign lights the loose window hanging in the heart’s home of heat
Combing the gray interior of riddled pavements
this toothy spectral lights in passing mosaic within
enacting the groveling lament of glory and spoil
forever nimble and eloquent these barbiturates fan the flame
are you thankfull?
Aloof in a riotous hovering, a conjuring steeped and mouthing steam
this moth and its pyre spells the dripping fleet of sky
Nestling in its entanglement of surprised peace
Nourished again by the eclipsing pages of blunder and steal
Holding a cripple- A scolded movement made glassy and taunt
A weapon made crystal and coveted
Will surely coddle this matriarch and her feathered head
Netted again is the same menagerie of blood in vials
Don’t ask to penetrate this door and its oak
The barbs are poised and laden
With the fruit of hallowed horizon
Milky and skeletal in its perfect silent farce
Do not spoil this
The soft sound of leaves on my bones
Does it not beg the question from my curdled lip?
Like velvet the cocoon is caught up and glows with a fierceness I can’t commune
All of this
In my home of slacken skin and curling mane"
-by Chelsea Rose