A spirit leaves

I know what to say

Theres a well up ahead

Take me there now

Not right here instead...

I close my eyes and wonder where you're walking to right now

Is it light I want to know I need to ask you how

Imagine you are back with us you'd see your body still

Maybe there's a want in there but not a bloody will

It's gone a little quiet now I need to hear your voice

Your little cough assures me it never was your choice

Stop... I understand it now, you had to swing my way

To leave us all behind you knew you had to go today

Well I'm not very happy with this choice we didn't make

We have to come together for just every bodies sake

Punching in the numbers in my phone I had to break

Some news I'd rather turn around and throw into the lake

I'm going to take you with me if you'll only stick around

There ain't no way we'll ever leave you lonely underground

Your smile will return someday a younger looking face

It's there for you to wear again... well you know, just in case

I know what to say

There's a well up ahead

Take me there now

Not right here instead

KF

A very difficult poem to write.  And I have acknowledged it.  It's incredibly difficult to see a parent sick, even harder to see them go.  I'm proud of how it has brought us all together.  I'm proud of how we've all coped.  I was told by a friend to give ourselves time to get through this.  Time, it's a precious thing. K

What a star

I've spent hours in galleries pondering... and hours in my gallery while others ponder.  I don't like sitting still.  I don't like being centre stage.  I don't like talking about my art while I'm trying to sell it. I think it pays to be honest with yourself.  Do what suits you, what works for you and what sits right.  Everything is food for thought, to be chewed up and spat out.  When my brains not traveling it's busy eating itself... 

Ears pricked up and on alert.  Filling in space so delicate it shatters it's own record.  A filter of light...

A powerful thunder from the devils throat... standing in awe of the sound.  Buying another...

A sketch so clammy on the high seas... leaning over to take one for the team.  Journey on...

A true blue from the palette of Professor Peacock and Miss Scarlet.  Shining in the wonder hall...

Drizzling in smoke, pants on fire, a breath of fresh air... what Popeye would cough up from sea...

A mouthful of mist, chewed up and spat at from every wise bud on tongues floor...

A kind of mesh, not sure if it's coming or going.  Slipping in from the outer nether regions of stars eye...

An icy surprise on grass so green it lends ink to the mint for refinement...

What a star... somewhere between super and duper... sprinkling everywhere, sparking another flame, chewing through blue like butter through knife, chop chop. K

Everything is inspiration to me... everything. 

Dam, well... spill

Back to the shore, where the waves roll in

Back to the gentle winds, of warm tropical lands

Rarotonga is calling

The drums are gently beating

Warm smoke lingers in the trees

and the day passes without a care

The gentle waves roll in, as they crash on the outer reef

The sand is moving sideways

and tiny hermit crabs are running

The wind rushes through nearby trees

Dancing through the fronds

Changing tempo as it ducks and weaves its

way around the leaves

The gentle way of life we need awaits us from the shore

It won't be long, we will be back

To enjoy the shore some more

KF

Walking around Edgewater Resort in Rarotonga amongst our artwork was truly magical.  Hanging just above reception is the first of many paintings we sent over for our commission.   One painting for every island in the Cook Islands. Such a learning experience and we found our artwork all over the resort... from the day spa to the conference room, it was a pleasure to be part of their story. K

Sing me a picture

My brain is singing a quiet tune, today it's soft and mellow

A quiet peaceful thoughtful tale of yesterdays tomorrow

Up the tempo, turn up the sound, I feel like I'm exploding

Got to get those beats out or my brain'll start imploding

Paint a beat and paint a note, streak music across the board

I find it from my catalogue, which in my head I hoard

Listen even with no sound, there's music in every place

It's taking up... each and every... little bit of space

I must go back to sing my song, quietly with brush in hand

And see those little drops of paint, and see just where they land

Each one must tell a little tale, a little part of us

A little part of journeys had, all crammed inside the bus

The music in the art we see, it never sleeps or rests

What music we ourselves must hear, well that is ours to test

KF

I grew up with music, a lot of classical music, and a lot of comedy.  Dad was always so passionate about anything he was listening to at the time... and I loved winding him up about rap or heavy metal.  Just seeing his reaction was amusing and he'd almost be exploding with opinions.  I think I inherited this trait for sure, as I got older I would love to study different music and genres.  I've always thought of writing poetry as writing songs, with a certain rhythm you can expand on words, round them out and keep the flow going.  Same thing with painting, but in a different way.  

I had to explore this, and I started thinking of paintings as songs, the exhibition an album.  Not an original idea by any means, I'm sure others have thought the same.  But by listening and channeling ideas through my brain while painting, subconsciously creates an interesting and often totally random result I'd never be able to plan, or replicate.  Bit like flooding your mind to dam, well... spill.  And spill it did. K

The Deep Water

She goes everywhere when she dreams... in a quiet lounge, on the plane, at the shops, she goes everywhere.  Sometimes she paints a thread of light, sometimes she paints nothing at all.  Why do people do that, she wonders.  Why do they feel the need to do that.  She paints another moon, or is it a liquid sun... time will tell...

And this place she goes, and she does go there, is raging and calm.  At the falls, she stands close to the edge.  She reaches out to find his hand there as always.  Standing free to absorb the wind, he lets her have her moment.  She loves the feel of his palm in hers.  It feels safe...

She feels the sea dripping lush thoughts into her every pore.  She feels him there.  What a day, she's part of a team now, and it matters what she does.  It really matters...

The wire.  It's hard to balance up here, he reaches his hand, steadies her shadow, and not looking down, she walks his line.  Another circus, a golden touch, she's free to dream.  She walks this often, into the sunset... it's where she goes when she paints.  It's her other world, and both are wonderful.  She is another person here, when she dreams, in pictures, she is authentic.  A soul exposed to the light, melting fast... I didn't catch your name she said, it's... 

Alright... there, in the breeze, in the light, in the fire... she paints up a storm.  Lovely flame.  Shall we... they slide through the night, like a bonfire on a deserted beach.  I believe in you, she said.  I believe in you too.  You haven't painted for a while, yeah I'm having a little break, it's a long story.  Don't make it too long, what the story or the break... hahaha you've got this...

Anyway, pubs gonna close soon... last drinks.  Time for a last dance, any requests... yeah that one about, you know.  Against the white wash walls, it's morning.  How good was that... 

Wow, thats deep, oh yeah. I love the city in the morning, the smell of coffee, where's my shoes, who cares, just buy some more. K

I chose to have my first art exhibition in Samoa, after the 2009 South Pacific Tsunami.  It is a place very special to our family and is entwined in our own unique story.  Reflections of Samoa became a vehicle for me to pour my heart out, in a way that was colourful and fun.  Using lava lava material purchased from the market in Apia in 2008, our love of nature came to life in such an honest way.

I choose to go deeper into my art.  So deep in fact, it crosses over into every other element.

I choose to step between the two... only then do I fully grasp what I've done.  

Only then do I feel comfortable to share. 

Only then do I feel less vulnerable. 

I have shared this space. 

And I will again.  K

Out of the Deep

Rising up and out of the ocean

A wave, a mountain, a dream

Rising up and out of the deep

A hope, a reality, a new life

We are what we remember

We are what we do

Time marching forwards

Carrying us along

Mystery, depth and spirit

Always there beside you

Grab it and embrace it tight

And let it be your guide

KF

A tango in the night

Lost in a gaze... a rest in the music.  The thoughts flood in.  It's so good to be free, free of what, carefree, fancy free, footloose, just free, are you free?  I'm free.  I like your suit, she said, it really suits you... sorry, couldn't help myself... these boogie nights.  I love your little tango...

Who is that piano man anyway?  I haven't seen him before.  But this place, it's cool.  I really love this wine bar.  Shall we go have a drink, she whispers.  Yeah sounds good, another cherry riot.  Ooh you know me too well...

She lights the kiln, fires up, drapes herself in clouds.  It's a beautiful day today, a light and airy day, and she's enjoying the moment.  It's how it should be, it's how it is, it's how it always was, in her dreams.  A place of light, a piano melody, a bursting star, another fire, lit.  A call for song, she plays that tune again... and walks over to her canvas...

A significant sentiment.  Let's grab a bite, I know this great little place down the market she goes,

they have the best food this time of night...

We're on the pier, a calm and peaceful evening, leaning together against the railing.  A first love, the dreamy innocence of a sweet gesture.  Words mingle with air.  A strong and loving wrap, around shoulders...

He grabs her hand, they walk into the club... come on then, let's hit the floor.  Weaving through the mash of bodies everywhere, the walls are swaying... they're in their own world.  A delicate, strong and intimate world.  They're flung around the dance floor in time with the steps, she's spinning, like a light under his arm, he's twirling her around.  She collapses on his arm... his shoulder is hot, he presses his nose into her neck, she giggles, presses her fingers into his side... exhilarated, infatuated, ambiguous ride.

Art from our Dreams... A tango in the night. K

The Art of Story

Part 1...

Another bedtime story, the light fades to mauve.  They share many stories.  She tells him about her first job making sandwiches.  She's made a lot of sandwiches since then...

He tells her about the city lights he's seen from the driving seat.  She listens intently, his every word transcending...

And in a field of gold, they drift.  K

Water under the Bridge

It mattered then but not no more, at the time it seemed

New rivers always flowing forth, from mountains, paths and streams

The river and the path it makes, A constant on the land

Just like lines and fingerprints, all covering the hand

And so the river comes from way up high up on the ridge

To bring with it new drops and drips

And water under the bridge

Before it disappears and flows its way towards the sea

I stop and look down from the bridge

And it looks back at me

KF

I have a lot of words and artwork to unravel and it's all part of our journey.  Getting there with a little help from my friends lol... 

Part 2...

Taking a pause, the shining moonlight pulls the tide higher.  An emotional surge through the depths, as if the ocean is waving their name...

It takes a lot of courage to stand in this place.  A lot has gone down here, or is that the river settling after all the rain...

There's an understanding between them that requires no words.  Like an epic journey, they've traveled a long way to be.  Hear.  K

Lifes little pieces

Amazing little moments, carrying through time

Fitting altogether, and slipping into line

Echo into silence, forgetting not a one

Enjoying lifes little pieces, and freezing them in time

I will not see you crying, I will not be afraid

Another little piece of life is sitting in the fray

If time was but an hour and its time upon us had

Would pieces fall lie floating leaves, and cover up the land

I hold lifes little pieces, I hold them in my hand

To fill my heart with happiness and walk on hand in hand

KF

...finding out what makes art.  What is it.  Thats the real question in life for me.  There are times I cannot paint, and times I cannot write, as much as there are times I paint and write profusely.  Its effortless.

Art can heal, as your heart is breaking.  Its important.  We need to share.  

Art can heal. K

The Flame

Scream

So loud only the proud can bear the pain to hear again

So high for the universe gathers your dust

So much that your tongue begs for mercy

Even more till your skin peels off then...

talk softly and

whisper your name

Spell it out in a 

Flame

KF

I've just booked a weeks accommodation in Ubud, Bali during the month of July.  I'm really looking forward to seeing what inspires the next round of creativity.  Finishing this art travel tour has been easy this time as we look back on the highlights and forward to the next big adventure.  As we travel, we'll post to our travel blog www.jandalsinparadise.blogspot.com ... as we rest, we'll post here.  Happy days.  K

Off the cuff

thats a big watch you must be

real busy

...

Yeah sure I 

don't mind taking a selfie

of you all

KF

Light Rain

 'Le riverie coule profonde'... 'The river runs deep'

Ruby Ridge, at the very epicentre of art.  An ember sits still in the night, beating.  Shedding light on the riverbank walk.  The moon, pleased to meet you...

Carved into our skulls, relics of the past, Tense memories, scratching the surface.  Released from their reliquary brain shaped tomb...

Shape shifting, Spirit lifting, Cloudy host, In the shape of a ghost...

Graffiti decorations painted on the side of Crown Casino.  Paper skeletons dance all night...

Scattered postcards, reaching for the city.  The beach, a room with a view.  Snow falling alps.

The lake we once knew.  Is that the meaning of Saudade too...

The innocence of youth.  She bites into her halloween gummy bear sugar skull candy...

Smiling next to you in quiet silence through the years.  Livin' on a prayer...  The river runs deep in the shadows tonight. K

Driving Range

Swing your head around this room and your paintbrush'll be dropping another hint from the cup, easily hanging out with the audience, lets ask.  Just one more thought from the corner stand screams SPICE from the under bench staples and blends elements together in a bass, no strings attached.  The idea at first seems fitting to the brief, as luck would have it, so does the third and every second counts.  A wonderful little world of etiquette asks the delicate question... does my us look big in this genie?  Make room for dessert, another course delivers on flavour.  Bomb... 

It was a long time ago I painted these pieces and they have made the rounds for sure.  I've sold art in the craziest of places sometimes, even selling a piece from the boot of my car and another from off the wall in our BnB.  None of which were up for sale at the time.  Crazy how to price art for sale, and even crazier how pieces just find their owners.  I've always found that the most fascinating part of the whole process.

I've often been asked if I miss a painting, or wish I'd kept it and the answer is always no. You move on from things and feelings and stuff. I've even painted over pieces I've really loved just to experiment with an idea brewing at the time.  And I think if I hadn't moved through all those ideas I'd probably be stuck somewhere between 'what am I doing now' and 'what do I wanna be doing'. And that is worth a lot to me. K 

I wanna go where 2 roads meet, up the mountain tops

I wanna go where dreams are free, my favourite ever spot

I wanna go and melt away a river running deep

I wanna go tuck in the clouds and sing the night to sleep

Lullaby

KF