David Ronce
  • Start
  • Painting
    • paintings - abstract
    • paintings - energy studies
  • Drawing
    • black & white >
      • bdfr
      • black + white + grey
      • evolving structures
      • larvae
      • Little vertical rectangles
    • color
  • Photography
    • after poets
    • counting days
    • earth, water, graff and air
    • painted and polaroid
  • Video
  • Writing
    • (about she and her)
    • (blog)
    • (notes on a brasilian mythology)
  • Visibility
    • texts/ propaganda
  • About
    • profile / photos
  • Contact
  • Finish

personal annals and phenomena

7/8/2017

0 Comments

 
In her bedroom she kept an old portrait of herself, taken when she was much younger and prettier. I sat on the foot of her bed recently and saw no resemblance between her and the old portrait. Anne watched some trees tossing in the wind outside her bedroom window, probably remembering better times.
0 Comments

eryt.dou

7/6/2017

0 Comments

 
Now and then I have to wrestle one of these things out of my hair, with power pulling and grabbing. Sometimes I find stains of oily heat stuck in there too. I look up nervously with each heartbeat as I think engineers could work on this untroubled.
0 Comments

personal annals and phenomena

7/4/2017

0 Comments

 
Who knows whether or not she will crawl or fall down from her high horse. Rumors are beginning to grow on the wall below her window. Soon I shall pay her a visit and observe what remains of her suffocating arrogance. But in this minute I am distracted by the whacking of cypress limbs on the street below.
0 Comments

Neruda

7/3/2017

0 Comments

 
“It's very hard for me to write about Paul Eluard. I shall go on seeing him near me, alive, with the electric blue deepness, that could see so much and so far, burning in his eyes. He had left French soil, where laurels and roots are woven together in a fragrant heritage. His tall stature was all water and stone, with ancient vines climbing up on it, bearing flowers and flashes of light, nests and transparent songs. Transparence, that's the word. His poetry was crystal hard as rock, water standing still in its singing stream.” (from ‘Conjieso que he vivido: Memorias’, Pablo Neruda)
0 Comments

'personal annals and phenomena'

7/2/2017

0 Comments

 
Instead of going home, I stayed and cut huge pieces of raw wood. (Did you know that female inkworms copulate on the day of Summer solstice and hold the sperm until the following year to become pregnant?) Later I entered an exotic forest underworld where the nymph Breeyon is known to have written poetry celebrating forgotten fugues.
0 Comments

Book of Poppins

7/1/2017

0 Comments

 
“A curious thing. Art can be hearty, frank, and have a strong hold on the physical, participating in a unique visual interaction. These pleasures are as definite and as intelligible as a glittering panorama of considered opinions ripened in smoke.” (page 171)
0 Comments
Forward>>

    Author

    running the whole length of the horizon...

    Archives

    August 2018
    July 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed