View allAll Photos Tagged inspirationart
Il tuo nome è autunno...
oil on canvas, 60x50 cm
"Il giorno seguente"
The name - of it - is "Autumn" 656
acrylic/ oil on canvas, 40x50 cm
The Robin for the Crumb
Returns no syllable
But long records the Lady’s name
In Silver Chronicle.
poem 864 Emily Dickinson
'Tis not that Dying hurts us so —
'Tis Living — hurts us more —
But Dying — is a different way —
A kind behind the Door —
The Southern Custom — of the Bird —
That ere the Frosts are due —
Accepts a better Latitude —
We — are the Birds — that stay.
The Shiverers round Farmers' doors —
For whose reluctant Crumb —
We stipulate — till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.
oil on canvas, 50x60 cm; sold
poesia di Charles Baudelaire:
Amo, pallida bellezza, le tue sopracciglia abbassate,
Dove sembrano scorrere le tenebre,
I tuoi occhi, anche se neri, m'ispirano pensieri
Per niente funebri.
I tuoi occhi, che s'accordano coi tuoi capelli neri,
Con la tua capigliatura elastica,
I tuoi occhi, languidamente, mi dicono: "Se vuoi,
Amante della plastica musa,
Seguire la speranza che in te abbiamo eccitato,
E tutti i gusti che professi,
Potrai constatare la nostra voracità
Dall'ombelico alle natiche;
Troverai, su due bei seni pesanti,
Due larghe medaglie di bronzo,
E sotto un ventre liscio, dolce come velluto,
Bistrato come la pelle di un bonzo,
Un vello ricco che, davvero, è fratello
Di questa abbondante capigliatura,
Soffice e riccia, e che ti uguaglia in spessore,
Notte senza stelle, Notte oscura!"
acrylic/ oil on canvas; 40x50 cm;
poem by Julio Cortazar
I feel myself dying in you, overtaken by expanding
spaces, which feed on me just like hungry butterflies.
I close my eyes and I’m laid out in your memory, barely alive,
with my mouth wide open and the river of oblivion rising.
And you, patiently, with needle-nosed pliers, pul out
my teeth, my eyelashes, you strip
the clover from my voice, the shade from my desire,
you open up windows of space in my name
and blue holes in my chest
through which the summers rush out in mourning.
Transparent, sharpened, interwoven with air
I float in a drowse, and still
I say your name and wake you, anguished.
But you force yourself to forget me,
and I’m barely a bubble
reflecting you, which you’ll burst
with the blink of an eye.
1) Art Exhibition /2014/; “ Strassen Galerie “, Wiener Neustadt, Austria www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10201300079782916.18002...
2) Art Exhibition /2015/, “ Primavera Romana “, Flyer Art Gallery, Rome, Italy www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1827037254596.75957.180...
In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren't there to be found -
or at least I can't find them. And perhaps
it's better if I don't find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
/poem by Konstantinos P. Kavafis/
Poetry by Serena Vestene, Art by Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Immagini, Poesia & Magia, Artebo, Bologna
oil on canvas, 40x50 cm
1) Art exhibition /2011/; “Il gusto dell’ARTE”, Lovere, Italy;
www.facebook.com/193031898000785/photos/?tab=album&al...
2) youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva