Thinking about all of the correlations between these three things. Here are some lyrics from a Daniel Johnston song:
Is still
On my wall
On my wall
The colors are bright
Bright as ever
The red is strong
The blue is true
Some things last a long time
Some things last a long time
Your picture
Is still
On my wall
On my wall
I think
About you
Often
Often
I can’t forget all the things we did
Some things last a long time
Some things last a long time
It’s funny
But it’s true
And it’s true
But it’s not funny
Time comes and goes
All the while
I still think of you
Some things last a long time
Your picture
Is still
On my wall
On my wall
The colors
Are bright
Bright
As ever
Things that we did
All we forget
Some things last a life time
Some things last a life time
Listen up and I’ll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren’t so bold
Everyone, and friends and family
Saying, “Hey! Get a job!”
“Why do you only do that only?
Why are you so odd?
We don’t really like what you do.
We don’t think anyone ever will.
It’s a problem that you have,
And this problem’s made you ill.”
Listen up and I’ll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren’t so bold
The artist walks alone
Someone says behind his back,
“He’s got his gall to call himself that!
He doesn’t even know where he’s at!”
The artist walks among the flowers
Appreciating the sun
He does this all his waking hours
But is it really so wrong?
They sit in front of their TV
Saying, “Hey! This is fun!”
And they laugh at the artist
Saying, “He doesn’t know how to have fun.”
The best things in life are truly free
Singing birds and laughing bees
“You’ve got me wrong”, says he.
“The sun don’t shine in your TV”
Listen up and I’ll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren’t so bold
Everyone, and friends and family
Saying, “Hey! Get a job!”
“Why do you only do that only?
Why are you so odd?
We don’t really like what you do.
We don’t think anyone ever will.
It’s a problem that you have,
And this problem’s made you ill.”
Listen up and I’ll tell a story
About an artist growing old.
Some would try for fame and glory
Others just like to watch the world.
Also Daniel Jonhnston lyrics. Then if you look at poetry:
Poem by Robert Creeley:
A Song
I had wanted a quiet testament
and I had wanted, among other things,
a song.
That was to be
of a like monotony.
(A grace
Simply. Very very quiet.
A murmur of some lost
thrush, though I have never seen one.
Which was you then. Sitting
and so, at peace, so very much now this same quiet.
A song.
And of you the sign now, surely, of a gross
perpetuity
(which is not reluctant, or if it is,
it is no longer important.
A song.
Which one sings, if he sings it,
with care.
Another poem by him:
Four Days In Vermont
Window’s tree trunk’s predominant face
a single eye-leveled hole where limb’s torn off
another larger contorts to swell growing in around
imploding wound beside a clutch of thin twigs
hold to one two three four five six dry twisted
yellowish brown leaves flat against the other
gray trees in back stick upright then the glimpse
of lighter still grayish sky behind the close
welted solid large trunk with clumps of gray-green
lichen seen in boxed glass squared window back
of two shaded lamps on brown chiffonier between
two beds echo in mirror on far wall of small room.
I’m trying to think of writing and poetry alongside visual elements in the prints that I’m working on. My parents are both writers, and I thought I was one for a while, but it’s just another art form, which I’m hoping I can successfully combine with printed imagery.
