Tag Archives: Drawing

Street In Agrigentum


There is still the wind that I remember
firing the manes of horses, racing,
slanting, across the plains,
the wind that stains and scours the sandstone,

and the heart of gloomy columns, telamons,
overthrown in the grass.
Spirit of the ancients, grey

with rancour, return on the wind,
breathe in that feather-light moss
that covers those giants, hurled down by heaven.

How alone in the space that’s still yours!
And greater, your pain, if you hear, once more,
the sound that moves, far off, towards the sea,
where Hesperus streaks the sky with morning:
the jew’s-harp vibrates
in the waggoner’s mouth
as he climbs the hill of moonlight, slow,
in the murmur of Saracen olive trees.

-Salvatore Quasimodo

Image by: John Howe






Art is a Verb, that needs to hear an echo


High Art, I believe you were mistaken in your deceit, of an occurrence bleeding symmetries upon a page. What is praised, is lost , if not gifted and given by an authentic gaze. You call them doodles, scratches against the wall, possibilities for perfection. I think you are to humble, I call them the most High. I say your Art was expressed in a form worth sharing as soon as it left your mind and trickled down to the patient hand that circles its emotive and creative nuances like storms, Great Storms, caught in the eye of some drifting falcon, allowing for errors and triumphs to pool together to invoke a feeling not just in yourself of alignments to steady your flight, but any who would choose to witness the same for themselves. To be so bold and put your Art out into the Great Storms of this world is much better than to cage it and allow to it settle, as many have and always well. Dying in some notebook, left in the dark corners of an attic, only to be revived in the eyes of a child sifting through the tattered remains trying to settle and see why the artist had to leave so soon in the ambulance, before being fully acknowledged for their impressions left upon this world, as we are forever indebted to the ongoing processions of the forgotten artists as they walk across this stage.

-Josh Fleming

Image by and poem inspired by: PMu ink, Echo


K.A.R.M.A: redefined








KARMA can be illustrated by in how the universal forces act upon one and other, although cause and effect can at times becomes blurred or change positions in time or space, just as observations of objective phenomenon can create a subjective return, from particle to wave, or wave to particle, how energy is being dispersed as it is being observed is a something of a paradox, not to be solved but experienced.

KARMA is the sum total of all subtle momentary interactions, both internal and external. As a first interposition or origin establishes a force of action, i.e., wether communicative, somatic, or visceral, wether its outcome is initially + or – cannot accurately foretell the variable spacings that can shift positions and designations and influence later events to come. 

KARMA is our interactions with ourselves and our world that is correlative, how we choose to echo are sentiments and character will shape the very fabric of existence itself, our stories are always interpolating and can cause a shift or reversal of polarity by in how we reciprocate or denigrate our acts towards ourselves and others. 

KARMA is when we allow ourselves to fully embrace any given moment and strive to be apart of its appearance and its process, we can better orient and navigate between the waves of life, as Life is not made by or propagated by finite series of momentous moments, but rather by an infinite variety of opposing and attracting variables, some small, some large, residing within each and all is the very real possibility to find a measure of peace, clarity and resolve.

KARMA  is when we choose to view Karma, not as a negative return on a positive nor a positive return on a negative, but as our innate ability to shape and contour ourselves and all that surrounds us in a more balanced fashion, we then can begin to inject our very being into the porous skin of existence, to have and to hold an awareness, a mindful and embodied stance towards any given waking moment and to actualize its existence as your own, to internalize your presence and externalize your actions in a manner conducive to success.

-Josh Fleming

Image by:  Christine Ödlund


“Evidence. : Disguised


[14:12] ..e45 (u-44) ..thousands of worlds apart, deconstructing the real, what happened in 74, .. what fell away, memories vanished, cut from the faculties of by which we apprehend, :::fucked up the transmission…, how beautiful, but who can remember, one world masks by another, to assemble itself, is to take apart the other, language can speak without ever saying a word, a depth-perception denied, circa: 2(3)74 ::: spatiotemporal axis apprehends the occipital, plasmatic manifesto, intoxicated by the confession, spontaneous information re-orders the syntax, historical regression, what does not perish persists, to be held in awe, in an infinite multitude, endless possibilities, to seek no further, to cherish this moment and behold its resurrection, to seek no further, enveloped in perfect stillness, a birds song anchors my belief and shatters my faith, never have I known, such love, a vital up welling centered upon its pivot , the transcendent abides within its abstraction, to feel its motion as your own, to seek no further, in this house is our home, in this kingdom that holds no master, nor servant, walking without distance, one cannot perceive its end, to seek no further-in this house-is our home.

-Josh Fleming

Inspired by: PKD Philip K. Dick, The Exegesis of Philip K Dick

Image by: Christine Odlund


Amused To Death: A Mindfulness Manifesto


Stop thinking, start being. Thoughts, they retract, refract and reframe awareness from what is happening of itself. Analysis supersedes the presence of purity, actions become tailored by convention, reality is re-presented and packaged, wrapped up in its ideals, over prescribed falsehoods. The identity of belief is shattered in a mirror of pure reflection. Faith is an act of letting go of what we thought we knew, to understand what is actually occurring. Evolution is waiting. The waves they froth and foam, crashing onto the shore, we try and gather, to navigate with false lights flickering beneath us, as above us they teach us a truth without ever saying a word. Stuck in patterns, locomotive movements, the way stations of our minds, always entertained, never informed. To regain some sense of ordered chaos, stop asking the questions, start listening to the answers.

-Josh Fleming

Image by: Ricardo Bessa, Mindfulness Manifesto