Often, a poem comes out fully-formed, fiddling and remixing only dulls the knife, sometimes however, variations are eager to come out to shine light in another corner: Lonely, Joyful, Melancholy, Mysterious.
In this case, (my) familiar themes of un-confidential love letters on postcards mailed from foreign places and glanced by – or maybe sadly not glanced – by personnel along the way who (may) add their pathos to the journey.
One version of this (do you care to guess which?) will go on the reverse of the post box at Farmer Mac’s goat farm – Perhaps another painting will follow… and then a postcard a photograph of the painting mailed to the post box and so on. Always be remixing.
No pardons for redundancies, variations on a theme require riffs on the same blues.
My postbox haiku painting in Shibuya as part of Okayama Design exhibit with Rural Caprine Farm
+ Provincial Poetry, Wine and Goats in Shibuya, Tokyo +
Very proud to see my haiku postbox painting supporting sempei Mac Kobayashi’s display. If you are in Tokyo area, please consider stopping by to dig it all and tell yer pals (and maybe i’ll send you a postcard print of it #hint).
* Session: Friday, September 18, 2020-Monday, November 30, 2020 * Time: 12: 00-20: 00 (Last Admission 19:30) / Closed on Wednesday * Place: d47 MUSEUM (03-6427-2301) 渋谷2-21-1 Shibuya-ku, Tokyo, Japan 150-8510 * Fee: Free admission + Advance application: Unnecessary
As part of Mac Kobayashi’s Rural Caprine Farm exhibit at “d Design Travel Okayama Exhibition” in Shibuya, Tokyo (right near the famous scramble intersection), visitors can see my painting “Postbox Haiku (blue)”.
Hope folks can see the display for inspiration to visit the goats (and see more of my paintings).
Details: 会 期 2020年9月18日（金） – 2020年11月30日（月） 時 間 12:00〜20:00（最終入館／Last Admission19:30）／水曜休 Closed on Wednesday 場 所 d47 MUSEUM（03-6427-2301） 料 金 入場無料／Free Admission 事前申込 不要 渋谷2-21-1 Shibuya-ku, Tokyo, Japan 150-8510
+ Tour the Farm (with Postbox and Paintings +
Take a tour of Rural Caprine Farm in Okayama in this video by d design travel 編集部 / starting at 5:34. See the “actual postbox” which goes with the painting of the postbox (which came first?) and hear Mac Kobayashi’s friendly voice at my favourite place.
The exhibit book is really nice and my postbox appears 4 times! You can purchase the catalog at Mac’s farm or by emailing dDesign folks (note to self: add email address here).
History: The painting was “just the postbox”, then i found a matching mailbox and installed at the farm, wrote the haiku onto the postbox, and then added to the painting to complete the meta circle. oh then made postcard prints and a book and mailed to the postbox…
haiku on a postbox, and a painting of a postbox with a haiku / which came first?
the original is unfaithful to the translation.
Today – a Letter! Written as you ate a peach In last weekend’s SUN
My renegade pal Sooby (Sohaib) Ahmed is a fine poet in the “romantic” tradition (think Shelley, Keats et al) and often sends along his work for my edification. This one came along just before Ichiro came along so sharing here for the record.
Though S. and i enjoyed wild adventures together in NYC/state, Providence and other environs, our most ridiculous times came the summer 1991 with dozens of Grateful Dead (and related) shows, music festivals, psychedelic parks, and the infamous Taos hi-jack incident.
Despite all of these hi-jinks, i don’t have a handy snapshot of him so instead a flyleaf of a book i mailed to him from Sri Lanka included as inadequate visual addition.
~~
I wish there were that us There were, there were Like we only did make Like snowflake make So too could and have when It snow so like that, And it was, it has So its, such as, only such as In that way, I’d had Only and as we melt I’ll ask, I wish And, a way Its all the less cold then there Would be getting a wish Being it so selfish The snowflake we chance can be Should I but be so Brave and have Wouldn’t suiting our imagination Say can us both but be Suited also, for it, I wish, its a wish for yourself So its, such as, only such Only and as we melt I’ll ask, I wish And a way Of it, if it, That too heartfelt a what, What a heart-felt for always.
(excerpt of poem – written by me – read at Kemp and Sheila’s wedding vow ceremony)
really unrelated snap, as it goes a tea shack in Sri Lanka
Now, all is deliciously possible A present to savour A history to grow A future to whittle To any possible shape
So, How shall we fill this vessel?
Devoid of cynicism and ego, Jealousy or restraint With rambunctious affection In all possible forms To manifest and articulate Unabashed tactile Love.
Shall we fill with endless notes Of spontaneous jazz and Distant gazes from close range? Slow dances to quick songs Languid mornings following Smouldering nights?
Celebration of the commonplace? Anticipation of usual happenstance? Easy banter about nuanced topics? On verandahs and gazebos a like Replete with warm drinks And cool touch?
With fond hellos and Infrequent goodbyes As we seek nowhere to go Desire no escape In darkness and rain All yearnings were sent away
Marrow and soul Now have a purpose, a place A place to dwell With you, always As together we fill This vessel Full.
– daveo, Pokhara, Nepal 2017 (photo: Sri Lanka, 2018)
My painting of a haiku on a postbox is representing Okayama design and culture at an exhibit in Shibuya (Tokyo), ergo:
Detail of the exhibit catalog and the stand ( No. 14) for Rural Caprine Farm & Market
My *post box painting* is featured in the physical exhibit in Shibuya, while the *painted post box* is featured no less than three times in the magazine, including on one of the introduction pages.
Note: The painting and the post box feature a traditional 5-7-5 syllable Japanese haiku poem in English. Deposit box accepts usual mail daily.
I share space with the remarkable Ohara museum filled with post/impressionist art, a coffee roaster housed in the 90-year-old former post office, a couple of brothers bringing youthful energy into the historic denim industry in the Bikan area of Kurashiki, swordsmith, fibre weavers and so on. Plus unique regional restaurants from Setouchi to Hiruzen to add to wishlist.(The magazine features most text in translation to English for your convenience.)
Additionally,.. t he catalog for the dDesign Travel exhibition sharing unique design and culture from my home Prefecture was released in glorious four-color bleed, mixed-paper goodness.
Features so many interesting artists, museums, artisan businesses & unique accommodations (& curious stats about school uniform + riffs about Momotaro legend) plus, you can do a “stamp rally” meaning collect a stamp from each of the locations featured on the map.
Sponsors include my beloved Uno Bus & Ryobi Group.
Hoping to share more of my poetic postal paintings with these institutions & more. Ideas for collaboration or exhibits? Let’s talk. My thanks to Sempei Mac Kobayashi (in the magazine wearing a black sabbath T-shirt ;)) at the 4th generation Rural Caprine Farm for this chance to contribute to local culture/economy (and, really, life in general).
Really, do you go visit this pleasant hangout (let me know if you have any questions) where you can see more of my paintings amongst other delightful foods and goats.
Grateful to be part of HERE. Let’s enjoy.
Me and the exhibit magazine/map/catalog at Rural Caprine Farm
Artifacts from the Okayama design and travel exhibition in Shibuya featuring Mac Kobayashi’s magical goat farm & my postbox haiku / painting.
In this case: first snapshots (by the farmer himself) of the exhibit’s catalog (or is it a “mook = magazine/book?) with pictures of the aforementioned farmer (shockingly) wearing a black sabbath rather than usual Grateful Dead T-shirt.
Nevertheless, the haiku post box looks splendid and, I am working on the right words for the opposite side. Stay aware.
Photos by Mac the goat farmer.
Update: now have the words for the other side of the post box… follow along for amusement
On my birthday August 16, 2017, I found myself in Provo, Utah sleeping in yet another bed in which someone died.
I try to forget about the day and it’s entirety, fiddled with assembling chapbooks as gifts, stamping inky thumbprints on them and giving them to folks who i pretend were pleased, and reading poems by Richard Brautigan.
Then the potter Marty Kendall and I went to see the grave of our dear pal Rod Howard Ash who passed away shortly before at an untimely age. I brought him a poem on vintage hotel letterhead written when I heard about his death wow meandering seas between the Suez. Somewhere in Aqaba or Olympia. (note: inspired a cycle of the “Items: Forgotten” series called “Time Traveller“).
This marker was a temporary one, apparently is changed now. I think about this kind man all the time, so much style so much cool. Ugh.
Worth noting a few months before, during memorial day weekend, we threw a party called “creepers and chums” as a tribute to him and my mother who well, also died.
Memento: India scrapbook page & poem (RIP Mom), 2016
I was in India when my dear Mother died, I rushed back via various flights to join with my brothers and friends.
It was (still is) all a blur, so many details missed up through it all, though as is my custom, I assembled oddities in a scrapbook and made annotations along the way.
As such, evidence, including: a boarding pass for the worst flight ever; a list of tasks to complete rapidly to leave Joy guesthouse in Auroville by taxi to Chennai airport; and a poem which I can’t at this moment remember who wrote/gave to me. Was it you?
Just shapeshifting various identities like a global dude of clandestine intrigue and espionage of happenstance / 2001
#PossiblyWorldsWorstSpy
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sunday providence grey like last week with my bargain matinee cough syrup nod candy coated hold onto my thick head next wave goes to mars next even further watch the clothes spin in their fluff and dried nebulae
i’ve tried it all on bended knees but i’ll just think here and sit about lost months and misplaced friends haggard days and ice cream cones
i’ll stand here holding nothing try to think how i got here then figure where i am
i’ll stand a shady place counting nickels
and happenstance empty out my pockets on the ground you can’t trade lint for bread and cheese
“it’s cloudier now than its been for years”
(to no one in particular)
i’ve spent days moving quickly years dreaming loosely and hours watching patiently and weeks muddling and fidgeting
for the moment that is now elsewhere and sometime long before
