Showing posts with label joshua petker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joshua petker. Show all posts

Sunday, October 12, 2008

you are my sweetest downfall

keep art alive; art by joshua petker
samson (video) ~ regina spektor
samson ~ regina spektor

five minutes in and i feel the collision of desire and death; that cling to you sticky sense that it all leads to an ending of a beginning. all those tucked away reckless notions of self-destruction they peek their dyed heads out to whisper at you; fabricating the realm of fuckwits and faerie tales. want a piece of dark chocolate to go with your next beautiful mistep in judgement? tripping and falling with daisy chains wrapped about each ankle; you pull me along into a trance of indecision. die on the vine, and coerce my skin to wake up. again.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

marks & memory

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

alice ~ the sisters of mercy

marks & memory
(mine)

all the books on the shelf,
all of them were mine.
but she left her mark on each one,
each page,
each line that she highlighted in pink pen or
eyeliner.
her way of remembering,
of pronouncing importance and available logic.

these are the things she left behind:
markings between bent and dog-eared pages,
and the beading around the scars of my soul.

i am growing older now,
the weeds of time are choking my identity and luster.
i need to mow down the barriers that i built alone.

i guess i let her peer through the trellis walls.
once or twice or maybe a bit more.
she turned on the blinkers and turned right into me
well, i let her, didn't i?

and now i wonder if it was all just a ploy,
a way to get my attention and my coffee bean tree,
a way to step inside and mess things up,
then walk away.

regardless.

i have places to go,
these boxes to pack,
a train to catch and ride and forget on.

like i could ever forget her.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

looking away



keep art alive; art by joshua petker


“we grew still and stared at each other. it seemed incredibly dangerous to look into each other’s eyes, but we were doing it. for how long can you behold another person? before you have to think of yourself again, like dipping the brush back in for more ink. for a very long time; you didn’t need to get more ink, there was no reason to get anything else, because she was as good as me, she lived on earth like me, she suffered as i did. it was she who looked away and pulled the sheet to her chin.”


no one belongs here more than you ~ miranda july


special thanks to achtung baby for posting this amazing quote

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

keep art alive: joshua petker

keep art alive; art by joshua petker
the ten questions project: joshua petker

*1. what music (or other art form) inspires you when you create your art?

Most often I just listen to my ipod on shuffle. I like lots of different artists and somehow listening to them all at once is my most honest mood. Sometimes I even paint in silence.

*2. long distance road trip: what three people do you invite along (fictional or non-fictional, dead or alive)?

Hmmm...there are a lot of people both historical and fictional that I'd like to spend some time with but road trips are much more intensive than a quick dinner date. Willie Nelson, Marcel Proust, and Jackson Pollack. That would be a random group but Willie would smoke us out and sing road songs, Proust would go on and on and on telling intricate stories for days, and Pollack would be my art companion and ready to throw beers in our bellies and rocks at cars once the day was over and the bar doors opened.

*3. what is your favorite breakfast cereal?

I hate milk so I never eat cereal. Sorry. =(

*4. what is one thing that is hanging on your bedroom wall?

A picture of my oldest cat who sleeps in the very same room!

*5. what smell/scent evokes strong memories for you?

Clove cigarettes remind me of sneaking into Gothic dance clubs in SF when I was 14-15. They smelled so fancy and exclusive to me back then. Now, they remind me of when I was a dumb goth kid doing drugs at 14. Not a fan anymore.

*6. coffee or tea?

tea

*7. what has been the most impactful compliment, or criticism, you have ever received?

Because I try to be sensitive in my work I am most appreciative when females tell me I captured the inner feelings of a woman. I'm not sure my paintings can speak for every woman but I find that to be the most rewarding compliment.

*8. three words that describe you?

chaotic, sensitive, gemini

*9. cartoon character crush: who is, or was, yours?

Sleeping Beauty? But, to say i had a crush would be a big stretch...

*10. the world is ending in ten minutes and you get to listen to one, and only one, song: which song?

Sing Me To Sleep, by the Smiths

***

find out more about joshua at his website: joshua petker
and at his myspace

i would like to thank joshua for participating in the keep art alive: ten questions project, and for being inspirational to my writing.

go now go and check out more of her work, visit a gallery showing, and buy something if you can.
keep art alive and show your support.

Monday, January 14, 2008

a lyrical refrain

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

"i might lie a lot, but never in my lyrics." ~ courtney love

"even if you think the flame has died, there's at least one lyric that'll hit that last hot spot, and then you'll find yourself as fucked as you were the day you lied and said you never wanted to see her again." ~ john mayer

"who among us has not, in moments of ambition, dreamt of the miracle of a form of poetic prose, musical but without rhythm and rhyme, both supple and staccato enough to adapt itself to the lyrical movements of our souls." ~ charles baudelaire

lyrics are my language, and the emotion within song that bring out thoughts and feelings that sometimes are near impossible to articulate. i think i could carry on full conversations in lyrics and be happy with the expression that kind of interaction would bring. lyrics can shock me still, leave me breathless, throw me into a fit of tears, stop my heart, cause my head to spin, or make me burst and swirl in some kind of musical reverie. and, more often then not, they are words when i do not have any.

365 loves: lyrics

Friday, October 26, 2007

no hero in her sky

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

i am not sure when it began, or what started me believing that in love i had to give everything that i am in order to deserve to be loved back. not that i do not think that love should be about giving, but somewhere along the line there was a disconnect inside of me that transmitted this message that i was the one that needed to give, and give until i had nothing left, and that i should not expect to ever receive anything back. that love, for me, was about taking care of the other person's needs, wants, and desires; that if there did not exist this neverending list of needs to fulfill, and issues that needed my care and attention, that i was not needed, or i suppose deserving, of love.

for a girl who swore up and down that she would never be a mother i certainly spent even my formative years trying to mother the boys i chose to love. i look back at my past relationships and it is so glaringly obvious that i would come into their lives and slowly but surely become something they relied on, and unfortunately ended up taking for granted. i do believe it became such a part of who i am that it showed on my skin, on the way i put myself out into the world, and in the way i interracted because every consecutive relationship seemed to become more and more of this situation. bring me your wounded, your broken, your addicted, your mentally and emotionally unstable and i will put on my best nurses dress and break out all my glue sticks and transparent tape, and i will fix you.

what becomes of the nurse in this, though? what becomes of the mothering lover who later becomes an actual mother? and, what happens when she breaks? i have learned to run this race of being everything to the other person in a relationship that it has become a default, an auto-pilot setting, and as my dearest friend told me this morning it becomes part of the system. and, i know some of this goes back to never really feeling mothered myself, that i took on that role of caretaker even to my own mother before i even reached adolescence. somewhere along the way even the family i was born into weaved together expectation with love.

this is where it gets tricky, though, as i sit here trying to sift through my definitions of love; because honestly i think that giving is intrinsic and vital to love. i do not want to veer so far from who i have been that i do not still long to make another person happy, fulfilled, possibly better. but, all these untouched parts of me, all my own gaping holes of want and need, they are so neglected that now they are charging forward in some kind of emotional revolt. and, i do not know how to deal with them, i do not know how to manage anything that i want myself. all i seem to do is collapse a little bit more everytime anyone even reaches out a hand, or mentions the way things could be. the smallest things, the most simple acts of kindness, they bring me to tears.

there has to exist this combination in love. i know i have found it in friendship, and in that realm i seem to be able to accept it so much better. but with love, the idea of not being the one to give and give and give, to even think about allowing someone to give to me anything - even the things that seem small and trivial, it opens up this gulf of vulnerability deep inside. but, i want it. i want to be loved in the way i love, and i want to be able to embrace that in my life. i just wish i was not so scared of accepting it, of changing that part of me that blocks it so often, to learn to actually feel like i deserve to be loved - because deep down in those parts of me that i do not share often, and that i do not exactly understand - i do not believe i deserve love.


Friday, September 7, 2007

when there's something worth running for

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

'rest stop recollection'

there is nothing like a road trip to really define people, open them up, raw, exposed, you never really know someone until you've spent several sticky days in a car, cross-country.

the tape player broke in the first hour, not even out of los angeles and the tape unspooled, fell to the floor, so it was radio or nothing at all, she became shotgun d.j., blurring through the options that long highway stations ready up.

the other three sat in the back, their illusion of a romantic paved adventure slowly shredding and blowing out the half-cracked window, "i can't take another country song" she lamented, her t-shirt tied up to her chest, hair blowing, lips chapped, still beautiful.

we lived off convenience store entrees, potato chips, stale hot dog buns, slush-puppies. he bought her a pack of superhero trading cards, they pasted the wonder woman sticker on my back, sang the theme song, again and again, then started to chant -- back and forward -- all the james bond movies they could name.

fifty miles from new orleans i pulled over to the side of the road, that's where i threw it out, your engagement ring. i don't know why i chose that spot, it just felt right. he baptized the occasion with flat 7-up, on our heads. she was laughing. and my sidekick held my hand, she knew this was really something, more than a postcard could ever say.

getting there was anti-climatic, sure there were sho
wers, clean clothes, space between; but the little luxuries of a hotel room ,and food that didn't come in a sealed bag or styrofoam package, well, it just felt trite, contrived. we all let out individual sighs, at different times, all longed for the map and the a.m. station hell.

but, we didn't go back, not at once, not together. we all found different cobblestone paths to take. me, i went east, found a place in so-ho, got a new ring around my finger, chained again. he stayed put, found a boy to worship him, a humid bar to hang at, the air suited him just fine. she flew back home, after a week, he called her and she couldn't resist.

and, my radio controlled navigator? she hovered just a breath away from my lips, promising everything, nothing, and then blew away, away, poof.
(written by me)


when your mind's made up ~ glen hansard & marketa irglova

Saturday, August 4, 2007

indulging in my self-defeat

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

the summer song. you know the kind, it sticks to your skin like humidity, like melted ice cream dripping down your fingers, like a lip-gloss kiss. the song is typically catchy, pop-music candy; low on lyrical significance, but high on addictive melodies. the chorus is key. repetition and sing-a-long ease are the necessary ingredients, and a comfortable dose of simplicity.

the song needs to have cross-over potential, not just between musical genres, but generations, too. it needs to have the hip-factor, the mainstream appeal, and some other something that pushes the song to the top of the charts, and on the tip of everyone's tongue. oh, and it helps if the song appears on a summer movie soundtrack. the almost unavoidable fate of the summer song is of course the curse of the one-hit wonder; though it will have plenty of company, both in the inevitable vh-1 special, and in karaoke bar playlists, all around the world. and, while it rules it's summer reign, the song is definitely on fire.

steal my sunshine is one of those summer songs. let loose in the summer of 1998; the pop-punk band from toronto, len, lit the radio up and had everyone singing along. the song was featured in the movie go, one of my personal favorite summer films. the quirky dialogue, and almost non-sensical lyrics, just made the song more likeable, and near-impossible to forget.

what exactly is an impaired tribal lunar speak, anyway?

steal my sunshine ~ len