Noir Ending

 

The Big Combo

Here we go once again: better to start back at the beginning
Remember those days and nights filled with the glamour
When I locked our looks together I saw a door swing open
To reveal another door but not matter I was ready to stumble
Over the threshold with you on my shoulder a wonder
To marvel at vision shared doubled with intensity revelation
Of another more expansive world drenched in vivid colour
All the senses overloaded hyper stimulated the slightest
Glance of hand against the gold glimmering skin overwhelmed
Leading me to groan inside whenever I heard you gasp
Because I have always known how to ultimately disappoint
I learned over the years to savour the bitter fruits of betrayal
All the best movies have a noir ending when the credits roll
So this is us omega over and out amen: until the very next time

 

Transience

Anna Di Mezza-Transience 2017

The contemporary artist Anna Di Mezza, whose artwork I have featured several times,(Evolution, Questions & Answers with Anna Di Mezza and Double Take) has acknowledged in interviews her admiration for the Italian painter Giorgio De Chirico, whose ground-breaking Metaphysical paintings profoundly influenced the Surrealists. Anna’s latest works are firmly situated in this metaphysical tradition, where the primary focus is to raise questions regarding identity, reality and the creative process.

Transience also possesses elements of Anna’s characteristic Twilight Zone style sensibility. Toward the extreme right side  of the painting a portion of a glamorous female face can be seen taking shape, emerging into being. The darker stripe of paint that converges towards the pupil is suggestive of  a pencil. The eyebrow is also subject to this effect, though appropriately more reminiscent of a mascara wand. Looking at this painting I get the uncanny feeling that this is a preliminary sketch for an android; that the artist is showing this ersatz figure coming to life before our very eyes. However the reality of images is always fleeting and transitory, fading away when we stop looking, returning only as fragments that haunt our dreams.