Ausgewählte Werke - Seite 2

Julies Dream
1974, 90 x 90 cm
Collection of Leonard Holzer, New York
 
Imagine a whipped cream venus with a nuclear powered heart and blood of sunfire in her blue veins. Imagine her eyes two Gilette laser blades mainlined straight from the silver footed Queen Selena's astral plane. Imagine the nuclear explosions within her increasing in rapid mathematical progressions squared. The flame's pressure causes her blue veinends to emit a radiation that activates her nerve impulses to maximum capacity, muscles arched ready to pounce on everything that moves (her)

Julie Awake
1974, 90 x 90 cm
Collection of Leonard Holzer, New York
 
In a relatively short span of life, Julie Robinson, a dazzling sand-dozed sweet and acid-surfer queen, glides from the shores of Laguna Montezuma through the Arica centers*) of the inner voids, entering wombs of pleasure ripples and rayonating silver light waves upon theatrical sets and movie screens**) on her cyclic path of forever now now now until one final night she lays her inner fire to rest on a bed of ashes, and cremates her carnal cage of cream and the rest of the house with it. (Yes, she was a non-smoker.) Some folks can dream of fire that comes to life before they do. Spontaneous combustion. May her flame rest in peace.
*) Oscar lchaz'´s cult 'Arica'
**)She played in a film with Jack Nicholson, "The King of Marvin Gardens", directed by Bob Raffelson

Tachyon
1974, 90 x 90 cm
Collection of Miriam Gibril, Los Angeles
 
Sheba is a hermaphroditic tramp, an orphaned orgasm, a psychic fortune cookie. She is her own parents looking for their lost royal daughter. Sheba will resurrect out of her own cigarette ashes the day she realizes that she is nothing but a tachyon particle, travelling faster than light, like everybody else. Sheba was an egyptian queen in Kenneth Anger's Lucifer Rising with her ten year long partner Donald Cammell (director of Performance). Sheba's of ethiopian descent, abandoned by her mother she grew up in an orphanage, escaped to the streets of Paris and survived by gesticulating, provoking aggression and caressing, licking, kissing and penetrating, laughing, hustling, trading and illuminating. Her sexuality was as wide as her soul was deep. A polymorphous perverse, she could spend days making love to a bicycle then crawl into your matrimonial bed and give a hundred orgasm to your wife while you watch Dallas on TV. Then run away with you to Tunisia and stop sex altogether. Why I put Robert Smithon's Spirale Jetty in her painting is still a mystery. Maybe because the analogy to the meaning of Sheba's life. The last time I saw Sheba she was married to a woman in California.

Eleonore Ananda
1975, 80 x 80 cm
Collection of Baron von Kerkerink, New York State
 
In august 1975 we went on a 7 day hindu pilgrimage of 13000 Shiva freaks climbing our way up the himalayas on a narrow trail on horseback, like ants in a trance, to go touch lord Shiva's penis, a giant priapic ice stalagmite that grows to maximum size on august's full moon inside a giant cave with a square entrance hewn by titans. Twenty pilgrims died on our pilgrimage. One of them was a brahmin lady behind us on an old white horse who suddenly stumbled and slipped, disappearing with his screaming lady rider in fluttering red sari down what seemed a bottomless canyon because the final thud was not audible. My 12 year old daughter looked at me with blank expression and said: "Please don't tell mummy about this, OK?" This painting of Ma Ananda Moji, a wandering indian saint, was done as a magic protection for my daughter a month before the pilgrimage.

Godmother
1975, 80 x 80 cm
Collection of Zwar, Paris
 
This pleasure Queen from Casablanca was one of Jimi Hendrix's muses. She came to visit me in Jamaica during one of my pregnancies. We got very high on local plants and I named her the God mother of my future child, the next day she stole my car and was never seen again.

Devine
1983
 
What if a micro-organism was introduced into our atmosphere by mistake with the return of the next Mars probe? And that this alien creature specialised in devouring all kinds of oils thus destroying all paintings on its voracious meanderings upon this planet transforming our museum masterpieces into little heaps of grey dust. Will this dust also be considered great art? … We have to keep on painting furiously no matter what they say, lest we go blind one and all. Photography cannot replace it, just like TV cannot replace cinema and cinema cannot replace theatre. Every media has a different texture, and texture is all there is. In other words: paper cannot replace linen and linen cannot replace glass and glass cannot replace wood and wood cannot replace light but light can replace everything. Turn it off and see for yourself...

Demeter
1986
 
This is my land from here to there
And up to where I truly care
The rest can burn or turn to rot.
The care is mine and yours is not.
I am my mountain I am my house
I am the river that floods my garden
with tears and blood
I am the globe I am the you
I am the you
I am the you
that you are not

First Encounter
1988
 
Us being white, they thought we were spirits of their enemy tribe whom they killed in battle recently and dumped into the river, returning to collect our whitened bones to bury them, but we were looking for gold; For more and more little grains of gold from the river's bed. "Where is the gold?" we would scream at them shooting one of their little pigs in display of power and rage.
"Gold! God damn it, gold!" "Don't you know gold!?" We pointed to the sun to indicate the colour of gold. But no, they obviously did not know what gold was. The men then thought we were gods that came from the sun. But the girls knew better, they had opened their legs and tried 67. And they disappeared into the jungle leaving peals of laughter ringing within our ears.

Leonor Scherrer: Beauty is a prison
1990
 
The two Parisian amazons took my mountain by storm: "Paint my girl", commanded the mother, "and eternalise her beauty". She stood at my doorstep with her daughter who was dazzling me with her ivory nudity surrounded by the blinding flashes of their stainless steel sabers. Angels looked like garbage next to them. - "For what purpose?" I asked. - "To make others wish to be like her - was her answer - forever!". - "But a flower blooms only for one day!". - "A picture of a flower does not! I'm not asking you to liberate my soul, I'm paying you to captivate the world in order to enlarge the number of the prisoners of beauty so that my daughter will not feel so lonely in her cage of ideals". When the painting was finished - even though paintings never are - the daughter took one glance at it, and unsheathing her sword, shouted: "Where is everybody? Where is Venus and Napoleon? Cleopatra and James Brown? Garbo and Brando? Khalo and Dali? Madonna and all the black rappers from Babylon?? You didn't obey my mother's orders! You didn't include the entire universe within my private Valhalla! Therefore I shall exclude you from it forever!", and with a single samurai slash she lobbed off my head which has been rolling downhill ever since, shouting: "The only prison bigger than the universe is the mind!"

Villa des Mysteres
1990
bisher unveröffentlichtes Werk