''I WISH I WAS A TRANSFORMER''

                         FOR SALE

 

''I WISH I WAS A TRANSFORMER''

Main Material;
Coil built Ball Clay, Electric High Fired.
Clay is from Borneo. Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.
Added Materials;
Nylon Rope, Plastic Toys, Child's School bag, Keys,
Safety Pins, Leather, Concrete and Poly-resin.
Size;
5 feet 9 inches High. {1.80m.} including base.
Finish;
24k Pearl Gold and Acrylic Paint.
Edition;
One Off ... No Copies Made.
Original Artists Proof .
Year;
2010-11.

This work is sold as the original Artists Proof.

A Certificate of Proof will be provided and signed by the Artist.

Copyright remains with the Artist.

If you are interested in purchasing this work for your collection

please contact me at ..

deedaf@gmail.com

My Thoughts Behind The Work ...

''The making of my art is a solitude endeavour between me and my material on one hand and me and the subconscious mind on the other and to bring the balance into a reality. I like to think that the work reflects my values with the interaction of my human emotions but also breaking away from conventions and that for me is very much a self discovery.''

              There are many ways if interpreting any work of art .. 
it's what gives the viewer a sense of confidence in 'reading' the artist's meanings or intentions in the work and therefore some works are left without the 'story' but in this case I would like give the 'true' meanings to the symbols in my sculpture so as the viewer can have a deeper insight into 
my thoughts behind the work.

I find that working with clay is both liberating, as to the freedom the material gives me to experiment and daunting, as to the challenge for realism in the work as to how far can I go to bring a 'life-of-it's-own' to the sculpture and in this sculpture,
''I Wish I Was A Transformer'' I am being symbolic in the emotions of Fear, Pride and Thought. Fear as in 'the loss', Pride as in 'being different' and Thought as in 'the ego'.
This life size figure in clay, 5 feet 9 inches is in one piece and this is the second life-size figure I have made without hands. The other work is titled 'UNCLE' and can also be seen in this blog.
If this sculpture had arms and hands I feel the narrative is not as strong and there would be from the viewer different emotions because in my work I depend on the viewer's emotions to have a connection and a sudden change on seeing the sculpture at
first hand without the 'story'. 

Fear: the loss ..

As an artist a fear that lives with me is losing my hands or the use of them for my art .. my life would stop. I cannot be the artist let alone do the things I take for granted and so this sculpture was to be without hands, this was not planned but happened, as is the same for the whole of the work, from the subconscious. It was this 'Fear' that was entering into the work along with the overall stance of the figure that sends out the message to the viewer ...
''see me as I am.''

Pride: being different ..

The narrative in this work speaks for itself as in the stance, the tilt of the head the curve of the body as if levitating and in trying to cut free from his bonds. I only saw this sculpture from the early stages finished as it is, all in 24k gold paint but for the shoes, one black and one white as with the butterfly, symbolic of movement and transformation but here the ropes is the contradiction, they are symbolic if being trapped physically, no longer can have the freedom of movement and the pain mentally, but only in the freedom of the mind to dream and live in the memories and this in itself is also a contradiction. For me as the artist I am trying in a visual context to express a 'body and soul' connection we all have, or it's assumed we have. The body from birth, the soul for eternity that lives on as a separable existence from the body,
the seat of our emotions.
As for the 'dummy' in the mouth, that's his comfort in consoling his feelings but it is also a regression in the physical into a childhood long lost. The schoolbag on his back is my symbol for his 'monkey-on-the-back' ... his past pain, the rope, his past happiness, the toys and he carries the memories around with him and for all to see, it will never leave him because he keeps them alive. The elephants in the centre of his chest shows a harmony and unity of the strength in his heart and that he has a superhero's strength but for me in using the elephants and the schoolbag as the symbols for these emotions of hope and past pain is showing that we as human beings have a positive and a negative side to us, in other words, living in the expectation that the future is going to be better but our past keeps coming into our memories and stops us from living in the present time which  comes back to the ego being alive and well in all
situations of our life.

Thought: the ego ..

In this work, the fish, the teddy bear, the schoolbag, the toys and the keys are all symbolic of past memories lived and a future that lives only in the mind are all derived from thought ... the ego that will not let go, and in this I am showing the ego needs all of these things to feel it's own importance to survive and at the same time to keep us in the ego. When you look at the sculpture you could be asking yourself ... 'how come, or, how did the fish and the teddy bear got under his arms?' ...
With this work I am visually showing the ego in action as to how we hold on to everything in our lives even if we had no hands, from the material to the mental thoughts that began in our childhood, 'the teddy-bear' and will swim with us,
'the fish' through our journey in life.
As for the different types and sizes of keys to his back and on the ground ... hidden and out of reach ... well, in this symbolic way I am showing you the viewer that we have the 'keys' to all our own answers and destiny, nobody else can live your life but you ... it's only a matter of looking around with an open heart and mind and finding the right 'key' to open the door to your destiny and walking through, no matter what the circumstances are or what it may bring into your life. We all have 'keys' and it's up to us if we want to open that door for the situations that move us on in life and hence the title of the work, 
it's a cry out for change, a transformation of body and soul ... 

''I Wish I Was A Transformer''

http://youtu.be/bqrzYn1Qa5w






''I WISH I WAS A TRANSFORMER'' by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

KAYAN PENGHULU

FOR SALE



KAYAN PENGHULU {HEADMAN}

Main Material;  Slab-built Ball Clay Electric High Fired.

                                      Clay is from Borneo.
Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.

Added Materials;  Glasses.

Size;  Life Size.  17.5 inches High. { 444.5 mm }

Finish;  Wax Dye, Acrylic Paint.

Edition;  One Off ... No Copies Made.
                   Original Artists Proof 

Year; 2008

This work is sold as the original Artists Proof.
A Certificate of Proof  will be provided and signed by the Artist.
Copyright remains with the Artist.
If you are interested in purchasing this work for your collection
please contact me at ..
deedaf@gmail.com

KAYAN PENGHULU

This sculpture in Ball Clay and hand built is taken from an old photograph, is of a Headman also known as Penghulu of the Kayan people located in the Upper Baram and in one of the most interesting parts of Sarawak, Borneo now called East Malaysia. The Kayan people can be found midway on the Baram River and also on the upper Rajang River and parts of the lower Tubau River.

The traditional way of life is still evident but many of the longhouses, even in remote areas are quite modern now. It is said that the origin of the Kayan people is from the Apau Kayan area in Kalimantan, Indonesia hence their name. The Kayan people are categorized as a part of the Dayak people of Borneo and the population may be some 15,000 today in Sarawak but part of a larger grouping of people referred to collectively as the Orang Ulu, or 'upriver people'. They are known for as being fierce warriors and former headhunters back in the days when headhunting was all part of the survival and culture in Borneo but also for their farming skills and what is known as shift cultivation, in growing padi [rice] also adept in dry-land rice growing and the cultivation of sago. When clearing virgin jungle they established the right of ownership over that piece of land. It is believed that the original Kayan more than likely moved into Sarawak due to the exhaustion of their lands in Kalimantan.

Kayans can have extensive tattoos on their body and stretched earlobes can be found amongst male and female but today the younger generation of Kayans seldom pratice this. Kayan women tattoo their hands and legs and is considered feminine to do so. This tattooing was carried out when the girl is between ten to twelve years old. The earlobes in both men and women were perforated at an early age and brass and other types of material, including boars tusk for the men as in my sculpture, were inserted in order to extend them. For the Kayan People as for all indigenous people throughout the world the practice is a way of beautification.

The Kayan society has a class system, with class endogamy being marked among the aristocrats, however class distinctions have become less pronounced since the late 20th century but is still respected today amongst the Kayan people. Formerly, the Kayan were in frequent conflict with the Iban and other Dayak groups over land rights and general control though the Iban are the biggest indigenous group survival and respect within the community is all important. In the past, the Kayan practiced an elaborate traditional religion with numerous spirits and such ritual institutions as shamanism and augury. Most Kayan in both Indonesia and Malaysia are now Christian,  though personally I would like to think some would have held on to their pagan customs.

The Kayans are well known for their boat making skills which are carved out from a single tree trunk which is treated by fire to remove the sap. Their skills in metal work are also highly regarded but today like most of the indigenous people if the opportunity comes for education they can move into all skills and professions.

http://youtu.be/iAGhLDXdAg4

.

KAYAN PENGHULU by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.

Based on a work at http://www.deedaf.blogspot.com/

CONTAGIOUS

FOR SALE




''CONTAGIOUS''

Material;  Slab-built Ball Clay Electric High Fired.  

                               Clay is from Borneo.

Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.

Size;  Life Size.

Finish;  Wax Dye, Acrylic Paint and 24k Pearl Gold.

Edition;  One Off ... No Copies Made

                   {Original Artists Proof }

Year;  2009.

A 'Certificate of Proof' will be provided and signed by the Artist.

Copyright remains with the Artist.

If you are interested in this work for your collection please contact me at ....

deedaf@gmail.com

The thinking behind the work

This work is dealing with 'Good' and 'Bad' in a way as we as human beings classify emotions and events in our lives. If you think about the title of the sculpture 'Contagious' then you as the viewer will bring thoughts up in your own mind as to what you would term 'Good' or 'Bad' ... for both can be contagious.

The world is as it is but the imprint we leave behind helps to make the world as it is  ... everything in it is contagious.

''Contagious''

View rhe Video ....
http://youtu.be/p9mILMutzZw

CONTAGIOUS by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.
Based on a work at www,deedaf.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.blogger.com/www.deedaf.blogspot.com.

THE STORYTELLER and A DARKER SIDE TO DAZZLE

                                        

   THIS IS A TRUE STORY,

   except for the parts that are not.

        ''Razzle-Frazzle-Dazzle I have a story forrr .... Basil,''... announces the old storyteller looking around the small room full of children and the not-so-young-children. It was Basil's birthday today and Basil was more than pleased with himself that the very well known old storyteller from distant parts could pick him out in the sea of faces .. just like magic.

The storyteller now had the attention of all in the small dimly lit room and his rhythmic voice could be heard above the settling-down hum. This was in the time before we knew what was possible what we could do in the future and before man walked on the very moon above. This was the time when stories were spoken and the storyteller, for it was all in his head, was the very 'living-breathing-walking-talking-book'.

The storyteller, settling himself into his chair in front of his small audience was now looking out to some distant far-away place above the sea of heads where his mind body and soul will transport him like a time machine to the extent that he himself becomes involved into the reality of the story he is about to tell .. for this was the way of 'the storyteller' ... 

and so he begins ....

                       ''Everybody gets asked on meeting somebody for the first time as to where they come from or where they were born. It's human nature, they just want to know, you can't stop nature I always say. People are curious but others will say, a general 'busy body', or a need-to-know the info for some reason or other but most don't care as to where you were born but just want to know for that reason only, and when told most will forget what they were told in days or even hours after they got their information. This has always been the way and I for one don't see it changing in the time that's left to me but I am always curious as to why ... well I suppose it can be asked to gain more information as I have said or a time-stretching ploy in a conversation. In foreign countries, far away from our own little island here and being asked for the most 'vital information' .. ah, here it comes now ... wait for it ... 'Place of Birth', ah you cannot hide from it, that's what it is saying, you understand me now ... and way back before this time we are in now it was already asked for, the most 'vital information'. Everyone is born somewhere, but some people don't like to tell where they were born or where they come from. Maybe they are embarrassed of where they were born or maybe just plain do not want to tell you and give some other place of birth ... somewhere maybe far off and more exotic, and when the person is told .. they are happy, everything is O.K., in fact you could say ... 'hunky-dory' between them. Everything is running it's natural and normal course between two human beings but it would be a very different story all together if you were to answer, something like this;

     ''I am not telling you'' ...

                   or  

     ''None of your business'' ...

The outcome of that type of answer would make life and future communication very difficult for both parties to move on in a normal fashion, a divide has opened up and more to the point, anger and even resentment comes into it. As for me when I am asked I have no problem at all in telling people where I was born ..... everybody smiles when I tell them, people are like that ... and yes, I do get a lot of questions then and some funny remarks too, but it's O.K. with me. I for one don't mind in one least bit when I am asked 'where you come from?' ... well that went on a bit longer than expected, no matter for it's all part of the story. I will tell you now the answer I usually give them.''

By now everybody in the room was giving their full attention. They did not want to miss a single word what the storyteller was going to say. They will hear it once and maybe only once in their lifetime and if they were lucky enough to hear the same story again, it would not be told in the same way, no matter how many times the story would be told and retold. It is for sure, as night follows day the same story will always be different ... the same story ... 
and 'the storyteller' continues .....

                   
                    ''I was born in a small town on the coast of a a small island set on the edge of the Atlantic sea called Dazzle. Nobody really knows how it got it's name because in a way it's a 'dull' place at the best of times, more 'dull' now because most of the young people have gone to the brighter lights of far away places across other seas not many young couples move in here to start a family life. The long winter months are gray overcast, like a fog that never wants to move on, just hanging about like the bad odour of feet but the one place of interest in Dazzle is the local cemetery set on a very steep hill. Now everybody ends up in a cemetery at least once in their lifetime above ground amd then below ground     and then cannot leave till the final day of judgement when there will be a mad rush for all to get out. Dazzles cemetery was the highest patch of ground above sea level and looking out to sea .. I called it, the 'dead-watch'. Anybody out at sea can see the outline of the stones in the cemetery even when the 'grayness' was hanging over the small village and I tell you this as air breaths out of my mouth that one of the local stories as to why Dazzle got it's name is that when sailors were out at sea they could see the white headstones on the hill in the cemetery, but it's only folklore because at that time there was no such place for the departed, no cemetery, and no stones. Very few people, even in this day know or have heard of Dazzle and the ones who have heard of Dazzle, it's because of it's 'dark past', that is one of many stories about Dazzle and it's name but I will tell you that one another time in more detail .... there is always time for a story but this is the very 'real McCoy' story about Dazzle I am about to tell you all now and you might only hear it being told once, for it is not written down.''

Now everybody knew they were going to hear a 'real story' of some adventure they never heard of before,  even the very young ones in the room could sense it. The storyteller crosses his arm's and sweeps the room with his deep sea blue hypnotic eye's and in this dim light you could see the deep blue, just like the sea they could hear in the distance eating away at the coast line of the small island that could disappear in their own life time. Everybody is watching, watching 'the storyteller', some with their mouth's open and eyes like plates in anticipation of the 'real McCoy story' to be told. The storyteller lift's his left leg over his right leg with both of his hands, slowly and leans very far back in his chair that they were waiting for it to topple him to the floor. He looks to the ceiling above their heads holding his gaze fixed to that space that even those in that small room looked in that same direction too, some with effort and straining their necks and bodies to that 'spot' in the ceiling. Maybe the very words of the story were written on the ceiling and if so, well, they were only for his eye's. He pulls his shoulders in as a cold chill went up his spine, his hypnotic sea blue eye's still fixed to the 'spot' and letting out a deep sigh for it could be heard at the back of the room, you felt like 'sighing' too with him. He begins the rhythm of the words that now sound more like a chant and could brake into song at any given time ...

                        
                 ''It was September 1588 and the storm was at it's height blowing cold winds and angry waves so high that if you were out at sea you could not see the rugged coastline. Now these were very experience sea-going farers, most not happy men on dry land at the best of times but this storm was the worst they had ever had the experienced of and knew in their hearts of hearts that if they were to survive this they will have some tale to tell when they got back to port but it would need more than a miracle or a boat load of saints to come out of this storm. Their prayers were not going to be answered,   not this day and not in this time. They knew their galleon was been pulled into the coastline but what they did not know was what was waiting for them if they did manage to swim to the shore. No warning was given, no alarms cried out. The two sailors who were in the crows nest were thrown out of the 'nest' just like the way the bold cuckoo makes room for her eggs in another of natures unsuspecting nest. They had no chance of survival in the fall let alone cry out the most vital and all important warning to all on board of the stricken galleon. What with the force of the wind and the sail cloth flapping around like flags on national day trying to out-do each other in maneuvers and noise, it was Hell ... and the end of the world as they knew it. They had no chance. They were in the storm that was to go into history as the storm that Satan himself made and God ignored. The Spanish galleon, violently being thrown around like a cork in water was itself giving up the fight against the 'Diablo'. It was hopeless. They were being pulled into the eye of the storm. Around and around like a leaf into an ever expanding whirlpool, pulling all into it's centre never to see the light of day again, and maybe, just maybe, it was a whirlpool created by God himself to put the fires of Hell out and drown the devil him-very-self.''

'The storyteller' claps his hands together like thunder that all jumped in the room, even the not-so-young, and pauses for the effect to make the impact and everybody gives out a nervous laughter ... and continues with a twisted expression on his face that all sitting in the room thought he was very angry ...

                  
                      ''By now most of the Spanish ships, broken and not-so-proud were slowly making their way down the coastline, but to no avail, most were wrecked on the rocky coastline off the small island, from the north tip to the south end. There were several galleons, but most of the ships were merchantmen, which had been converted to do battle and were now leaking heavily, with most of their anchors missing and with half crews not lost yet to the storm but most having been thrown overboard in the storm and lost to the sea never to be seen again. Not even to this day has the bodies being washed up on to the beaches.Those still alive now were struggling to make sail with severely damaged masts and rigging, it was a very lost cause indeed. As for the rest of the fleet, one hundred and thirty five in all that sailed from Lisbon that year only eighty four made it back in varying states of distress to their home land so it is told, but little can be depended on this information today, because that fog .. that thick soup in the air that smelled of death itself gave no chance of hope of survival to man or fish. It is estimated that five thousand members of the fleet perished off the coast of the island before getting to land. It was so hopeless, the 'Diablo' was taking souls in the great complexity that goes into making such a storm that mankind has not the power to controle and never will.''

'The storyteller' looking to the ground in front of him as if it was going to open up and take him too ... and was that a tear coming from his right eye ... those that thought they saw it were not sure, but the effect of it made a long lasting  impression on those that say they saw it and for the rest of their living days they will come to tell each other that maybe 'the storyteller' himself was really there, in person, in that exact time of 1588 and watching it all unfold in front of him.
Lifting his head slowly and surveying his audience, left to right and back again to the ground in front of him,
He speaks, with a shiver in his voice as if he came in from the cold ... and maybe he did.

                   ''I will tell you this as sure as I am sitting here that it was a lone Spanish galleon from the Armada limping it's way back to Spain, against all the odds of survival of getting back and carrying the worst bunch of blood thirsty cut throats that ever lived and put to sea, they were all there on that very same galleon that was thrown onto the rocks at Dazzle without mercy and just like a child throwing a stone into a pond sending out ripples the very same cut throats sailors were thrown over board. It is not known how many men got to the shore but legend has it that eighty men were killed on the beach that terrible day by the axe of a lone islander known as the 'Defender of Dazzle'. He fought with fury unleashed in his actions like a wild dog turned loose without tiring and without stopping, till all the men who were washed on shore were no longer breathing the foggy air of Dazzle. To watch him fight was like watching the dance of death reaping lost souls running around just like headless chickens. He moved as if it was all rehearsed and in knowing the outcome of such a battle. Now tradition has it that it is the 'dazzle' from his axe while he is standing on the high ground is what you can see from sea just like the lighthouse beacon giving out the warning that danger lies here. The 'Defender of Dazzle' is always on the beach ready to do battle with any deserving soul and at times could be seen at the cemetery hill top watching out for such. He stands alone, strong and fearful of what might come ... and I should know for I am from the 'darker side of Dazzle' .. I am that very one sitting in front of you all they call 'The Defender'.''

Nobody dares to move from their seats when 'the storyteller' gets up from his chair limping badly with his right foot to leave the room and what's more, nobody took notice that 'the storyteller' had no limp when he arrived or that he was taller than he is now ... As for Basil, the birthday boy, 'the storyteller' had marked him for life on that day in that he will spend the rest of his living days in search for this gray place in the fog called, 'Dazzle'. It really started off as a passion that became a life time obsession with him that nothing else and nobody for that matter had a place in his life and if you want to know the truth .. he never did find that small village on the coast of any island or for that matter the 'Defender of Dazzle', nor ever saw or heard of 'the storyteller' again but it's very possible that right at this very moment in time he is still looking for Dazzle and 'the storyteller' in the after life world for Basil died in a storm at sea not unlike the one the Spanish galleons went down-in off the coast of that mystery land they called Dazzle.

''Which reminds of another story in a long-a-bout way .. 'The Coffin Jacket' ... did I ever tell you that story, no .. well, maybe that's for another time''...


                               
                                  
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

NOT TALKING ...

FOR SALE

 

''NOT TALKING''

Material;  Slab-built Ball Clay Electric High Fired.
                                    Clay is from Borneo. 
                   Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.

Size;  19.5 inches long x 9.5 inches wide x 14.5 inches high

{ 482.6 mm x 254 mm x 381 mm }

Finish;  Wax Dye

Edition;  One Off ... No Copies Made

                 {Original Artists Proof }

Year;  2008

A 'Certificate of Proof' will be provided and signed by the Artist.

Copyright remains with the Artist.

If you are interested in this work for your collection please contact me at ....

deedaf@gmail.com

                                            The thinking behind the work

Your first impression when looking at this work might be that it is in a 'naive style'. My intention throughout modeling this work was to keep it simple in style because I wanted to portray rejection and loneliness and also our dependence on companionship of any kind.

I think that the fisherman has to be content in what he is doing for a livelihood but also content in his own mind when out in sea and the elements that he cannot let any 'wild ideas' be running through his mind otherwise he would not go to sea each day.

In my sculpture 'Not Talking' my fisherman is naked symbolising his vulnerability to the sea and his offering of himself to the elements in life ... his dependence on his dog for companionship and when he and the dog had a disagreement and are 'not talking' his shame and isolation are now the most important thing happening in his life and even though the two are in the same boat both have their backs turned to each other and on their own in their emotions and thoughts.

I have given the dog the 'intelligent look' and that he is right in his point of view that he is looking towards the sky as if he is telling someone his side of the story. The fisherman in his shame and rejection by his companion the dog who shares his boat everyday has his head buried in his hat as if he does not want to hear and is in disbelief of what is happening to him. The bottle of beer between the two symbolises that it might be what came 'between' them and, or is part of life.

The deeper meaning in the work is that as human beings we are all sailing in our own boats {LIFE} and that we can all act in the same way in our own relationships and our dependence on others.

NOT TALKING by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.
Based on a work at www,deedaf.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.blogger.com/www.deedaf.blogspot.com.

''IF YOU GO DOWN IN YOUR MIND TODAY ..''

                                                                 

                                              FOR SALE

''IF YOU GO DOWN IN YOUR MIND TODAY ..''

Material;  Coil-built Ball Clay Electric High-Fired.
                  Clay is from Borneo. Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.

Size;  19 inches long x 10 inches wide x 15 inches high
            { 495.299 mm x 241.299 mm x 368.299 mm }

Finish;  Wax Dye

Edition;  One Off ... No Copies Made
                     {Original Artists Proof }

Year;  2008

A 'Certificate of Proof' will be provided and signed by the Artist.

Copyright remains with the Artist.

If you are interested in this work for your collection please contact me at ....

deedaf@gmail.com

The thinking behind the work ...

     I do not want to sound egoistical when I say this but there was no 'thinking' in this work for me. It flowed like a movie in my mind. Once I started the work the sculpture was telling me what was next to add. This work is telling a story but it's my story and when you look at the sculpture 360 degrees reading it from right to left it will tell you a story but then it will be your story and it will derive from your own imagination from your memories of childhood what you have seen and read, your fears and emotions and where you are today in your maturity. 

     What I will say is this, this sculpture gave me the very reason to explore that which is not cognizable through science and rationality and enter into my world as the artist where the language of the subconscious mind can be put into 3D form and become the linkage between mind, vision and material. In this sculpture, past, present and future can be seen along with good and evil. It came from non judgemental action, that is, the subconscious.

     

      ''IF YOU GO DOWN IN YOUR MIND TODAY ..''

underlies that what we dream between the imaginable space we so often can find ourselves in or that not yet embedded world of possibilities where dreams can become a reality with the world of things already existing in a material world of sound, touch and smell. Where the world of dream can come together to move your senses into an experience of a 'personal experience' with art.

                                                                  

                                                               http://youtu.be/RMR3gNxJtco

                                               

 

IF YOU GO DOWN IN YOUR MIND TODAY by DAF is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.

Based on a work at www,deedaf.blogspot.com.

Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at

http://www.blogger.com/www.deedaf.blogspot.com.

MY PET

FOR SALE



MY PET 

Material; Coil-built Ball Clay Electric High-Fired.

Clay is from Borneo. Ball clays are relatively scarce deposits due to the combination of geological factors needed for their formation and preservation.

Size;  35 inches high. {0.889mm}

Finish; Wax Dye, Acrylic Paint, and 24K Pearl Gold.

Edition; One Off ... No Copies Made {Original Artists Proof }

Year; 2009

A 'Certificate of Proof' will be provided and signed by the Artist.

Copyright remains with the Artist. If you are interested in this work for your collection please contact me at .... deedaf@gmail.com

                           The thinking behind the work ....

I wanted to make a work that implied sexual connotations through out without being vulgar or erotic and at the same time being sexual in all aspects of the word. To involve emotions of loneliness and yet contentment in mind.

                                 In this work 'My Pet' I am the symbolist artist but I am also trying to convey visually what can be written in words without leaving the reader any doubt as to what is going on and so when it comes to the visual you are left to your own emotions and as to where you are in your acceptance of life and your fellow Human Being. 

http://youtu.be/U-j-3sx7Bmo



MY PET by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.
Based on a work at www,deedaf.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.blogger.com/www.deedaf.blogspot.com.

THE TOSS OF A COIN

                                                   
                                                
                             I AM ... AM I ...
                         
                         I don't need to be pardoned for my sins in the past. What's in the past is in the past unless you take pleasure in opening up festering wounds that never seem to heal over. Time can heal many wounds but it don't make deals with your memories, this one you cope with yourself in your own way but maybe I need to be pardoned for the sin I am about to commit .... this is my story as it happened, as true as I am sitting here putting it down for the record.
                         
                         I am getting too old now for the cold weather but it was extra cold that night in mid December. I don't know how many stops I had made during that journey but I think it was three, yes it was three, I remember now because each time I stopped I was taking a mental flogging for events in the past and those about to happen. I felt like turning back to the safety of all that was good and what I believed in to be good but I knew this was not possible. There was no running away from it. I had to keep going in spite of the pain in my head and traffic that was now slowing everything down to a crawl which I took to be personal as to deliberately slow me down in getting to my destination. It was the stress with-in me getting to me. Each time I thought about the whole thing, I pulled the car over and lit another damn cigarette, sometimes not even smoking the things that were already killing me but that was not what was on my mind. I had another matter that was taking over my mind like creeping lava, burning all that was good in it's path and making me sick to my inner core. You know that sickness, half physical but more of a mental thing. The sickness that takes over everything that is .. or passes you off for sane in this world and then you find you are starting to talk Jibberish to yourself and pulling faces that if someone else was to look at you they would look away very quickly because they would feel you are not quite right in the head and rightly so. They don't want problems .. they have their own cross to battle with without you coming on to them like a raving lunatic, let alone that they are reminded that it could very well be them in the same situation that seems to find everybody, rich-man poor-man some time in their life. 
                          
                         I had being driving now for almost seven hours without any decent rest except for the self imposed 'pit stops' that solved nothing in my thoughts and gave me no rest of any kind .. I had a lot of 'soup' in the head I wanted to vomit out. You can never tell when something like this creeps up on you ... you might see the signs but you chose to ignore them because you know you don't want the outcome, you only know deep inside from your own so called intuition that it could only end up bad, and now I am here, in that state, in that 'place' that has no turning back. I prayed with all the faith I could muster up for me to step back into time and for the things as they were before making my journey on this God forsaken night ... and He has forsaken me. 
Maybe I stop the poor-me crap and tell you how I got to this very 'place' ...

                          I was putting my vestments away and hoping I would not be taking them out again for the rest of the week and tidying about after that sad but damned funeral that split my small community in half and put them at each others throats like two super powers trying to kill themselves but still in ignorance of the consequences. They each had their own reasons as to why she died and both were saying the same thing but just could not for the love of man see it ... how far can anger turn the mind that no state of mind can put things right what ever you feel that 'right' is. It's a constant battle between good and evil in any given normal day but this is no normal day and I don't know if any other day can ever be normal again. Evil seems to always win on the first toss of the coin .... tell me if I am wrong about that one ... try it. 
At first I did not hear the knocking on the door until it became a heavy pounding like the sound of distant thunder. When I did open the door a child was standing there looking frightened but with the determination to see the errand through, I could tell by the body language. A piece of dirty paper was thrown on the ground in front of me and then the child ran away in the knowing expectation it did not wanted to be questioned by the figure in black ... or to get away quickly as if seeing me would mark him or her for life. I stooped to pick the greasy paper up. Greasy from the sweat of little hands and now those little silver dots were dancing in front of my eyes as I tried to focus to read. I read and I reread and stood fixed to the spot understanding what had to be done but deep down not wanting to understand and I reread again. It was not for the first time what was about to happen. I knew what had to be done, and why not lit up another cigarette. I was expecting this, but it came sooner this time than the other times before. It was now way past mid-day and I was already half way through this soggy pack of smokes and allowed myself a not-to-often-smile. Maybe I smoked this brand because the camel on the pack reminds me of a story that started a whole list of events off that took control of mankind and divided it up into 'the power of three, them us and others'. It was the way I was seeing things now, all because of a 'camel' and maybe I was smoking 'camel shit'. I closed up the vestry and took what I needed into my blue hold-all, it didn't take long, I knew what I had to bring and left a note to say I had to go out on a sick call. It was very much, and without question, understood what 'sick call' meant here and also because it was not for the first time I had to leave a note like it. Each time the 'sick call' took more out of me but on some very unexpected day and you can bet on it and like a slap on the face from out of nowhere it will kill me .. maybe to-day is that day ... right now, who's to know ... except maybe Him above and Him below.

                         I pulled off the main road and onto a dirt road. You would miss that turn-off if you were to sneeze. Sleet was starting to fall heavy and slowed the wipers down with the weight of ice and rain. Tall blackberry hedge rows each side of me with hidden ghosts looking out at me, sneering and taunting me as I drove up the dirt road. You would find it hard now days to see blackberry surviving the deeds of farmers, progress and so called 'new farming methods'. I could hear loud and clear the thorns of the hedge row scraping along the side of the car like finger nails on glass as I made my way up to the double storey farm house made from brick and the upper part in wood that could do with a paint job, even in this weather you could see that .. but it has being like this for as long as I have being coming here and I doubt if it will ever be painted again. Thirteen hours sitting in the car did not do my back any good and as for the pain in my side it was like as if a hot spear went through. If anybody saw me getting out of the car even in this darkness they would swear on there mothers grave that I was drunk and in a way I was 'drunk' from tiredness. I stretched slowly in the hope I was not going to pull a muscle now in my back and walked slowly to the front door, picking my steps like a cat sneaking up on a mouse or just simply and no getting away from it .. nerves. Fourteen steps up. Why anybody wants fourteen steps to a front door still amuses me, it comes with the job, thinking like this. Standing on the porch and trying to get my wind back ... of course .. I was fooling myself .. it was fear. Fear that made my heart pound that I could hear no night sounds .. if there was any to be heard but I am sure they were all there, encouraging me on .. ghosts too. It's always the fear that I can rely on and never get use to. My hand was shaking as if it was trying to stop me from doing what cannot be stopped now ... as it reached out to the front door but wanting to fall down by my side like a timid dog wanting approval from it's owner ... but the door opened at the sight of my hand .. it never got to 'knock' or for me to wait in the sweating fear for it to open from the other side. At first I did not see him but got that heavy pungent smell like decaying vegetation. My body took a step back to protect me from myself fainting, or maybe it was two in the remembrance of what we are and of the feuding factions we have become and now confronting each other again ... good and evil ... we stand for all that is good and for all that is evil and as you will come to know it without doubt in your own way and in your own time as we all do for we cannot escape it. We cannot go through life without facing one or the other and maybe both at the same time and make that fatal choice where the freewill is given full freedom to act .. not even a priest of any making or throwing all discretion to the four winds can call on God to decide for him.  

   ''I got your message.''

''I know priest. I delivered it myself, personally .. did you like the effect .. somehow a kid can always bring the desired effect into play ... do you not think so ?''

   ''Why do you do this to me ?''

''Why not, we have a good thing going here, why end our little friendship after all this time we have known each other.''

   ''It's killing me. My community would not be happy if they knew I was talking with the devil .. and a busy devil at that.''

''That's not fair .. you are like the child now, name calling, and as for your so called 'community' more than half  and maybe all for that matter will belong to me in the end one way or the other.''

   ''Fair .. don't talk about fairness ... you took that child's soul. She had not got the chance in life to see where her soul would end up ..

I knew you were behind it, you always are. Look who's talking about being fair. You have no fairness in you. You make me sick you do.''

''What's the problem, stop whining, it's only one little soul ... but you came all the way out here for it all the same, scourging yourself on that drive. Getting longer each time, too many memories now for you. You know I am with you all the time ... don't fool yourself because I am not playing games here.''

   ''You just love to see me make that journey. To make me suffer all the more for their sins and don't think for one second that I am playing games.''

''It was part of our little deal from the very first word spoken or have you forgotten .. no you have not forgotten our first little encounter on that mountain when you were on your so called 'forty days and forty nights trying to find yourself trip'... I made you the offer that everything you can have with no effort but you made your choice .... so live with it.''

   ''No I haven't forgotten. How can I forget when I have to live with it each day .. we were friends before you wanted things your way , all your way.''

''You are not going to start again about this 'good and evil' crap talk. You can talk about it to the others but not to me .. I'm too old for this bullshit now but the way I see it I am winning the war against 'good' ... take a look around you ... take a long look at the mess they are making .. how many wars and depravity acts are in the making right now .. there are more so-called 'evil' acts being carried out in the world than ever before in it's history and sometimes we don't need souls to mess it all up, Mother Nature wants her revenge too.''

   ''That's not the way I see it and for me for I still see the 'good' in all souls. There is still hope for 'good' to come through but you have the knack of looking up when I am looking down.''

''Yea yea yea .. heard it all before, let's get down to it and as in your own sweet words .. I'm a 'busy devil' ... no time to waste here, we are not jaywalking now. We will see who will win her little innocent soul back on the toss of a coin. We use my coin this time .. and on observation we will have deliberation so to speak ... O.K. with you my friend ?''

''I AM ... O.K.''

''AM I ... O.K.''

  ...... ...... ......



THE TOSS OF A COIN by DAF is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Malaysia License.
Based on a work at www,deedaf.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.blogger.com/www.deedaf.blogspot.com.