Vincent du Feu
煚, 文生
我是艺术家。我想要了解文化。我想要了解生与死。我想要创造和毁坏。我想要使人认为。我想要使人感觉。
In the artist of all kinds I think one can detect an inherent dilemma, which belongs to the co-existence of two trends, the urgent need to communicate and the still more urgent need not to be found…
What more fruitful way to redressing the balance than by portraying one’s inner world in a work of art and then persuading other people to accept it, if not as real, at least as highly significant? Part of the satisfaction which a creative person obtains from his achievement may be the feelings that, at last, some part of his inner life is being accepted which has never been accorded recognition before. Moreoever, since art became an individual matter rather than a task for anonymous craftsmen, creative work is generally recognized as being especially apt for expressing the personal style of an individual (which is course closely related to his inner world). The value we place upon authenticity is often exaggerated, yet there is a sense in which it is justified. However good a painting or a piece of music may be, taken quite apart from its creator, the fact that it is or is not another expression of the personality of a particular artist is important. For it either is or is not an addition to our knowledge of the artist; a further revelation of that mysterious, indefinable and fascinating thing – his personality. (D. W. Winnicott, quoted in Anthony Storr, The Dynamics of Creation, 58.)
Artwork
Equanimity
Harley Quinn Series
[three out of four suits: Spades, Diamonds, Hearts]
Whir
S.A.D.
Earth Lyrical
The Eye of Horus
Photography
Poetry
Fade to Black
The great shadow hand makes a fist
My mind a glove; heart a knot
From a place within I quiety bleed
Diseased mind; my soul aches
Hide the mirror, try to weep
Habitual solace
And broken memories
Scattered like old suitcases
Tomorrow I'll lament yesterday
Without love, we all fade
Blister
Wires frame the sky
While the sun sits up high
When moments swim by
With a throat ready to burst
A staring room and an aching thirst
The bottle-cold kiss is the day's first
I see the burnt air freckled with grit
From a shadowed seat where I now sit
Today I miss the cold, I'll admit
Out a bubbling window it was found
A mechanical arm that moves without sound
As it toils in the dead broken ground
Eventually I picked up my hat
Emptied a glass and then spat
When that is this, then this is that
Days of New
I am reborn under this guise
Tomorrow is today's demise
The scuffs in the dirt
I wear my hurt
With my freedom, I've not grown
The grass, fresh, moist, unknown
We both trapped within season
Getting further from reason
Forfit choice, react
Same again, stack
Top card, another day
It's new, so they say
Today
Can't see for the pain
Empty of all
Filled with awakenings
These times are joined
Its a road I'll never leave
Rucksack slung low
Breathe through the pain
Curtains drift in my torment
Barriers
Without control, I disconnect
Chemical reckoning
Slowing turning motioning
Back to this
U-Turn
Curtain of eyes
Love quickens the sickness
Clockwork clown
Residing in a world of believe made
Believe to be real
Contortions, flesh, bring everything nearer
Answers to what?
A path of self discovery and discovery of self
We are mere vessels of projection
Sam
I am an extention of your manipulation
A vehicle forward, reverse
Your forwards my reverses
Lately, reverse to both
I am a stranger with you
Know your pain? I can only guess
The clock turns, but you?
Yo bitch, get out the way!
I am your way, friend
Your clothes hanger, your fall guy
Dead reckoning
Your dead eyes spread me apart
I can't feel anything in their grasp
Anything from you, only shuffled memories
You keep yourself in, and me out
I will fuck you over, because that's all you know
The Rob I see outside is not mine
Your project has grown in ways you don't posess
Bitterness comes through it all
The Breeder's Itch
He ejected from me
Before this, I crushed my burden against her
The concept so less real
A beakon of that night
The highlight, or rather, lowlight
Time to fathom expectations now
Expect sex, the anger of denial
Harness the differences, focus on his fat
It's a great scapegoat
I love to turn the whip from myself
I bite down on the tether
Another successful friend of a friend
Count the times and duplicate the "highlights"
I gave him unfetted warmth
Gains
The air; jagged holes in my exodus
Your smiles lie beneath the clutter
Hooks pull my mind all directions
The vacuum left behind movement
To and fro, a rocking chair of despair
Attached emotion: the concrete
Another nest.
New eyes each time or
Old eyes with new cries?
Out them behind you, those not under your assention
The sensitive must carry their cross
Self hate follows the self
Hate gravitates to the fragile soul
Beneath the layers of self
The nub of it all
Broken Dream
The one where choice is free
Where love is every destiny
The shallow pebbles resound
Toiling against the tides hound
We too grind and grate
Leeching against a contrived fate
High overhead, a falcon soars
Subject to just one law.
Inside an eye, a striped haze
Reminds me of better days
Gravity
Pulling me through the flesh and bone
Sunk time, footprints everywhere
Giving up on it all
Want to let go, not knowing else
Measure the moments within moments
The Haunting
Everything is soft, my wet eyes
Destiny's scoff, defining lies
Grace, heaven's tender loose
Embrace, I need this fear to reduce
My reservations you know
Less stable I grow
Take away my evil, what is left?
A shell in need of filling, which is best?
