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Posts Tagged ‘BE MY LULLABY; Catherine L. Johnson;’

BLACKMOVESYELLOW

#1/ #2/ #3 / #4/ #5/ #6

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Please click for further information:

http://www.mnartists.org/artwork/blackmovesyellow-1-2-3-4-5-6

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Please click for

BLACKMOVESYELLOW

#7/ #8/ #9 / #10/ #11/ #12/ #13

https://catherineljohnson.wordpress.com/2016/09/20/blackmovesyellow-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-2016-catherine-l-johnson-rene-maries-vocal-sonics-charles-lloyds-wild-man-dance-open-sonics/

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Black is associated with power; 
elegance; formality and mystery.

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Black denotes strength and authority;
it is considered to be a very formal, elegant, and prestigious color.

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In heraldry, black is the symbol of grief.

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Black was one of the first colors used by artists
in neolithic cave paintings.

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Yellow is a symbolic color that brings joy and delight. 
The third chakra, located at the solar plexis,
is said to be yellow.

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The
“solar plexis”
is associated with the power of the sun (solar-sun).
Yellow, then, is associated with positive thinking.

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The solar plexis is where we/I gather
y/our/ my courage
and
y/our/ my will power.

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PLEASE CLICK ON EACH IMAGE TO ENLARGE

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blackmovesyellow_1_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #1                                              Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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blackmovesyellow_2_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #2                                                     Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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blackmovesyellow_3_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #3                                                       Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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blackmovesyellow_4_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #4                                                       Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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blackmovesyellow_5_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #5                                                 Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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blackmovesyellow_6_2016_catherineljohnsonBLACKMOVESYELLOW  #6                                                      Catherine L. Johnson 2016

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CALL + RESPONSE.

BREATHING.

LISTENING.

DANCING.

LOVING.

HONING Y/ OUR/ MY SENSES.

LIVING LIFE A/LIVE.

BLESSINGS FLOW…

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The yellow color I selected for

BLACKMOVESYELLOW

series shifts suddenly, and slowly,
the color vacillates from gold to citron
depending on the  source/ intensity of the ambient light
and the position of the viewer to the work.
My art needs an actual encounter.
It IS a performance that needs to be witnessed/ experienced.

 

I mixed several variations of yellow like a sound engineer working with a sonic.
Refining.
Refining.
Discerning.
Refining.
Discerning.
Touchstone.

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My art is silent sonics.
You listen to it with attentive, receptive open palms.
The space is the silence between the notes.

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Each painting is a composition of disparate parts:
 filmic + sonic + poetic.

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The line quality resonates with Mstislav Rostropovich’s
cello’s flowing/ deepening  sonic grace of his Bach Cello Suites.

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Then there is Charles Lloyd’s sonics:
a testament of the presence of the sacred.

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I listened to Charles’

WILD MAN DANCE

as I worked in the studio over and over and over and over and over and over and 
over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…

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Charles’ art is always a revelation,
a harkening of ALL that is only visible
to the heart, by/ for the beloved
and calls out what is luminous in y/our my soul.

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His sonics are one continuous river of reverence.
Blessing the wild.
Blessings of the serene.
Blessed are the explorers who listen to the Oracle of Delphi and hold a divining rod.

https://catherineljohnson.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/87a15-clwmd.jpg

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biz_card_icanfeel_catherineljohnson_2015_insert

 

 

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HERHYMNS: BEMYLULLABY 2013 CATHERINE L. JOHNSON; CATHERINE L. JOHNSON;

HERHYMNS: BEMYLULLABY                                                                      CATHERINE L. JOHNSON  2013

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
HERHYMNS PORTFOLIO 2013
 
#1. BEMYLULLABY  11.5″ H x 19″ W  mixed media on board
 

+

 
Over The Rainbow
 Eva Cassidy Live at Jazz Alley
 
 
 
 
 
 
PLEASE CLICK TWICE ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I dive for pearls that are shining deep within.

My solitude + solace has been shattered.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
By the knowledge
of the
sound of violence
behind a locked  door 
and
through thin walls 
with
dialed up
full volume music 
to make the senses mute
of those outside
the locked door
 and
which skewers
the naming of the actions.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
NOTE:
No Maria
singing with her arms outstretched,
nor Austrian mountain ranges,
nor edelweiss
present
on the scene.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
No theatre.
No entertainment.
No concession stand.
No tickets.
No performance times.
An exhibition to all within earshot.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Options/requests
to please to go
to another
venue
went
unheeded.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
An invisible exhibition presented
to
 all
who
could
hear
violence
but, 
could

not

 see
violence.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Blindsided.
Blindfolded.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The
performance
of
a shell game
with
 charm
 and 
a smile
and
a wink
is
a

 harrowing

betrayal.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
When the shell  game begins
so does the  deceptive naming:
tables are turned,
personas are worn,
deceit
is threaded
through the roots,
the boughs
and
the leaves,
and

the script is flipped

-skillfully,
practiced.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

What is the label of the privilege

to disrespect/deceive others

which

destroys

a social contract,

a covenant.

It is not about morality

– that is shrill, silly and cheap.

It is about

 mutual consent

– valuing/acknowledging

others as equals

with

equal rights

to enjoy their

solace

and

solitude

-which are the necessary

tenets

to create

any

“art form”.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I  have witness/ed the collateral damage
 on others
 whose bodies and senses
heard/knew 
the “noise” of intense pain.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Their eyes are sunken back
 in
horror + helplessness
as  the sonics
of
distress
blare/d.
They did NOT choose, nor consent
to
experience
what they heard,
and
could only see vividly,
in their mind’s eye,
and
now
they have to breathe knowing
that
they
are
now
complicit.
Their tongues are cut as deep as their psyche has been injured.
How does one move now as they become Hamlet.
Now as they are trapped in performance,
a siphon of truth,
an existence they did NOT choose.
Think of the gravediggers in Hamlet,
the scene of exposing the bones
of buried lives, of stories lived.
 
 
 
“To be or not to be- that is the question…”
now living Hamlet’s soliloquy as awareness dawns.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The ten mile stare comes,
the  haunting dissociative state,
 the signature of a survivor
of
violence and abuse.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
One lit match- can create an echo,
which once thrown into their memory
starts a raging wildfire,
devouring
oxygen.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 That is the truth of those
who have already 
 sustained
 and
overcome 
 excruciating
violence.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Their creative expression,
their art form
was the sacred wide
deep waters, 
the gospel song,
 out of the darkness
 and 
the frozen terror
 that had locked their bodies.
The expression of their creativity is their lullaby,
their hallelujah
-their victory.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Once one has crossed the despair
and
the scars are opened
and
drained,
YOU
are
NOT
afraid.
 

NOT AFRAID

of 
the threat of
your
throat
 being cut
to

silence

the 

truth

you
know.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I dive for pearls that are shining deep within.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

That is what artists do:

transform /transmute
the stench of shadows
 into pillars of fire
 for others
to
see,
hear,
touch,
taste
with the heart,
spine and soul.
Artists
exclaim beauty in ephemera,
can prevail in ambiguity,
can distill hope;
shape NEW optics, perspectives, perceptions;
by dismantling boundaries +  overturning tyrannies of control;
discrediting the sorting
of humanity
by
 labels
and, 
constantly,
through a multiplicity of art forms
and
a wide spectrum of communication vehicles

calling out

to

humanity’s

amazing grace

and

creating a dialogue, a new language,

an open conversation

to reveal and disclose

what/who we are

and

what

truths

we claim or deny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creation is an action,

a testament of decisions within a field of mysteries.

A field,

not  a dualistic boxing ring of dominance and submission,

 nor a binary equation of abstraction and control,

but a  visceral field of

weaving and yielding and combinations

of

insight, clear sight and vision.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
As the poet Rilke stated:
the artist loves the question more than the answer.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Hurricane lamps.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For me, I listen to the sound of life rising.
I know deafening despair.
I know the elixir of bountiful joy.
The spectrum of being alive.
Breathing.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For  several months ,
my
solace and solitude
has been stolen, ripped away by knowledge
that I did NOT want to know.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Now,
I must dive deeper
with the hope
that I can hold my breath
long enough
to reach and grasp
for that one shining pearl
that
resonates
with
the choir of my soul.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
No smoke and mirrors
nor doppelgangers
are
welcomed
into
my
harbor
of
solace and solitude.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Enter
only
if you are authentic
and
risk to disclose
the truth of you,
and
 you have the capacity
to
create
a
dialogue comprised of truth,
compose a song,
a gospel song.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

BE MY LULLABY

 

 

 

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CATHERINE L. JOHNSON ART

THE ART of CATHERINE L. JOHNSON

Michele Needs a Kidney

How can someone help?

CATHERINE L. JOHNSON ART

THE ART of CATHERINE L. JOHNSON