An interview with Arcadia Gallery owner Steve Diamant and artist Jeremy Lipking at Lipking's solo exhibition at Bergamot Station, Santa Monica California. Arcadia Gallery in New York came to Southern California to put on an exhibition of Jeremy Lipking's figure and landscape paintings, it was the first significant showing of Lipking's wor
There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams, Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams; Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey, And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday. There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool, And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool: In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare, Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air. There is not a living creature in the lonely space around, And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound. As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind; I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more, As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before. Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start - For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart. The Garden, H.P. Lovecraft
Put out my eyes, and I can see you still, Slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet; And without any feet can go to you; And tongueless, I can conjure you at will. Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you And grasp you with my heart as with a hand; Arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true; And if you set this brain of mine afire, Then on my blood-stream I yet will carry you.
