Sebastian

You are born and,
Champagne is drunk in my room.
The only boy after a spate of girls—
the 4th child in a flock of five

Seb you are much
more than gender identity.
You are one of the most valuable people I have met
And, not because you are our son. In spite of it.

There is a grace about you that is unsurpassed.

Fun and playfulness become you,
you love a joke or two
I so enjoy our talks —
on books, film and music.

or whatever you put your mind to–

You have the best playlists— wink wink
Super driving skills, I’d drive anywhere with you.
I appreciate your vanity, after all,
who does not like to look good?

blame it on Venus in the 1st house

BUT, it’s your kindness and gentleness that I just adore
You are one in a million who could ask for more?
Today you are 21. A man, my son.
A party at Anderson road is what we’d done

To help celebrate your birthdate

The family is sorry that we are not there
you are in college and have plans in the make.
A celebration will happen when you are back home.
So cheers to you and all you do.

Your goodness is so profound it
makes me want to weep, my love for you,
eternal absolute and deep.

Happy Birthday Seb. Hope there is cake.

isaboo & sebastian 3.jpg

I was looking for a recent photo and believe it or not could not find one.
So here’s looking at you, Seb. Gosh you were cute. The girl next to you is pretty cute, too.

Dream House

Dream House

She worked with architects and saw many houses. First, it was in the looking and in the answering of a question thrown here or there by the lead architect of the group. She wasn’t quite taken with the houses she saw- and once in a while she was stumped by a question asked of her. “What makes the acoustics so good in this house?’? Why don’t the stairs have a bannister to hold onto? She thought she knew the answers to the questions, but wasn’t ready to answer—there was something in each question that she questioned. For instance; “why wasn’t there a bannister for the stairs? She could not (yet) understand why an architect would forego practicality and safety for beauty of line and aesthetics. She mentioned that to the head architect, who erroneously told her she was stupid and if she was going to question a left out bannister, she was nowhere ready to become an architect! She took umbrage to that and decided to leave his apprentice and apply to join another. He was angry, or rather his ego was hurt, that he let her go without writing a recommendation. She left, and in a week, she was snapped up by her former bosses rival architectural practice. That very day after a breakfast meeting of coffee (delivered from Kopi Kade) and donuts: glazed, sugared and in a multitude of colours) he told his students that he was taking them to visit some houses that he had designed along with his partner. Standard practice she thought and on her very first day as well. They drove down the streets of Colombo, until they were in Colombo 3. The driver turned right on Damien place and pulled over to the right halfway down the street. That was the defining moment when Julie saw her dream house. She could tell by the quake in her knees, the butterflies at the pit of her stomach and the goose pimples all over her body. She got out of the car and closed the door and walked slowly to the front door.

 

 

Isabella at 21

IMG_9744

Isabella at 21
Is very beautiful
kind and all woman
she nurtures, she cares,
for everyone.
Her nature from birth

Has a sunny disposition.
She is also very smart
(she doesn’t think so)
But, we know so.

Her self-depreciating characteristic
Is typical of a Ceylonese
Especially from an Anglican
School
Such as Ladies College.

Isabella is a bella
The belle of the ball
In my book for sure
I would cast her
As the central character
She is unique

Extremely likeable
And resourceful.
21 years old.  I’ve had the
pleasure of spending
quality time
with her in Melbourne
for a week.

I note that she is interested in most things
Especially the arts
After we shopped we sat down and listened
To a musician busking
She then pointed out the MOMA exhibit
And there is one in Brunswick.

She has left me now in Melbourne.
She has gone back to Brisbane
I’ll be leaving on a plane
This Friday. Back to where I came from
Where Isabella was born
CEYLON

Sweater Weather

Sweater Weather

 
Short days in Michigan
the leaves colors
reminds me of the hills
in that faraway island during the
dry season – the red earth
hot underfoot, crackles
as the leaves drop
making a mound
Smoothies drunk in a café
contain this richness
The liquid slides down
the throat and a coat is buttoned
Outside the air freezes
Smoke blows from the mouth
Cigarette tossed on the ground

The old man mowing his lawn
Wearing his slate cashmere V-neck
holes under the arms,
has never bothered
to get the thing darned.
It is the season to shoot
Gun in hand, A-k47 in another
Looking for Rabbit, Deer, Bear.

Billy wears a brown, round, wool neck sweater
that keeps him warm.
and camouflages him well.
No-one mentions the time he was at
The creek – a body floated up, face down –
bloated and gross from
being in the river for over a week.
The sheriff hushed It up,
Billy was his son, you see.

The Sheriff wore a red wool sweater
A Cary Grant look alike
The people of his County respected him.
The sole reason the body story was
Buried. His word was final.

Autumn in Michigan, meant road trips—a six pack of
Molson in the car; Reuben sandwiches, girlfriends.
We’d sing to Joni Mitchell and Carol King—
perfect tunes for a fall sunset
that seemed to last forever. At night, Deborah Harry
blasted from the CD deck the stars shining brightly.

she wore her purple sweater, made of Angora.
It smelled of perfume: Opium.
Then! San Francisco the golden gate bridge
Swinging in the setting sun
Cars in lines drivers behaving
Even though cars had stopped altogether.
No military that we could see
We drove to Full Moon Beach.
Threw our sweater’s off
And with it our youthful emotional angst
The water was cold.
We could very well had been swimming in
Lake Michigan—

Except for the unforgettable Road Trip.
2261 miles of it.

 

Machine I loved

Machine I loved

A low slung Volks
turbo charged, fast
(naturally)
did 130 miles on
the Arugumbay
Moneragala road
“A poor man’s porsche’
my friend said.
Leonard Cohen crooning
as we looked
at the mountains
whizzing by
light poured in
the driver seat
comfortable enough to
race in.
I down shifted to third
then, back to fourth, fifth
as we turned the corner
on two wheels
the car did a one eighty
and smashed against
the hillside
we poured out
stunned, bruised, bleeding
we were ok
the car ok, too
German engineering
I thought
I loved this car
I was biased
Thank god we weren’t
driving the Prius.

NS FEB 13, 2017

 

Not Another Art Project

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The Colombo Artists, organizers of “Not Another Art Project”, have in this instance opposing ideas about the world of art where the curator is the custodian of the artists work– Not Another Art Project is the result of an exhibition that is not “traditionally” curated.

Instead, of using the curatorial route to determine to the artists on how to present their work, they have chosen to arrange this exhibition by virtue of an invite to the artists selected by them — based purely on the personal relationship they maintain with each of the artists — and have been overwhelmed and humbled by their response.

The Colombo Artists’ only criterion is that they have a direct relationship with each artist. Some artists they know better than others; some they have met via email; but, they are familiar with the work and in the artists approach in the way they manifest what they make.

Each artist has his or her own personal interpretation to what they create and are not dictated to in this exhibition by a theme: political, social, conceptual or otherwise.

This sharing of space by the artists is the point. They are excited to come together to exhibit as a group—to learn, be enlivened and encouraged by each other. It’s their way of honoring and saying thanks to each other – for the inspiration they all have shared in the making of Not Another Art Project.

The Barefoot Gallery has traditionally encouraged this form of artistic freedom and is looking forward to seeing the results of the project. The Colombo Artists are showing this body of work at the Barefoot Gallery commencing on the 8th of May 2013.

Nazreen Sansoni
Director
The Barefoot Gallery