A cover for the Naugatuck River Review

To engage with thoughts, and those of others 
a larger consciousness. Sympathetic space.
The why of things, occurrences, stirrings, evocations, 
the space between one's legs, a visage, the tilt of a head, 
Spaces that certain people simply seem to inhabit.

Naugatuck River Review, a journal of narrative poetry. Summer/Fall, 2018 - Issue 20. ISSN: 1944-0952
Publisher/Managing Editor: Lori Desrosiers
Associate Editor: Michael Mercurio
Guest Editors: Tamra Callaher. Howie Faerstein, Anita Gallers, Robbie Gamble, Ellen LaFleche
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Cover Artists Statement
Venantius J Pinto, a graduate of Pratt Institute, is a 7th Dan in Shodō. An artistic laborer of Indian descent; born of Goan parentage, he grew up among many religiosities in India; and lives in New York City seeking for possibilities into phenomena that pass within his senses. From 1992–97, he was an Adjunct Professor at FIT, and was gainfully employed at OgilvyOne and later at DDB. Over the years he has maintained his freelance practice.

His art has appeared in the Kyoto Journal, Philosophy Now, two academic books, showcased in An Illustrated Life, on the covers of Pirene’s Journal, and Canon for Bears and Ponderosa Pines; in Fusor de Tintas: A century of combat poetry, Mexico. Aani and the Tree Huggers was on the Smithsonian magazine’s Most Notable Book List. He was Artist-in-Residence at Nagasawa Art Park Japanese Woodblock Printmaking in Awajishima, and has painted murals including in 2017 in Argentina, Colombia and Mexico. He has collaborated with Sondra Graff on projects for various dance companies, including Lucinda Childs, Jose Limon, Doug Varone and Dancers, Dance Brazil, and for The British Dance Invasion.

To engage with thoughts, and those of others
a larger consciousness. Sympathetic space.
The why of things, occurrences, stirrings, evocations,
the space between one's legs, a visage, the tilt of a head,
Spaces that certain people simply seem to inhabit.

Since early childhood, I was drawn to color, detail in objects, faces, and things that projected unique lines; realizing that lines convey movement which in turn express what even the senses may not register. Looking into the spirit of language and the spirit in color is a critical part of the process, whether by seeking depth in a proverb or being touched by color resonances. Ethics more than aesthetics concerns the primary focus. The aesthetics fall into place once I am sufficiently propelled to act on form.
In that sense my concerns are phenomenological: This concern perhaps stems from a desire to give meaning to differences in my existence compared to that of another person.

Line and marks define, convey momentum;
Delineate space, pierce space, radiate space, sensibilize space.
They hatch texture, layer tone
Split the curtain, raise up storms;
Approach as tsunamis, create Upheaval;
Give hopes their horizons
Convey sensibility.

venantius.pinto@gmail.com

Katelyn Franklin's, Horsy Land

When I was in first grade in India, I won a book on horses for standing First in class. That book in 1967 (if I am not mistaken) introduced me to all kinds of horses, including the Pintos, Piebalds, Shetland ponies, Morgans, the Clydesdales, the Arabians, the Palominos, the Lippizanners, and other splendid breeds.

This post incidentally is to celebrate the site Horsy Land which is maintained by Katelyn Franklin of Brooklyn. It introduces one to horse training and various breeds while elucidating succinctly what is special about a given horse.

As a child I was impressed with the picture of the Morgan in my book, but also because of my mother's cousin, was named Morgan! Few of us were aware of where names came from and how they were assigned. For instance, my mother picked my name Venantius from the Salesian calender. So from reading about the Morgan horse provided this information under What Makes a Morgan Horse so Special?
 

photo: Horsy Land, Kathelyb Franklin 

The Morgan horse has been known as the first family of American horses. The early development of the breed took place in the New England states... 

And that too after almost 51 years. Of course, there was no good reason to look it up, as with so many things encountered in childhood; and besides, we did not have an encyclopedia at home. And further:

Legend has it that, one evening during the Revolutionary War, Colonel De Lancey, commander of a Tory mounted regiment, rode up to an inn at King’s Bridge and after hitching his famous stallion, True Briton, to the rail, went into the inn for some liquid refreshments, as was his custom. While the Colonel was celebrating with liquor and song, the Yankees stole his horse, later selling the animal to a farmer near Hartford, Connecticut. The whimsical story goes on to say that True Briton later sired the fuzzy-haired colt that was to be christened after his second owner, Justin Morgan.

I plan on visiting the Horsy Land site and am looking forward to the possibility of drawing horses when I get/have the opportunity to do so. 

Ode to a Fragment of Silence is my depiction of my father Bernard Pinto's final journey and reads from right to left. This drawn narrative is a reenactment, a walking, from a place which at that time I still called home — to the cemetery. The narration being a recital of the funereal events drawn to reflect my voice, the lines emanating as marks upon reflection on photographs; and most emphatically a narratology of my fathers voice coming to me as fragments. Memory traces, fragmentations, lines, blots, pressure, the spirit of the moments shared giving form, a trace, transparency, lucidity — some meaning. The moments of drawing, moments within drawing, fragments, stylistic or otherwise. But what really led me to the paper? Rothko in an address to Pratt Institute in November 1958 emphatically spelled out the idea that one must look beyond the concern for self-expression towards seeking ingredients such as having a “clear preoccupation with death — intimation of mortality … Tragic art, romantic art, etc… deals with

चिTo draw whatever, become that. I believe deeply in such an emotive transformation. In becoming one with the ones, you reach towards a becoming one with the other and in the One. This project tapped my narrative compositional ability at a point when Here is a project that give a small glimpse of what I can do. 

Become one with bears and pines, and …! In becoming one with the ones (elements in visual narratives), you reach towards a becoming one with the other (collaborator) and in the One. 

In desiring oneness with the ones (elements) you reach towards being one with the other (a collaborator), moving towards the One. 

Canon for Bears and Ponderosa Pines “In this new and startling collection, Diane Frank’s poems transcend not just genres but entire dimensions. When she speaks to J.S. Bach, she really means it and when Bach speaks back, she listens — entirely — the way certain moths perceive sound via their whole body, even their wings. How is this accomplished? It will seem to come through the poems themselves — their music, tonal qualities and subjects, yet it goes even deeper as it pushes up like duende through the soles of your feet. The voice is declarative, emphatic, spirit driven. She will tell you, ‘When a buffalo enters your dream, / listen for arpeggio hooves, / the weight of music, / a copper moon / above a vanishing prairie’ and you will, you must listen.” —Lois P. Jones, author of Night Ladder, Radio Host, KPFK’s Poets Café

Is!

Recently, in response to an interest in my art I could barely remember my artistic labor having a Christian component! What happened? Realized now, that I see what I do as catholic — universal. Liberal in embrace and acceptance, not the liberal connotation du jour. I see myself as a Hindu Christian. So Christ crucified on a banyan tree with a baby monkey keeping anguished watch is equally or more relevant to non-Christians. True, it will be seen as Christian, steeped as it is in its realization and rootedness in faith, although it never occurred to me that it was singularly Christian art. In the broadest sense which frighteningly envelope everything, I reflect on ideas at the intersection of religion, sexuality and consciousness. In standing at the crossroads I see as suggested in Jeremiah 6:16: Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein — conduits towards comprehension from various quarters. That is my reading. 

Watching shadows from within the shadows_PICK

On pickpockets.
As a child, I was gentle and respectful of elders who to my eyes was every person who had that demeanor of being in charge. It was later, way into my forties that the realized that this quality was a developmental excess which in the ensuing years had morphed into other 
aberrations that affects emotions ones view of others. 
My father encouraged and helped me board the train. I was timorous timid child and secured a place in the crowded VT Local. The overhead train light hardly shed any illumination below the  commuters necks, shouldering their burdens. Those furrowed face lined with 

I noticed a hand reached from the effulgent inkiness as though it was some hand-headed creature; but catching the fierce eyes of the thief--the alarm stayed stuck in my throat. Overcome and lost. Father was very reasonable and did his best to get me to give up the fear which had suffused me. This terror, and the dread that followed became companions.

Shadowing women 
The creak of the bed, on which numerous hopes of a transitory release — a 
small taste of moksha, a fleeting transcendence from the body, achieved in 
the flesh. INTRA. Of aching pudendas stretching shadows to receive the rare beloved 
in many non-encounters. A beloved who belonged elsewhere, to someone else. 
Is this possible? 

Carting Fetuses to gain some paisa
The 

Dusk and dusky 
There is nothing like  


The seventh 
http://www.mizukan.org/shodo.htm
 http://www.vjcc.com/inside_12-03.htm

India ink.
Sauli, saulent. 

The spirit is the compelling force from within that exudes to the outside. 
In one who settles or walks seeking a spiritual path, or regards a chosen 
path as being a course of action for ones spirituality—the spirit will 
manifest itself, although it does not simply materialize; nor does it show 
up to make the notion any more real. The notion has to be one of surrender, 
acceptance, a commitment. 

What is Shodo. Boku-ju, Line, pressure, balance, form, Positive an 
dnegative. What prompts. 
 Rinsho, Kana and Tenkoku.
Rinsho develops intuition, awareness, 

Kana, in mixed form called Chowatai is when in the same piece one write in 
Kanji and kana (hiragana)
Isha devata. Gram Devata. Tapping and making intuition. 
http://pages.prodigy.net/david_wolfe/pmaa/Japanese_terms_S.html

Most of what we do is for ourselves. It could be our personal practices as 
in a Way which we practice. In time we begin to see, or must hope to see our 
practices as larger than ourselves, yet nothing more nor less than what we 
thought at first. When our eyes set themselves on something beautiful the 
muscles essentially relax although they pulse. All it movement. When and if 
we see the sublime, our body tautens, the sight evokes awe and fear, even if 
be a tinge of facing the unknown. In both these situations, or if one was 
blessed by such experiences the solitary would perhaps stay in equanimity. 
One cannot decide to be so. Ones being has become such or has to become 
such. To stay in equanimity is to stare at what time places in front of us, 
what it subjects us to. Not stare as in gawk, but stare as in commune, in 
realizing that you are a part of infinitude, and are ready to accept the 
charge handed to you, even if that means knowing that ones time will cease, 
and yet not cease. One may be a long way off from realizing this, but its is 
in our bones. My purpose is to hold hands, and in the rare case to break 
bonds, although I shy from the latter.

We are, “a by-product,” as a good friend of mine says “of a lot of 
productivity”—of productive energy on the part of many others. The spirit is 
the shield and pointing towards salvation. This may come across as a very 
Semitic notion. I see it a little differently; as available to all. We must 
commit ourselves. Not to die, but an acceptance to what lies ahead and 
around; so in that sense committing to death. Much like being in the center 
of centers. You are not seeking death, but seeking your nature. Looking for who 
you are. Being one with the light as it shines upon you, as it awakens you, 
as it awakens us to sensitivities, in awareness. 

www.flickr.com/photos/venantius/sets
venantius.pinto@gmail.com

“Dear Venantius J,
Thank you for submitting your work to Illustration Daily. The editorial board has decided to publish your illustration and it is now on the website.”

WOOT! Lord, you do have a plan for me don’t you? ¡WOOT! Señor, tienes un plan para mí, ¿verdad?