Sunday, May 3, 2020

May the meek inherit something

Why is India spending money showering petals on hospitals but making workers pay for train tickets?
A migrant worker on a special train headed to Agra from Sabarmati Railway Station amid the Corona-19 lockdown.
Sam Panthaky/AFP
Image by Sam Panthaky/AFP from the article at link above

It is staggering that a State which talks highfalutin ideals cannot do right by its poorest citizens in getting them home under the rigors of the pandemic without squeezing their pockets. What is it about us Indians where we are loathe to regard the less fortunate, those who labor in hard and trying circumstances, or are victims of their birth and other extenuating circumstances.

This article in reminded me of brought to mind the mindset of someone from my school, who recently said in an online group; and I paraphrase: that he believes everything should be earned, that nothing is for free or ought to be, to emphatically mean, no free lunch. Its pains them to see any form of institutional welfare, other than of course crumbs in exceedingly dire situations. But they are the beneficiaries of State socialism. No logic to their madness and cruelty. Always falling prey to their brazen elan of hatred fueled with righteous bravado. And, these are serial zealots who prey on the weak but are ostensibly attuned to godliness! Its high time to reflect more on such hypocrisies.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

The New Old Fire :: Жаңа Ескі Алау :: El Fuego Viejo Nuevo

The New Old Fire :: Жаңа Ескі Алау :: El Fuego Viejo Nuevo

I appreciate it when somebody notices one of my works from the past, Here it was Martha Rodriguez. In my early works I was essentially gambling while developing an understanding the variables of creating in my own little way. Those being ideation, color, color across mediums, flows, layering; viscocities, of water, milk, honey, spittle, etc.,; the practiced ability to draw directly with paint, loosely in pencil, or not at all. A lot about how I approach paper is now "organic" or natural, and the newer works reflect the conglomeration of various forces and disciplines. I am unashamed to say that earlier and understandable fears have left me. I was not trained at all in painting, and barely in illustration. More coming in small essays on my blog, Venantiusaneum.

Image may contain: 1 person

Agradezco cuando alguien nota uno de mis trabajos del pasado, aquí fue Martha Rodríguez. En mis primeros trabajos, esencialmente estaba jugando mientras desarrollaba una comprensión de las variables de creación a mi manera. Los que son ideación, color, color a través de medios, flujos, capas; viscosidades de agua, leche, miel, saliva, etc. la habilidad practicada para dibujar directamente con pintura, sin apretar a lápiz, o nada en absoluto. Mucho sobre cómo abordo el papel ahora es "orgánico" o natural, y los trabajos más nuevos reflejan el conglomerado de varias fuerzas y disciplinas. No me avergüenzo de decir que los temores anteriores y comprensibles me han dejado. No estaba entrenado en pintura, y apenas en ilustración. Más en pequeños ensayos en mi blog, Venantiusaneum

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Tuesday, September 11, 2018

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

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.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

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. 

Thursday, February 15, 2018

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

Saturday, February 10, 2018

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


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.