Feast or Fedora?

Feast or Fedora? collage by douglas brent smith.

NOTES:

Not sure that this is finished. Maybe it needs color. Maybe some more drawing. For now, it is a collage with much more text than usual. It's of a time so long ago for me now that I think I'll just let it be. It's a page from a journal with a bit of beat sensibility baked in. Or burnt.

Here, at least. You never can tell when that will change...

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ocean walk

the cold wind blew uncut as ocean waves kicked stone gray jetties large gaping cracks between the rocks long suggestive pauses in our dialogue steps away a homasote haunted castle beyond a secret mist two blocks in the distance a single block between what we said and what pooled below the surface moist light beach sand crisp night air a buoy on the horizon this is your turf your haunting ground the smells salt sweet gulls and mussels and popcorn blended inseparable from that late summer visit our individual yet tethered travels returning each of us again to us in our own ocean so deep we may not swim beyond the mystery of the tingling unhinging phrases unstrung broken guitar strings a chipped boardwalk recollection stunning afternoon thru evening tones incidental sublimations consequential quirks of fate probing endless questions colored by scattered sighs barely audible experience unsaid unconsummated ties that clouds cover us and the moon that night one of our full moons stalking us ...

No Brain No Anxiety

We didn't have a garage, our neighbors, the Amy's did. Reverend Amy and his family lived next door. That is me sitting on the Chevy, wearing a Davy Crocket hat. I was a big Davy Crocket fan and had the theme song on a yellow 45 rpm record, which of course I sang to vigorously. What's your earliest memory from childhood? No Brain No Anxiety -- collage by Douglas Brent Smith, 1998, from Journal #33, Life In Progress

Man with Three Hands

Man with Three Hands - mixed media collage by Douglas Brent Smith, 1998, from Journal #33, Life In Progress

Photo: Autumn Beach

Analog Stereo Here We Go

Analog Stereo Here We Go - collage by douglas brent smith, from the journal Cutups, 1979

my father's house

my father's house bears change these days the voices bouncing off the walls are not those of my family but of strangers taking the space i once knew so well they speak with West Virginia accents strangely and treat me as a stranger there are few things left in my father's house to remind me of familial love to comfort me in shared history something has been transplanted and another thing supplanted my father's house which once was also mine is no longer even my father's house. douglas brent smith

Miniature

i became aware of the poetry of existance and of the artistry of her voice of her thin, gentle fingers and the honesty of her eyes 1973

one night at the wayside

"i saw your sister down at the Wayside cutting chances into glances like she was the original midnight dancer, understand?" "that may be true but she ain't been seen with you..." "my choice fella gotta whole lotta other visions on my mind this rocky eve, if you know what i mean..." "no kidding, i'm skidding on outta here before those two a.m. mayhem stratagems force their fire down my throat but catch this Mr. Bliss -- you keep your face away from my sister, mister..." "oh now, just ain't you too baaaaaaad?" -- douglas brent smith

Mustard Seed Theatre Company Logos

Notes: Peter, Harry, and I started a little touring theatre company we called the Mustard Seed Theatre Company. We had very limited success for an all too brief amount of time. I later revived the name at churches in Chicago, and I'm sure that any search would uncover other theatre companies bearing that name, but we loved it while we proudly wore it on our t-shirts. These sketches are modest attempts at logos. circa 1977-1978

Say What You Feel

Say What You Feel -- mixed media by douglas brent smith

douglas brent smith

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