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Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: Venus

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Basically, I Have Nothing To Wear

24 Monday Feb 2020

Tags

Blenheim Installation, nothing to wear, Venus

blenheim art 2

Photo and title by Candia

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Posted by Candia | Filed under Architecture, art, Fashion, Humour, Personal, Photography, Satire

≈ 2 Comments

Jeff Koons at The Ashmolean

09 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Candia in art, Celebrities, Humour, mythology, Personal, Photography, Satire

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Tags

Ashmolean, Jeff Koons, kitsch, Venus

IMG_0082

koons bling 2
Koons 3
Koons 7

                           and- yes- I kitsched- the Venus up!

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Diesel Recall

28 Friday Apr 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Environment, Humour, Industries, Literature, News, Poetry, Satire, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bodleian, diesel, Douce, re-call, Venus, Volkswagen

 

 

(Venus Rides her Chariot: bodl_Douce 195; orig

uploaded by Tony Harrison)

 

Volkswagen

managed to adapt

their diesels.

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Painshill (Vernal Equinox, 2017)

25 Tuesday Apr 2017

Posted by Candia in Architecture, History, Horticulture, Humour, mythology, Nature, Nostalgia, Poetry, Romance, Sculpture, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Apollo, Bacchus, Canadian Goose, Genius of the place, Gianbologna, Gothic tower, grotto, Hamilton, Matthew Arnold, Mercury, Painshill, River Mole, Romantic landscape, Venus, Zeus

( The ‘Abbey’  WyrdLight.com; Antony McCallum, 2007

transferred to Commons from Wikipaedia by Kurpfalzbilder)

 

 

At Painshill, absence rather than presence

is tangible.  Arnold’s cottage now gone;

no Temple of Bacchus: at least, not yet

(so no iconographical message

from Apollo, Mercury, Venus, Zeus);

the Gothic Tower and Crystal Grotto closed-

the latter seems to have lost its sparkle;

the former lost its marbles long ago.

A middle-aged couple are unable

to have a sly snog behind a pillar,

as I appear on cue with a camera,

desecrating a Romantic landscape;

ready to immortalise an abbey

that never was….

…..I forgot to take note

of one of Europe’s most lofty cedars;

I managed to miss the Gianbologna;

was underwhelmed by the mausoleum’s

empty, uncommemorative niches.

I can’t say that I noticed the cork tree

and walked around a silver, ghost-like Mole,

but saw no gentlemen in silk breeches

pop myopic heads up from mounds of earth.

Even the hermit scarpered to the pub,

with his employer’s seven hundred quid

and Hamilton himself retired to Bath.

Smoke spiralled from branches that left bare stumps;

no doves hovered over The Chinese Bridge;

nomads had vacated the ornate tent

and pushchair-strolling mothers ignored me.

 

But though there was no fruit left on the vine

and there were no fish on the angler’s line;

the cascade was a desultory drip

and I trod on Canadian Goose shit,

yet the Genius of the Place reached out and

touched my heart with elegant green fingers.

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New Master

24 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by Candia in Arts, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Christ, Dora Maar, George Braque, Guernica, Pablo Picasso, Picasso's Blue Period, Venus

Pablo Picasso 1962

My blue period arose because few

pigments were in the range I could afford.

I prematurely blossomed with rose-hued

saltimbanques.  Those dull, bullish critics gored

other artists, but I escaped attack:

a skilful matador…Who loved me best?

I’d say no woman, but my old friend, Braque.

When lovers left, they could, in truth, attest

I missed their dogs more than I missed them.  Did

I propose to Gaby?  I don’t know.  War,

its ghastly preoccupations, outbid

her for my attention.  Yes, caviare

was Olga’s favourite; I preferred sausage-

Catalan- and beans.  She wanted her face

recognisable; to be centre stage:

wanted too much from me, in any case.

her image had by then begun to fade:

I was playing with Dora Maar (a mouse),

slashing Guernica with a razor blade,

careless of mistress, as careless of spouse.

Woman becomes a suffering machine.

Some Nazis asked me: “Did you do this art?”

I replied: “No. You did.”  When black with spleen,

Francoise and I could claw each other’s heart.

She who had resembled Venus became

Christ.  Martyr.  She left me: it was her loss.

She’d been expert at apportioning blame:

“Who was it then who put me on the cross?”

I did, but, so doing, set her apart:

made her immortal in the realm of Art.

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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