Saturday, January 21, 2017

Monday, August 1, 2016

More Leaves of...




















Hurry, love, they are withering away
And our thin line is dead, it has gone viral
The shadows are longer and ancient dark
It will come, for black covers all notes

Leaves of the tree
For the healing, the place of light
In-between defined, not defined
Enoch has walked with God
Among the trees of the garden
Under the light in the park
We were taken to Hesperia
”The illness of youth spent
And gone away, to come back again”
For years I tried to have it, somehow it was
Almost there for us, but I have been too ill
To have it like them, and we could see
The feelings of worthlessness
Visiting the dreamlike atmospheres
Of Aurora and giving up

Baby, I could not sleep at all
I couldn't sleep because of the pain
May the living or dead Masters help

Still at the Night Café
And the more hearts are streaming
The more these cups will turn over
”You've been in a lot of trouble,
And nothing or no one could...”

Take a leave of abs(tin)ence
The whole year with no porn
A week with no coffee-like-script
Written on a painted landscape
For the Spirit in man, the higher worlds
Of poetry and sounds (A,B,C...)

The letters on a leaf, the plant
Green and brownish, or even grey
The branches are still there
It's a fallen world for a falling man
Read the mystical book of Adam
(To Enoch and Abraham)















Rest under this tree
The patriarch said to the guests
With friends like them, who know(s)
The shadow of your self, the nightside
And the Night Man (in holier poems)
”If the spirit is willing, or the flesh”
Every chalice of the Wrath of God
Waiting for this world in the end
Let the cups of our hearts be filled

Three seeds were given to the third son
And it grew on the father's grave
Flaming with words, and the Cherub
Or the other one guarding there, at the frontier
Heavenly rings and a bridge, the rod changing
To the gates, Royal Cavalry will be needed...
The same wood on the cross of your burdens
There is great wisdom in making a fool [of etc]
No mistake, it usually is quite something else
Than what we expected, while moving on

And who kept our thoughts lined with the streets
Even after all this yearning, praying to be a watcher
You had to see them fall to places that are not healthy
”So the Old French words were innocent and pure”
Who'll take the writers, give them a chance, a reading
All of these flowers, from the Medieval good (flor)
To the Modern evil (fleur), know the real state of things

It's a miracle that we're still here, being
And what we hope for, who will get it
Not us, but the ones after us
God, I tried to have it

No VII dreams would ever wait [7] in purple
And many of the songs were not redeemed
For the nights to come, the years

"But the pain has been with me too long;
Please, take this pain away, I have to ask"
Remind me of the water in our shoes again
How to see ourselves in the mirror of thinking
If memories have now melted, it's not just a walk
In the city, through the park, and my old street
Riverlike, a hundred flows reflecting
Pictures and things like our houses
The Light within, the Name

Aurora and Hesperia are psychiatric hospitals in Helsinki.
Cf. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Die Metamorphose der Pflanzen.
Seven purple dreams is an old song title (from July 1995).
Cf. Anki Lindquist's Låt blommorna dansa, Varjot etc.
V. Martin Heidegger's Vorträge und Aufsätze (Teil II).
Cf. Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass.

Written on the 29th - 31st of July, 2016

   














(All pictures taken by AF in September 2015, Töölö, Helsinki.)

Monday, April 25, 2016

Pax tibi Marce


(San Marco, Venice, in the winter light of January. They say it's the best time to go to Venice. Now who would believe?)

And peace be with you, too, Marcello Mastroianni (1924-1996). At the Venice Film Festival a year after his death there was a controversial scene acted out between his close ones. Around the same time I heard about the great actor himself. Mastroianni has helped me in difficult situations, with his Italian humour. I thank you, Marcello. Whenever I go to your old home country, I will drink my one-euro-espresso standing, not like those tourists who pay too much for a seat they don't really need. And the coffee is good, my God, it is all so good.

Monday, February 29, 2016

The Moves I-VII



It seems we have used various and popular cult(ure) forms such as "bands" etc in a way and with a content that is perhaps more related to the philosophy and history of the so-called high, contemporary or even performance art. Pop culture is less than 100 years old, and its time has already gone. The high culture began to lose its kingship in the sixties as is well documented (there are many quotations for that, but I'll just refer to my old favourite, Leonard Cohen, who sang about the sixties and the changing of poetry into pop songs - now, in the 21st century, it has begun to change into something else, once again). It is common knowledege that the "high" and "pop" cultures have lost their border lines long ago and the world is full of various crossover works having characteristics from both. But in our work(s) we have been dealing with some of the underlining themes behind a common thread that is found everywhere.


What I am referring to is very simple and extremely complicated at the same time. And no, we don't have a copyright to these things, no one does. For lack of a better word and to honour performance artists like Joseph Beuys, Roi Vaara and Erkki Pirtola, I have decided to call these works of art, simply, THE MOVES, in no particular order:

I) THE FIRST MOVE:
THIRST & The Never Heard Of TOUR (2007-2014)
Document / Site: "Music for birds and rabbits"

II) THE SECOND MOVE:
THE NAMELESS THIN YOUNG MEN
Document / Site "Handmade rock art"

III) THE THIRD MOVE:
OMNIUM GATHERUM (late 2000 - early 2006)
Document / Site "Wastrel coming home"

IV) THE FOURTH MOVE:
YE COLD HANDS: THE HOMECOMING
No Document or Site available,
except in booklet form (see Vaaka)

V) THE FIFTH MOVE:
VIRTA ZINE (Alternative journalism since 2004)
Document / Site "Virta-lehti"

VI) THE SIXTH MOVE:
SHRINES (Educational ambient)
Document / Site "Akritas 2007"

VII) THE SEVENTH MOVE:
LYRICS / FLOR & BLANCHEFLOR
Document / Site "Mythic poetry"

So, the MOVES have been social in one way or another, and this is only my point of view. It may not concern the whole "project" or "band" itself (as is all too obvious in the THIRD MOVE). By the same token, it does not prevent me from stating this. The "social sculpture" of Beuys is very much and always a part of it, we are individual artists and we are social beings in everything. I still owe my gratitude to the people responsible. You have made it real for me to make these themes real for you. And please forgive me, if this doesn't sound right. But it's the truth, and nothing.......

To conclude, I have to confess the traditional forms of "performance art" have never appealed to me that much, I have been more interested in the hidden meanings and spirit (or structural side). And these MOVES have needed years or even decades to be formed. They have taken place in a historical way, not so much as a performance that happens in a certain place at a certain time. In a sense, this is what makes them new? THE SECOND MOVE has needed over 20 years (with only a handful of events / gigs and three or four "records" to be heard, but it has been an ongoing process with quite visible results, too). Some other MOVES have been done in 5-7 years. They have needed a series of points or events to unfold "historically", and this unfolding may have happened through single "performances" that resemble contemporary art / popular culture. THE FIRST MOVE is a bit like that. Then there are more literal MOVES that have been made in and for the literary circles. With these words, I am merely stating what has actually happened (and everyone could see for themselves what has been said before in interviews etc - like these apologies, everything moves in the same flow, at least, well, more or less).


I MOVE: Where does "live performance" change into something else, or the other way around? The questions about (un)officiality, audience / performer etc. (Cf. from a concert played for birds and rabbits to performing on a "real" music festival, and everything in between, as is documented in the FIRST MOVE. The Russian bard culture versus the American pop culture. These are also anthropological questions and problems).

II-IV & VI MOVES: Where is the line in-between "a real band" and a musico-philosophical project, and why? How about the changing of band names, constantly, in order to prevent any kind of success in the material sense of the word? Or, could there be other reasons for doing that? What does it all mean, and where does it lead us? There are also numerous other questions and themes concerning these bands / projects (about staging and music theater forms, disco dancing in death metal etc), as[s] documented in the MOVES II-IV & VI.

V MOVE: This move concerning our Virta culture magazine is debatable and questionable, but it could be mentioned here, nevertheless. There may be different views about the whole project, but the same thing applies to all the bands as well (on many of the MOVES above). So, I have been part of this (together with Mikko Nenonen, Matti Rautaniemi and Tuukka Vartiainen, and many others), and my role has changed during the years. The idea and the name "Virta" came up in a conversation I had with Olli Koski already in 2000 (he is the one who invented it, and yes, he is the legendary SAK economist). Where is the line between a real and a false journalism, and why? Virta does not have a chief-editor, no manifesto either, and its very existence has been on the brink of an abyss most of the time.

VII MOVE: This one is the only quite literally conscious art work, and it has taken a lot of time, even more of strength, and most of whatever little money there ever was. Yes, I am exaggerating now, and purposefully so. Lyrics / Flor & Blancheflor was published in full colour with a real Finnish ISBN code, in 2013/2014, and it is the only Vaaka book officially available through internet (see AdLibris, Amazon etc). The price is close to terrible, and unfortunately I have not been able to decrease it. But the statement is what counts: where is the line between a real (published) book and something else, and why? For there are three different levels in Lyrics: 1) the handwritten original manuscript 2) the traditional printed bookform and 3) the electric, free copy. What is the line to be crossed, where a book becomes "real"? (Cf. in the old times all books were made by hand and they were single copies, and now we are living in a world where the printing machines have become antique - does not this open a new question concerning the origin and the birth of the BOOK itself?). I have also tried to promote handwriting as a therapeutic or pedagogical method. The Finnish Cultural Foundation has supported the making of this MOVE.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Wor(l)d Lyrics


















AUTUMN VERSES (January 2016)
(OR, LETTERS OF AUTUMN)

Ave Maria, Gardel and Bach
When early or late September falls on us
The rain everywhere, seen from the window
Of a moving tram, it's getting to my nerves
Confidence in melancholic and beautiful thinking
”It would be so easy to drown in this city”
I'm a loser, beloved, and a wishful man

Bad heretic and an archist
I never knew them, well, enough (to have)
The flower girls from the street, holding asters
All those who write "infernal and inferior poetry"
What happens when you tried too much and failed
In a poem or a place of hope, if the light is good
And the staff like a serpent, we're having our talks
”While the raindrops kept on fooling my head...”
For another man, another one lost in thoughts
(Un)certain of many things, no ghost writing
The old word called honesty, how is it
Ever so difficult to attain and keep

What and where have I written
How I've been afraid of things
That may come, lo, the demon of lust
And afraid of lies, that it's not real
For every other verse printed
All the things I've gone through
Weak and with hope(lessness)
”And there is porn for everyone”
(You who have suffered for us
Have mercy on us, amen)
Save us from these cares

Underground lines in the night
Of soul, what if I'm not a good man
Like them (the Manicheans and the Gnostics)
And you were not [t]here to heal my wounds
The verses of autumn had to come in March
Who ever thought there could be no more clichés
”I would try no more, having failed in all”
Whenever rain appears it's only angels' tears
And you are with me and every day is a good day
Pouring coffee to the ground, what else could there be
When the night is young, the night is young to spell
”With these letters of autumn, come again”
























And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.
-L.C. / A Thousand Kisses Deep

Nobody-Y- knows the trouble I've seen
Or my sorrow, and it's getting emptier
”How my cup will be overflowing.....”
Who never had a bad day in their lives
Who were terribly poor and pain ridden
Between the Devil and death itself
The boots were made of black leather
It's a long way back from the shadow
To what you are, but I forgot it, almost
In the never-emptying confluence
And thus I wrote to a friend of mine
Who had called me so long ago
Having found me from that park
Who gave me a helping hand, kindly
For I was near the edge of no return
”Autumn dying ends, it has an end
With all the lyrics that came in July”
How we shared a few things to recall
When autumn died again, this part would be
Crossing through, cross over the summer
To thank once more, yes, another chance

Every day is a good day and you are with me
Every day is a good day, but (why) are you with me

And what a relief it is after all
To realize that I don't have to know
"If the letters of autumn come again..."
Still, it's getting to my nerves, baby
For there is night, and there's night
They have really nothing in common
And the crazy nights were elsewhere
I'm listening to the older music now
From a thousand Marys to Mathilda
Lord, I (don't) try, oh (not) to try again
”And there is porn for all of us”
The copper leaf will remind me
Gleaming red, yellow and golden
I could let our tears of December
Merge into the(se) raindrops, like circles
They would become one with the rain
”It has been so easy to drown in this city”
The sad or happier tears brought by the wind
No, don't worry, they have to be kept
Falling to the piece of their master
To bless the remains of that place
A world in two floors, to cast (no more)
Autumnal verses for a romance in the night
The ground floor, by the window

December tears is an old song title (from 1996).
The Hebrew letter Tet resembles a cup or a serpent.
Cf. Paul Hindemith's Mathis der Maler and Das Marienleben.

(The copper leaf was made by AF. The book is my new collection of poetry, Wor(l)d Lyrics. Photographs were taken by Laura Vilva.)

Friday, April 3, 2015

Spiritual Apology



On a beautiful Greek island in September 2007. Picture taken by AF, with many kinds of apologies.

It has been said that even in the most obscure instinct or gut feeling there may be a glimpse of intuition, but in its purest form intuitive consciousness is about love, knowledge and will (not contrary to what "spiritual thinking" means in esse). Quite a few people have written about the subject, and the views differ of course. I believe there will be no harm done as long as we keep in mind that Intuition has been crowned as "the highest consciousness man could achieve here on earth". I think it is all the more good to know, since intuition is often understood the other way around. But so it is, with things like this. However, "it's nothing too serious that a little spiritual apologia could not undo", as the saying goes. #The Preacher

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

The Eagle & The Homecoming


YE COLD HANDS: THE HOMECOMING

This collection of lyrics was originally sketched out for Omnium Gatherum's album "III", but in the end it would become something else altogether. Meanwhile, I tried for years with different musicians, to make a little Bon Jovian thrash metal side project. Finally I realized it was not meant to be like that. So this booklet is a new kind of.......

Rap / Spoken Word stand up COLD HAND PROGRAM? I still got my black boots, leather jeans and the Hungarian horse whip. At least it's good / bad olden time Written Word 19th century Wild West no quality newspaper man style in black and white, with photographs and a saddle form drawing, too. But if that doesn't satisfy you, I guess a reference to the dark nineties will make it happen. And if none of this banged a drum, I'll have to say it's a humble, poor and lonesome collection of Unlucky Luke's memories of dirty places and times. The age-old work needed a seal. Nothing more.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/antti-filppu/ye-cold-hands-the-homecoming/paperback/product-21976410.html

Check out the free preview for the whole booklet. I hope it serves you well, whether it's / you're good, bad or ugly. After all,  it's (not) only rock and roll.

ZINE + SINETTI (seal) = ZINETTI