Saturday, June 13, 2015

towards and towards

weak lamp and strong silent space
the little cabin hidden in the backward behind grape tree and bushes exposes its red bricks and opened window to breath the cold air of the night

 i don't know my name, can't discover how it has been written beyond the deep blue

it is a priceless privilege to barefooted walk in dark among ferns and sleeping white flowers to reach the cabin where the mountain bike is kept and work on it.... it is so cold this night .... i had to take my shirt off and feel every detail of the low temperature getting into my skin.
"at dawn i ride"
holding greasy tools i pray to Jesus to keep His strong hand over me as He has always done protecting, washing me

dog licks his paw and its sound is blended with the steam of the tea cup.

...after many hills, steam coming out of my mouth, death in its many forms was faced, suppressed and ignored.
sky getting lighter, clouds, drizzle. what not to love about it?
trees trees trees they are all singing perfumes, as the fresh earth around my warm green black flannel shirt and celeste blue helmet.  

the front wheel is so slippery on the mud, here I go one more downhill over the roots and rocks with success.
amen! i do praise the Lord for this.

i must to pass by and stop to see

that swiss wooden house among pine trees with little hearts sculpted on the balcony and green door.
i must to pass by that grey stone house that looks like a little castle.
i must to pass by the red brick house with big window that is for sale and one day will be mine.
i must to pass by those eucalyptus.
i must to pass by the anglican cathedral and the Scandinavian luteran church because they are so beautiful.
before to head to the trail.
as I always do.

the front wheel is so slippery on the mud, here I go one more downhill over the roots and rocks with success.
amen! i do praise the Lord for this.

capybaras awaken already as the monkeys and birds.... if it was sunny the lizards and snakes would be searching for the early sunshine.  but they hide from me anyway. you understand it as you want.

what am i up to? why am i doing this?
Blitzkrieg over myself, space and time.
with one hand I play with my dog..... i pray the psalm because it is true and never fails.
i am safe and save.

do you see this silence? is the deep breath before "_____"

wear brown hiking boots, put on:
towards and towards.
towards and towards
towards and towards
towards and towards 

Monday, February 17, 2014

23; one to six that's my number.

23; one to six that's my number.
23; one to six that's my number.

passing under saguis - eke eke eke... read Ecclesiastes

Feeling the taste of every texture in the air. It is so hot. All thoughts melt under the weather. 
No purpose before or after each step. So I ride... the stag any hunter will ever catch.  
Nowhere is a place too close, I go further.  
Here is the body in heat ready for the Rapture, the spirit ready for Heaven and today's dreams ready to be left behind with its vanity.  

This house is going to be mine soon, I don't know how but it will.  

A list of things to do. 
A list of things to hate.
A list of things to juuuust dislike. 
Nothing ever changes and oh Lord I am still so blessed.  
Saguis and micos and capivaras and my bicycle among trees when I am fast enough to escape the buildings.  

South America is calling: don't understand what it says, "no hablo su idioma".  
Rest of the world is calling: avoid to listen, it is ugly and desperate." you lie and didn't treat me well, you can't say anything anymore". 
Mein Welt is calling: ich bin Der Welter Koning, but I am tired to dream.  
God is calling: Sir, i've done what i could, sorry, it isn't good enough, i know. please keep your hand on my life, hope you still love me.  

last night I saw a picture of a nice guy from rio de janeiro, was an early 60's image of a bossanova young man in his swimwear, no shirt or shoes or ornaments, riding a bicycle on the beach in front of the sea under the summer's brazilian sun, smiling and looking to the girls in bikinis. The bike had high handlebars which allowed him to be very erect on the saddle, proud and enjoying the beautiful landscape as the world belonged to him. the image had dignity and made me happy.  
but I  laughed when I compared with my situation here Sao Paulo 50 years later riding a bicycle all dressed up in the crazy traffic of congested avenues and on the high speed roads. speeding up to save my life, focused on a target, not looking to the sides, curved over drop bars, curved over my own body, trying to overcome myself in every second. no rest, no mercy for failures. reaching for blessings and building new ways.   
I ride my bike the exactly same way I paint. the exactly same way I pray.  
And when I talk about my painting process I always start saying:" so I woke up early this morning and went to  the studio......" 
So I woke up early this morning.... 
to pedal hard, and harder. eke eke eke, to sweat all the toxins, and the good things too, to expel the world, all the references, thoughts and feelings. To expel myself.  
expel myself expel myself.  
emptiness towards eternity.   

So when you ask me if I am painting or working. 
no, yes, well... to me there is absolute no difference between to paint to pray and to ride a bicycle.  

 was made a being with bifocal sight and capacity to build.  
 use different weapons to reach the same target.  
 am a stag among trees and streets but I am a hunter.  
to know myself, to overcome myself, to get rid of myself. towards God. 

what difference does it make... what I am doing?  
as everything done on this world is only vanity.  
Read Ecclesiastes.


( image of the sagui taken from this site :  ) 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

a source of spiritual misery. - by Caio Fern

Oh, the electricity must to be saved this month. Let's only use flash lights I bought for camping that didn't happen yet, it is late of night and will make the neighbors freak out thinking there is a thief at home.

She is skinny and beautiful but since when it is secrete the fact men like me have a strong preference for more fleshy women?

I could be quite in my corner pretending I am one of them but I had to take risks. I know what you are talking behind my back. I know because others have said the same before. It is your lack of authenticity that makes you a stranger to me, not what you think or do. I know what it leads to... I've survived many times.

As long as I understood, Jesus said the sons of the world are smart for the things of this world but the sons of God aren't so much. It only proves to Whom all my existence belongs. I don't know what to do with myself and I am too old to learn new tricks. I don't know how to survive and the fact I am alive proves that miracles happen every single day all the time.

It is all very disappointing because everything I can do with a group I do much better and faster alone. So I put the helmet on and one of my old flannel shirts. I face the cold wind and never look back listening to music composed and recorded in distant countries because they remind me of the life I don't have, but share the feelings. After many kilometers: DAWN.

Dawn is never glamorous or pretty as I can't see it through buildings and other concrete constructions. It is more like an intuition that something new is up to start. And in fact something new starts... but nothing changes. How can something new starts if the old things never get finished? So.....

You leave home with faith that in some corner someone will notice you and give you a chance to live with dignity and be loved. You do many things to force it to happen, you do all the right things and the wrong things, you go to all the kinds of places and cross the world. After so many years you only go back home and take your shoes off saying to yourself tomorrow is a new day, who knows, brush your teeth before to go to bed.

She is skinny and beautiful. And so smart and mature for her age.... but is still too young for me. She wants to experiment things I am already tired to know. She has to pass by situations I don't want to pass anymore and I hated when it happened. We can't be together. She says she loves me, she doesn't, she loves the lies I told her and will never confess.

It is weird to see the world by this angle. Everything is so far from this remote flipped over south side. What is the difference between watching a movie with Hobbits or a documentary about the global economy? So it is nice to wear my best suit with English cut to ride a Chinese bike listening to Swiss musik being an German-Italian guy with Portuguese last name in a South American country going to a Japanese supermarket buying Brazilian supplies and prepare Bavarian food throwing bites to my Tibetan dogs while watching North American sitcoms. What does it mean? Nothing. Obvious identity is for cowards.

ohhh. But I am a coward. Guilty. As every man I have my list of necessities. Things I must to conquer in this life. Recently I realized all my dreams aren't less silly and useless than the list of toys I used to do for Christmas when was a children.  I don't want to face the fact all I need for real is death and salvation. Who is brave enough to embrace this? Death is natural, but salvation.... Would I recognize real light if I see it? Would I see it anyway?

So it is Saturday-Sunday past midnight and soon I will go out to ride, among drizzle, junks, drunk drivers, dirt, and whores. Among sin and crimes the air is fresher to brief and easier to run. Sure I fear for myself. There is always a chance to be my last ride, breath and sight. I am a stag in the forest, not a predator even if I run and observe as a ranger.

It is funny because at 8:00 AM a group of cyclists will be gathered to run all down town, when it is warm and safe. I will be there pretending I am one of them, ignoring what they say behind my back. Hi, you know my name and I am one of you. My lies never end. My body will be exhausted and they will be fat and lazy after breakfasts complain it is too early for a Sunday and are still feeling asleep.  I just want an excuse to ride a little bit more, this time feeling safe even if it is all fake.

List of things I must to conquer in this life. Doesn’t matter the results, any idea related to it is a source of spiritual misery.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

All the arrogance of my hands - by Caio Fern.

One more hot shower in a cold day and I will be done before to face the tea and the drizzle out there.

The dogs stink and my house has a light aroma of  Dijon Mustard, Einsbein and feet. The grey light coming through the not so opened window makes it perfect.
It is all the same over the dark brow furniture and that is what I fought so much for. Have my prayers been answered already?

If should I ride the bike with my rain coat or take the subway with my umbrella, if should I stay home pretending I am doing something useful or dig myself under the blanket.....only the extension of my chest will be able to say.

So.... if I looked for that specific kind of warm golden skin and breasts was because I only wanted protection while pretended I was the Alfa Male of the situation. She was supposed to worthship me in a cozy presence while I hold her in my arms saying everything would be fine as it was all I wanted so much to hear my entire life.

Oh yes yes yes my dear, I know more than every one could......  let's not forget how blessed I am for have been so cursed and never, never whisper or murmur again. One day the sea will be opened and all the difference will be made. I know the promises and  I know my wishes, and... I know very well what I am capable to do, you don't have to repeat it all over again. Haven't I kept myself faithful to all this?

All the arrogance of my hands and smiles come from my humble nature, see, it is very naive if you look into my eyes at least once.
In the shower I realized that only exist three kinds of women in this world : 
 - The ones who throw themselves on me.  
 - The ones who masturbate thinking of me.  
 - And the ones who masturbate thinking about me and then throw themselves on me.  
Yeah, I know I am handsome.

When I woke up this morning I felt like a grey bubble filled with all the traumas and negativity of my life was been taking out of my body and soul for good. Then I fell asleep again. Then I woke up almost noon. Then I noticed it was drizzling. Then the aquarium fishes needed to be fed. Then I felt cold and dirt. Then I forgot all I was supposed to do in my life. Then I was free. Then I remembered all my life was supposed to be and isn't. Then I was miserable again. 

It is so peaceful to be a failure in flesh holding a hot mug in the cold afternoon while all the success out there in the world struggles so hard to keep their miserable prosperity.
Let me just sit here in front of my bike leaned against the wall while the harry red dog lies on my feet  working on his new bone. I quit the world again, I am free for today.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

welter schaferhund: Caio Fern, BOM PERFEITO E AGRADAVEL, 2013, acrylic on canvas, Good perfect and enjoyable

welter schaferhund: Caio Fern, BOM PERFEITO E AGRADAVEL, 2013, acrylic on canvas, Good perfect and enjoyable:

I confess it is only me ..............................and I almost don't mind

The living room smells and I am part of it.  
Have hiking boots for distant mountain tracks I don't even know on. 
Helmet on, gloves on, camping backpack on, favorite flannel shirt on, pants on, thick socks on, flash lights on, Swiss Army knife on.  

Who is the one 
Who promised to forget all the pretty songs 
Who rides its hybrid bike alone 
Who goes to church as holding a gun 
Who has green tea in front of an aquarium with wooden tea water and uber filled with green moss  
Who listens the dogs barking loud 
Who prefers when the days are cold 
Who the favorite color is green but says it is blue  
.......and eats apples with a cup of cold milk standing in the backyard looking up trying to find a piece of sky? 

I confess it is me 
I confess it is me 
I confess it is only me. 
...................................and I almost don't care.  

Tons of homemade sauerkraut again.  
Kept in sterilized jars of glass piled inside the wooden cupboard. 
The trees were all planted only at the other side of the city.  
Does anyone truly believe South America exists?  

I am tense balancing my life over fragile two wheels. 
Paranoid about cars and buses coming against me 
And homeless crack junkies watching me as hounds from the sidewalk. 
It is so nice...calm and quiet.. and full of life 
Speeding up under drizzle and rain and darkness and silence with no witness for crimes.   
So lonely only wishing to leave here fast and escape with no harm.  

Who is the one 
Who has a fake German watch and an authentic Italian tie 
Who doesn't clean the house very well 
Who paints self portraits different of how he looks like to see it for real 
Who collects pictures of tiny green houses and dream 
Who prays to Jesus with Faith 
Who keeps Java Moss in mugs in the windows of the bedrooms 
Who lives in Sao Paulo loving places as Wisconsin as it was London 
Who loves German Shepherds living with four Lhasa Apsos  
Who doesn't care for English speaking but is incapable to write in its own language   
Who wears DolceandGabbana fragrance to buy fruits because may have hot girls there 
Who is deeply grateful for everything moments before to buy another lottery ticket 
.......and eats apples with a cup of cold milk standing in the backyard looking up trying to find a piece of sky? 

I confess it is me 
I confess it is me 
I confess it is only me 
..............................and I almost don't mind.  

Friday, December 28, 2012

Wild Life means a little yellow box. The Wisconsin- Bournemouth- São Paulo Connection.

So it means all started because I friend of mine sent a message from Wisconsin telling me about a deer who had died hit by a car in front of her house, the carcass was right on her front lawn and the county for weeks didn't send anyone to take it from there.  
Telling me this novel about how to make the county take a dead deer carcass from your lawn we talked a lot about the deer situation on the green state of Wisconsin. Go Packs !!!!!  
It got in my mind and I pretty much had to start to paint , for some reason painting is a tool I use to talk to myself.  
All the rest you saw on the earlier posts, for one month or more I have painted using the deer theme and writing about this particular experience : deer, painting, my life's story.  
It is funny, up there in the frozen Wisconsin comes news which touch me deeper than the facts surrounding my life here, in the hot tropics. And talking about tropics, I have tried to paint for four days... It is too hot to make any move, the canvasses has been prepared and all is in my mind, but when I get into my studio... ohh noooo... I only feel like to take an uber cold tea or fresh fruit juice. I am not complaining , it must to me an unconscious excuse to postpone the battle that is the act of painting for me . Ahhhhh... the frozen lands up north seem to be so tempting now.  
Sometimes is the extremely opposite that is able to show the truth of us and open hidden understandings.  God bless the extremely opposite of our particular and earthly nature.  

But the story doesn't end here. This friend of mine, Sandy, insisted a couple of times " Caio, here we don't say Stag, we say Buck".  
Yes, it is right and I intend to make a " Buck" painting one day, very soon. I want very much to do it as still have to dive deeper into this feeling.  
But let me tell the Stag Story : As you know English isn't my first or not even second language. Is it the third ? There was me, 2007, after have lived in London I started to travel by Great Britain till a girl invite me to live with her and her girl friend at her apartment in a lovely south shore little town named Bournemouth. I even got a two weeks job there in one of the dozens night clubs. The most expensive one named 2020, I got the black t-shirts and still wear it today, hahaha.  
One day coming back from the beach I had to pass by the down town as it was the way to the apartment I was staying as guest when I looked to the floor and found an used little box of matches which you see the pictures on this post.  
I read "stag", well my English skills are only  good for surviving and at the time I decided to read all Tolkien's work, starting by Silmarillion which I was reading exactly at the time, my idea was if my English sucks I will start to read this language by what everybody says that is very hard, hahahah, it didn't help me at all, as you can see .  
But  "stag", what is this?  Arriving at the apartment I took a dictionary and saw the meaning. That is the reason I chose to use this world.  
Remember... here in Sao Paulo we have absolute anything related with the deer culture. It is completely an alien and exotic concept for the local life style. So if I had the necessity to paint because of this subject and the stories told me from North, I would use the word I was familiar with as my only personal experiences with deer are from Europe and England. Even the paintings I made in 2008 and 2009 portraiting deers are from models I saw and photographed there in the old land.  
About this old box of matches, I took it with me all the way, it became my bookmark till today, started marking the pages of Silmarillion and all the books I have read since then. Yes, I have it by my side now and took these pictures a couple of days ago as I intended to post about, it would be hanged and glued on the painting I wrote the word Stag... but I decided to keep as a bookmark.  
It is pretty, isn't it?  
the deer photo was taken by Sandy. 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Painting, Dream, Free, Deer, Blood, Jesus, Nazis, Nephilim, Experiences, German, Brazilian, English. It is getting clear now.

Yesterday I was talking to my dear friend “golden angel” and all of sudden mylast paintings have been much clear to me, the meanings and the facts surrounding them.
Below is the explanation I gave to her about what have happened these days in my studio and explanation about the last 4  or 5 paintings I’ve made:
I spent the entire morning in the studio burning my brain to figure out a way to compose what I have in mind. I think I got.
One or two nights ago I had many dreams, weird ones. I woke up the whole night because of them… not nightmares, only weird. In the morning I woke up and started to write a dialog. I want to write this dialog on the canvas after to finish the painting. It is weird and quite evil but has a good end. It is about Jesus, Nazis, the Nephilims (Giants) of the book of Genesis, genetic experiences, sex, blood lines, South America, but all in very few lines and I don’t think people will notice it all. But will all be there very clear. I can’t explain. The title of the work will be Stag, following the works I am doing where I write words deer related….. venison, fawn, doe and now stag. I see this dialog as a way to show I got rid of all the past and devils haunting my life.

- venison was about flesh and the fact I am eating meat now. 
- fawn, like a rebirth, a new hope and life. 
- Doe was about fatality of life. 
- Stag will be about blood. The blood of Jesus, the blood lines described in the Bible form Adan to Jesus and the nephilims' decendency, and the nazis experiment and ideals about a perfect bood line... blood in general, the animal blood in us and the importance it has had during all the History incluring to God.   

———————below is the dialog I intend to work on my next painting —————————————————————–
Stag  - A South American dialogue between a Traditional Nazi ( Joseph Mengele’s assistant’s granddaughter ) and a Reborn Fundamentalist Christian painter.
- Penis, neck and chest used to bleed like a hunted stag.
- It has been a trophy, Mein Lieber.
- Eu, Ich.. I mean, I am not.
- Isn’t you who decidesss.
- Warum werent sie verhaftet, wenn in diesem Teil der Welt angekommen? Desse lado do mundo ?
- Speak only the devil’s language which came from North.
- Eu don’t know it very well…prefiro na lingua que eu penso.
- Isn’t you who choosesss. But for your comfort, me neither.
- Why weren’t they arrested when arrived to this side of the world?
- Their services and knowledge seemed to please and satisfy all parts involved here.
- Does my blood belong to their blood line?
- Nein, you came from their victims.
- Am I one of their experiments?
- Sie sind nicht.
- Because I had one very strong genetic characteristic of their experiments.
- If you say so… let’s call it a coincidence.
- Coincidence isn’t a very scientific or spiritual term, is it? And stop to play with your thighs in front of me.
- I know your weakness.
- You are not the Frau I am supposed to take.
- Oh, I am sorry. Are you supposed to take only one now? We both know you don’t like this rule, Stag.
- When Jesus called I answered. Now I am washed in His blood. They can’t touch me anymore.
- Blood blood blood. It is all about blood….. and blood lines.
- Not even you are able to touch me. Stop to hunt. Nobody can.
- It is all about blood line. Has been since from the very beginning, from Adam.
- I don’t care. I am free. Eu sou livre.
- Stag.
- He made me much more than this. Essa foi nossa ultima conversa e contato. Eu te lanço no abismo, Nephilim, junto com sua suastica. ( That was our last conversation and contact. I throw you into the abyss, Nephilim*, along with your swastika ).
*The Nephilim were the offspring of the “sons of God” ( fallen Angels ) and the “daughters of men” according to Genesis 6:4, a new breed not approved by God.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Caixa Lote Magazine - pretty good site. Thank you. The Sao Paulo's art magazine Caixa Lote has done a pretty nice work supporting my paintings... This time it is on their site. Thank you and Obrigado. I sincerely wish I was there to give you a big hug. Check their site and the link to the magazine, it has great local artists you wouldn't find so easily. Caixa Lote :

Wednesday, November 21, 2012



snap crack bite chew,  
Cracked my favorite Maß . Now I can drink cold white tea and swallow pieces of glass with taste of blood. Ice cubes too.  
border, fringe, brim, border, borderline, edging, skirt … it was made of gold, but I can’t melt it and make a ring for whom I love.  
I love no one. 
All is an endless new beginning where nothing real never happens.  
I was born too old for this.  
Now I am older and more naive, a perfect victim.
The perfect victim must to be frustrated and full of hope.  
Patterns should have been a better illusion. They are so comfortable.  
Now I have this fleshy spirit of Glory upon Dolce&Gabbanna bouquet around my sperm. Pour Homme. For Men. 
The taste of blood still lies in my mouth.  
I walk back home, to my almost totally broken Maß .   
I wish I could tell things, but this world became too cynic and it makes me ashamed for feeling feelings. 
If I use sarcasm it will be ok. 

So tomorrow I will try to wake up early and pretend I am not even depressed or offended or ashamed, paint all I feel the most sincere way possible and she won’t understand.  
She will see it, copy it, hang it, show it, like it and will never know what it means.  
And I will take a shower, wear my shirt with a comfortable pattern, tie my tie in a hot day, wear my favorite perfume and leave to work to pay my bills and maybe find a girl on the sidewalk who I can fall in love with.  
Melt the cracks of my Maß and make her a golden ring before it starts raining. 
, by Caio Fern.