welter schaferhund

How dare you, spoilt privileged , to deny me God, truth, beauty, and life ? I am going to built my own.

2012-02-17T01:47:00.021-02:00

( this isn't an anti american, english, anglicans in general, or anti-germans. anti-europeans or anti-brazilians post. This isn't even an anti-new age post.... this is a declaration of cultural freedom )

How dare you, spoilt privileged , to deny me God, truth, beauty, and life ?

I am going to built my own.

This is how I have been and felt for my entire life.

And art is the best way to illustrate this even if it happens in every single aspect of life.

Here I am, born, raised, living and working in Sao Paulo, a 100% modernist and contemporary city with 18 millions of citizens.

I understand when spoilt kids in Europe and USA grow up and start to defend contemporary aesthetical values as it was the new religion, and it is, it is for then. They abandoned God on the 19th century to embrace science and logic, but it failed demonstrating itself fragile and always easy to be manipulated..... so for the last decades they have embraced art as it was the salvation for human kind, not considering it as even more fragile and much easier to manipulate.

For the last decades we all have seen Anglican flags all over the world ( but made in everywhere by everyone) , telling us what to do with our lives and values.

It is the Anglican-hegemony-propaganda pretending that almost serves very well to their purposes but not even try to fake its results for me and who else is at this side of the wall.

If I was a naive kid in Europe or USA now I would probably be very impressed and very enthusiastic about contemporary aesthetical and philosophy now. I would say things like Warhol is brilliant or Ai Wei Wei is a hero.... as these are both examples of extremely boring and shallow people that knows very well its audience and don't have any ethic when it is about to manipulate then. And they do it so easily.

Being in Europe I imagined myself how it would be if I had been born and raised among those constructions that exist for centuries, everyday of my life looking to the same things, I

would be really bothered, nothing changes or can be changed, doesn't matter how beautiful it all is. So any proposal for new aesthetical value would sound like salvation to me , I would be really exited and enchanted for this call....How can a person like that resist this kind of seductuion: new trends for this , new treds for that... ?

But there is a problem, this current call is very seductive.. and what it offers? Individualism, not individuality, lack of connection with the world. Lack of harmony. Selfishness

With no harmony there is no life. Trust me.

Why do I tell you to trust me ? Because I believe on this ? No, because I live on the first world's lab.... everything the power of the first world potencies want to put in practice they test first here in South America decades before, so I can say I am living what is a considered good theory in Europe and USA. It is happening. Sao Paulo is a city entirely built on modernist and contemporary aesthetical and ethical values. Does it work ? No, for nobody, not for the poor and absolute not for the elites too. This city fails in every single aspect for everyone. Current architecture, current urbanism, current politic, current economy, current art... no life quality...... it isn't made for humans.

Ok, It all sounds like a very juvenile 6th grade's rant, and it is. And I know very serious people with huge public influence would say it is nonsense.

So why I am taking time to write about it all ?

My work. As you know everything in my life turns around my work and my work turns around everything in my life. Not the life proposed to me, but the life I built its own values and called Aterces Adiv-Mein Welt.

I do consider my work as a total lack of synchronicity with the current art. It because of the origins but much more because of the target it has, the values implicit and the intentions that build it.

The current art we can see today, made or not in Anglican countries by English descendant people it doesn't matter, it all obeys the Anglican values, has basically two origins... or it comes from Cezane and the early Parisiense modernism, including the north Americans abstract expressionism ( but of CIA propaganda they were instructed to do not confess it but only to present themselves as a fresh genuine new art ), or it comes from Goya and Bosh , resulting in all the pop art, the sensation generation and the actual gossip girls from NY, all very smart but absolute not intelligent or deep.

But can we call it Anglican art even having as origins other cultures from other centuries? Yes. It has the imperialism intention of imposition of values transforming artists, curators, art dealers and audience in puppets. They are all victms as we are. Today you can't even point fingers and blame someone. The difference is that someones have profit with it and others have its life ruined.

They have interest to destroy old values for three reasons. I am only going to talk about two. As the tird one and most important isn't for the public.

First - It is a culture that for centuries producing painting and art has never created a genius. Never a great artist, even now they want to convince us that Turner was a great painter. But the ones that understand anything about painting know he was a mere mediocre tentative of approaching of the real art made in Europe of that time. As everything English made all the centuries, always mediocre and provincial. Always a stolen imitation. So you can imagine an Empire that desires to have cultural influence all over the world must to feel a huge resentment of aesthetical values they were never able to dominate.

But England never was able to impose it's own view because never in its own history was able to develop its own view about visual art.... It is a literary culture, they are brilliant about literature, illustration, theater, concepts in general, this is the way they realize themselves as individuals, community, and the way they see what they call " the rest of the world". They do this very well. But not able to deal with the core of the expression itself. That is the reason they were never able to get even close of what Italians, Spanishs, Dutchs, Germans were able to produce.

Second - After the second war USA's Government had its biggest chance to definitely dominate the world and its own people politically, economically, military... and sure, culturally.

So comes the CIA making a huge propaganda in Venice biennial and all the art magazines of the world , and not exclusively art, as Times magazine, using as puppets these poor tortured artists that all they wanted was to be like the modernists in Paris. And Pollock was the main puppet . The big message was: " Europe is destroyed and anachronistic , they are dead old fashioned and dephased. America is the new deal, we are the real sophistication and future. Or you agree and admire us or you are wrong and will be expelled from the map". Well, abstract expressionism didn't turn very well, did it ? It pleased the Manhattan's elite very well and then what ? Pollock destroyed itself as knew that had created not a new form of expression but only a formula and now didn't know how to get rid of it, Kooning proved to be only a fool's court. All the others killed thenselves or were forgotten and today have absolute no relevance for artists that have any real search in their lives. Today still have this so dramatically and pathetic effort to present Rothko as a real genius, well, no doubt he was 100 better and deeper than Pollock, but really , if you are not an easily manipulated person by critics and art market, do you really care for his work, will you really leave your house, take any transportation and go to an art institution to only see his work? By the way, was worthshiped by institutions of his time and everyone that produces institutional art today has him as a god, what is extremely suspicious. And I say this because I like his work.

All this for what ? To destroy aesthetical values that anglicans were never , in more than one thousand of years , able to deal with and become the heads of this so called visual art world .

Still it was all too romantic, too European, these NY artists still used to struggle with their works and be tortured as Europeans and anyone with a real commitment with its own work used to do.

It had to be broken and nothing more convenient that take a extremely affected gay guy on speed that had the shallowest view of work ever and call him genius. They had Warhol now and the entire world was convinced that he should be worthshiped. Rauschenberg could take this place too but he had a problem, he was smart and his work was beyond than only pop. He didn't serve for cultural domination purposes.

This was the last punch, I mean, now they didn't have Cezane as a master, they had Goya and Bosh. In a so distorted way that nobody could recognize, now Goya was pop, it had plastic and glitter hiding its face, all packed in soup boxes.

During all this process parallel one thing that looked different but had the same nature was al the conceptual art, it sometimes looked like an natural extension of the boring , pretentious and fake isms of the first half of the 20th centurie, but no.... as a matter of fact it was what Anglicans were really good about. Literature. Visual art stopped to be visual and became a statement. Now The Queen Elizabeth's culture was really showing its plastic fangs. As mortal as real ones. Now they were putting in practice their real talent... to write and manipulate by words. To manipulate themselves first, then "the rest".

The Pop predictable botherance became Saatchi's Sensation and the Conceptual art , even Fluxus, became illustration named as art to be hanged on galleries and art fairs. Or to be ejoyed on Tumblr.

But I am not a victim only of this.

In Germany happened the biggest tragedy of the 20th century's world, and sadly I am not talking about Hitler but about Bauhaus.

Yes, it was a tragedy to me, the effort to transform design in a more mechanical and functional craft for intellectual stop to feel the useless assholes they always were and start to feel that were doing something practical to improve the society. It fucked everything up. Now the design wasn't made for humans and/or harmony of the environment anymore, it was an answer for a new world that demanded more practical solutions to solve problems of efficiency. Cold, soulless, ugly ( " it isn't ugly, is a new kind of beauty you must to get used to", it is said all the time since you were born to make you accept even before to learn to speak ).

Only a small pause on this all : I remember the first time I went to an exhibition with the proposal of "interactive art". I asked my self "for what ? Is there anything more interactive then life? " But we are not allowed to have life, are we ? The exhibition was the most boring video game a retarted kid could play. I am not retarded, I will not acept they to impose this to me as it was smart , interesting or had a real meaning. I will not acept as these people do.

Why do I put myself as a victim of it all? No way I am not feeling sorry for myself, how americans call this ?" self-loathing" or something like that, no I am not used to this expression.

Now can I explain better my work? I don't think so, not yet.

When I started to have any intention to produce art I was 20 years old. Because my life at the time was totally based on my own interest by self, psychology, spiritism, Christianism.... but even going to college to study psychology I didn't want to develop anything on the field of the logic even writing so much about this between 1996 and 1999. So in 1995 I created the Aterces Adiv Concept that, in a extremely short way, is the idea that nothing personal can be hidden from its own individuals in its mind and life and art must to be an extension of existence expressing the individual's nature with its all plenitude to be consider as a real form of expression.

So there was me , young and naive thinking that art is a really great thing. Worse, thinking that what recent artists had created was true, sincere and good.

As any young or immature person I was convinsed to think Francis Bacon was a great painter and artist, I only saw his works by books as here in Sao Paulo we don't have it in public collections. I went to one exhibition that had his works , something like 8 large pieces of him. He totally fall in front of my eyes, I had never been so disappointed in my entire life, it was shallow and illustrative about everything, it was boring and predictable, it was.... well... not even ugly, only mediocre and I started for the first time to suspect someone had told a big lie to me about art. Sincerely I didn't put all the blame on the artist, he deserves, but I totally put the blame on the exhibition's curator with his long and stupid statement, I put the blame on the curator that had written the book I saw of Bacon's work. I realized that knew more what people used to say about his work than the work tiself. It made me furious. Bacon was absolute not different than any Disney cartoon and I almost fell on this trap as the rest of the world had to.

This was the day all the contemporary and modern art fell in front of me and was never able to get up again.

For irony, on the same exhibition had a room with lots of Warhols, you know what they say, the painting isn't good but the concept is brilliant. I thought the opposite, I really liked, not LIKED , but thought the paint in one or other work was good and pretty, but the concept and subjects made me feel like to sleep.

In some level I started to realize that contemporary art wouldn't be able to feed me or fit my necessities. I still didn't know very well why, it was all based on observation ant not by ideas.

Modern art of the first half of 20th centure suddenly started to get as shallow as everything made on the more recent decades. So where should I turn my head to ? An artist must to have some references to start from somewhere. All this was very intuitive, I didn't have so much conscience of all this, only in some level as I had very immature opinions of rage and was discontent about everything. I used to see all the exhibitions in the city and go to all museum and libraries, at the time didn't have internet, but for some reason the distant and provincial Sao Paulo was very complete and well informed, the urge Brazilians have to be up to date with all the trends from NY and Europe following it religiously made the city to explode of new aesthetical values all the time, I remember when I went to live in London, 2006, 2007, all I saw at the art galleries and art institutions I had already seen in Sao Paulo on the late 90's, not that Sao Paulo is ahead of everything, but it is because this last decade was really lame about every single aspect of the human creation. ...

So there was me looking to everything and not finding nothing. I was experimenting all the kinds of medias, even digital, as form of expression. I refused to paint because, who wants to paint in the late 20th century and early 21 ? Not me, that was for sure. Even painting being my biggest pleasure when I was visiting exhibitions.

But it wasn't only art..... I was extremely unhappy with all I saw , life was really hard and having eyes almost didn't help to make it easier, the city was a complicated and congested dirt block of concrete where all was projected and built for corporative interests, and very personal interests too, nothing, absolute nothing in the city was in aesthetical harmony, and as consequence nothing works. People in Sao Paulo leave their houses in closed condominiums by car, and by car go to their private offices, private malls for shopping....everything is private with conditioned air, what seems very convenient but made all then arrested by security systems and member's cards. The city is horrible, if you spent one single afternoon out of the city, when you come back in the evening you already get unused to its look and even by the window's car all you see gives you cramps and makes you feel like to puke... it isn't an expression. But Sao Paulo's citizens found a way to defend themselves from the heavy ugliness that nobody, not even born and raised here is never able to get used to.... they built large tall walls, they drive cars with dark glasses by all the sides and don't open the window, their houses don't have any landscape to be seen by the windows , from the window you only see ... walls.

I was born very privileged, and grew up only knowing my private school, my private country club, my private condominium, my beautiful isolated ( as an island ) neighborhood, my isolated house with large garden and swimming pool with an ultra contemporary architecture and exotic rounded very large windows where you had as view the trees of the garden and sure the wall few meters from it. Uff, I was blessed, it was what my parents used to say to me all the time I looked by the window's car and saw people starving on the street, on those dirt concrete narrow sidewalks made for no pedestrian as it is a car's city, in front of the buildings of the multi-national companies and its large abstract sculptures in front taking the few space of the sidewalk do not allowing to poor people pass by in front of it. " Get distant poor, people in general, only cars can pass by here, this place is made for large metal and concrete sculptures, not for you".

Well, I was a blessed privileged children but felt excluded from the world as everybody else. So it all was always very agressive to me anyway. Maybe worse, because I was raised indoors it gave me real fear to go outside and see the world as it is, all I heard about the other side of the walls, is that there only exited murderers, rapists, disasters, all the kinds of crimes and evil..... Incredible how to protect you from the world, the same world destroys your self esteem : " you wouldn't survive there, that is for sure, it is a very tough world, you are better here ""among it all"", now go to play tennis ". " It all" they referred to as a protected paradise was the apparent concrete constructions of contemporary architecture with large abstract painting on the walls and even larger abstract metal sculptures at the gardens with modernist design. Bauhaus even for the riches. Oh yeah, my family wasn't rich, we were middle class , but in Sao Paulo to survive and have at least an illusion of life quality you must to live as the rich of other countries do. Today I think it was pure bulling. Not that I am ungrateful , I do think it was offered the best of the today's world could give me, the best...... and here the best becomes sad and revolting, a real hopeless despair. One of the greatest reasons people are so much on drugs and alcoholism and unstoppable sexuality. If this life style is the best the sophisticated world can offer and I don't get any satisfaction or real happiness, what should I expect from life ? "

So life became so over protective and frustrating that killed life, and art, as consequence, became so over protective, self explanatory that killed expression, and art.

And there was me. Living a meaningless educational system that never teaches anything only imposes values, living a meaningless life of swimming classes, karate and tennis matches, being extremely lost, unhappy unsatisfied, lonely and having all the adults pointing to the people starving on the street and saying I was blessed and the luckiest kid of the world, making me believe all the money around me was a force field bigger than religion. " They have faith and God makes then starve in the street, they don't read or write, but you have money, so now go to swim in this beautiful place and never make questions again". Fair enough, right? Yes, why not, I didn't know the world outside. World outside meant crimes in Sao Paulo or the paradisiac beaches we used to go on weekends, too far to the poor never discover and arrive. So yes, I didn't feel beauty in human crafts but I believed it was the best. That grey concrete architecture with large class windows ( with view to gardens and walls ) and large paintings were all I knew.

But a miracle happened, a new door opened in my life. My father that spent his life working on stock market and latter on City Bank got broken, then divorced my mother... suddenly I was a poor teenager, still living in the same ultra sophisticated contemporary house with my mother, but with no money to take a bus. I was sent to a public school with all the miserable ignorant, ugly, non-white, dangerous people. I lost all my old friends as I couldn't afford the life they had , as teenagers all then had cars, motorcycles, and weekends on beach houses with no parents around. I could buy one Ramones album every three months and should feel satisfied. I was on drugs and alcoholic, getting stoned and drunk everyday before noon.

Why was it good ?It wans't, but I could for the first time see the world, or Sao Paulo as it was. It was really ugly... oh, Sao Paulo really doesn't put a welcome doormat on its porch even because it hasn't a porch. If I was telling how meaningless were all the aesthetical values of my life, now at this period of my life I received a huge punch of ugliness in my face, impossible to figure out or heal. At least I discovered that poor people aren't criminals but hard workers. Starting by the school I went to study, imagine the ugliest American or English public school you saw in your life. They are a dream comparing with it here, the archteture is made for thief do not get in and students do not get out, it is identical the presidios, not the first world presidios, but the third world ones... and guess what? It is Pure Bauhaus !!!! hahaha, Not kidding. The level of depression of the kids inside and frustration is so big that it is even impossible to breath, you can cut the gray air with a knife, what isn't hard to find. Everything is practical and functional, all the design, but nothing works, because is a design all made to serve the institution, not the students.

Then comes the art teacher, as the literature teacher, the History teacher, Geography teacher about this they weren't different of the private school, since kinder garden they are like a one key's piano showing how modernists painters, writers and contemporary sculptors are genial and everything that happened till the end of 19th Century is a total useless European lie for hypocrites. Why? Because it is old fashioned, they say. Incredible , I spent my entire life in school learning all about European and North American modernism and a little bit of post modernism too, but never was showed me anything from other centuries, at least I really don't remember, I remember teachers saying about "old art", saying it was all archaic and useless. Useless ? Should be used for what ? And what they consider good, was useful for what ? For the lives we were having ? What exactly were they preaching about... these poor teachers that failled about everything in their lives and went to teach in public school, what values were they defending blindly so faithfully, what had all the modernist mentality done for then ? I guess... none.

What the old art and artists did to this people that they grew so much hate about?

I told all this to say that I live in a city built by modernist and contemporary values, my entire life was built under this. I was made to believe it was all right and convenient, the best option the civilization could adopt.

What did it make for me or my life ? Self destruction ? Unhappiness? No direction ?

Then comes the current academic ( digital instalations and all new medias plus current painting are the pinnacle of academic values and mentality ) artist's speech from EU and USA: empty, destructive, atheist, grotesque, leading to nothing.

If I was from their countries maybe I would adopt and shake this flag gladly, probably I would had being a bothered middle class kid living in a lovely place with trees on the streets and going to a pretty suburban high school complain that my parents are horrible because I didn't win the last version of mac for birthday... then later would go to NY study art and get fascinated by all that convenient crap that needs to be expensive to convince itself that has any real value. ( wait, but wasn't this the life I had in Sao Paulo? )

But I am from a place where never has offered me any kind of designed beauty. And the natural beauty was all destroyed. I was among the richest and among the poor. I was at the best places and the worse. All I saw was contemporary design-art and it made my life miserable.

Can you believe I started to paint ? Painting !!! After all my education about being modern at the New New World, Country and City and try new medias forgetting the old world and going towards the New Age because this is the right thing to do ? And for a moment I bought this idea and concept of life, world, and human being. It happens that after to have discovered painting I realized that it was the only media among all I've tried before that could really bring some level of satisfaction to my very personal need to express something interior. Wow, so the old fashioned world had a treasure this modern world tried to hide from me. Painting. Again, all the preachers of the "new media for a new world and new human" had lied and failed. Wasn't a surprise at the time the fact they lie and tried to put me apart from decency, truth and real expression, but was a surprise that painting, even do not being a pleasure during the process, could bring such wide and deep results. How could I guess? When did the world had showed me before it could be possible?

They didn't and don't want to see what I painted, but I showed to then , you bet I did. It isn't hidden. They turn their faces because of their shame, all they believed and defended is fake when faces my work.... the eyes on my paintings aren't romantic, they aren't looking to the void dreaming, they are staring the viewer and saying :" And what are you going to do about? I am here, try to deny me with your statements now".

There is nothing more subversive than to be in Sao Paulo and paint, this is the only real subversive art of the world today.

After to start to paint I saw books in hidden libraries of the city about "old European art"... wait. Is this the hypocrite mediocre art the teachers talked about? So inferior than modern art in general ?

I must to say I still get revolted. Why did the world had interest to hide Caravaggio from me but preferred to present the shallow Matisse as the most beautiful art of all times and Jasper Jonhs as the smartest thing ever ? Or I consider the whole civilization retarded and deadly mistaken or I think it is a horrible conspiracy theory in action. What would you choose ?

But forget, so here I am and all the places I look to are modern and not human at all. Made by human? Made by corporative mentality by citizens ( but not even for then ) that aren't aware of the fact being human isn't like this.

Not just that, all art I see , even the provincial Brazilian one imitating the Eropean or North American, is telling me that beauty is over, harmony is useless, truth is a joke, God is dead, life is in a can, all with very strong statements to prove it all.

I never had nothing, they , there at the first world , at their nice houses and lovely neighborhoods made recently the IMF force Brazil to land money for do not allow EU to break down so they are able to keep their life style all supported by government lies while people here in Brazil are starving in the street, brazilain people that don't have formal education, houses, nothing, but are convised buildings and stadiuns must to be bulit for the europeans and american turists that are coming for the olympic games and the footbal world cup. This poor ugly ignorant people that nobody cares is taught that what the Europeans and Americans are creating now is good, necessary and sophisticated so it must to be trusted and consumed. ( Incredible, Europeans go to street to protest about every little movement their government does, but when the money is taken from the poor people of the poor South American countries, the defenders of human rights get satisfied and shut up, they know the government will give money enough for their expensive wines, drugs and cheese, so... " let the not-white poor people of that distant continent die, take their money and only leave few alone to plant our holly cocaine ).

They kill people in poor countries to make grotesque/lazy/lame/shallow art and be considered genius worthing hundreds of millions of pounds. This is what they do.

Again, I never had nothing, so what do I do? I try to create an art that is sincere, and try to find some new kind of beauty for my life... not because I want a new kind of anything, I would be very happy with the old kind of art.... I try to find a new kind of beauty because I don't know to make nothing like the old masters. Simple like that. How can a man from the 21st century in Sao Paulo, the distant corner of the South America learn to built something pretty from others ? It is impossible, you must to create it from almost nothing. From the books you see, the yellow photos of old paintings, the memory of places you never went, the twisted references of beauty built many centuries ago in distant continents. Maybe I am the only one on this world creating towards truth and grace. It will never look the same, I have no idea of what I am doing or what is the look of the direction I am taking. But I know some things:

They denied me beauty, I make my own .

They denied me harmony, I make my own.

They denied dignity, I conquer my own .

They denied me truth, I search and find my own.

They denied me God. I am fundamentalist Christian and rub my Faith on their faces with no shame or fear.

I am Mein Welt, my own country. And with God's bless and His permanent hand on me I built my life, my world, my values... I won the whole world.

VICTORY : written in bad English , the language of the enemy as described on the Apocalypse book of the Bible, just to humiliate then all. Now you can try to murder me as you tried with my master and promised to do with me for my entire life, you loser ( loser: concept I learned watching American movies ), as Him I won life and death by God in the name of my lord Jesus Cristo. Eu ( primeira pessoa do singular submisso ao Cristo Senhor ) sou o supremo Kaiser von Mein Welt. Der Welter Konig is triumphant and eternal.

Mein Welt: grammatical joke the current Germans didn't understand till today, the denying of the German Republic, the Bauhaus, the 3rd Reich, the European Union. Everything created by the modern mentality. Makes me remember of the isolated German Christian communities in South America with their own dialects and preserved culture . The denying of the world as it was presented and forced to me.

Obrigado Senhor Jesus , meu querido mestre, por ter me dado essa vida incrivel e me dado condiçoes de vence-la.

anglican culture gave what it had to give, and took much more back , I am exhausted of it all.

2012-02-16T12:24:00.001-02:00

believe me or not, my Spanish is even worse than my English, so I had to use the google translate, any mistake, put the blame on google.

Me he estado preguntando en las referencias que tengo, en general, cultural, arte y música, sino qué y dónde estoy más influenciado y pasó a la producción.
ultimamenete exusto’ve sido tantas referencias Anglicana. Esto tiene sentido, no más…. nuestra cultura iberica no con todos nosotros, así que tuvimos que aferrarse a las culturas más distantes. Yo creo que todo lo que la cultura de Inglaterra podría haber ofrecido ya nos pasó, ya no creen en nada que provenga de los Estados Unidos o Inglaterra.
Cada vez que pienso sobre el imperialismo cultural, me siento satisfecho, porque, de hecho, mirando a la historia, que era mejor para los brasileños han sido culturalmente dominada doque se han quedado con los íberos, que velhor los valores provinciales, tanto en erosionada y no nos avanza una. Creo que lo mismo puede decirse deEspaña después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y la larga dictadura, la UE sigue siendo de esta cultura que podría ofrecer algo mejor que ofrece el imperialismo doquecultural? Así que la mentalidad de Inglaterra tuvo su funcionalidad y se utiliza bien no passado.
Pero ahora, lo que nos ha dado, el anglicanismo intelectual Vasio demostrado ser totalmente superficial y desechable, ahora no tenemos nada más.
Creo que realmente necesitamos para empezar y crear los valores que nos separan delos eteriotipos estadounidenses y británicos, pero sin la cual nuestras culturas nos dan,nuestras culturas, ya que no cumple con nuestras necesidades en todo momento en todos los aspectos

He estado muy apegado Caravaggio, Bernini, Velázquez, Rembrandt, Durero, Monet, Renoir …… He adjuntado los maestros pintores del pasado y no tan cinhecidos también…. todo lo que no implica la publicidad de la supuesta supremacía de Inglaterra …..Creo que el verdadero arte subversivo sería ahora para rescatar los valores de todos los estadounidenses y no Inglese no llevar los valores pictóricos o artísticas de nuevo en nuestras vidas hoy en día.
Creo que la gran innovación en el arte que tenemos que hacer sería negar toda la segunda mitad del siglo XX, de vuelta a París la primera mitad del siglo veinte después de siglo hasta el 19, 18, 17 ……..
Aprecio y adimiro lo que los artistas como Rauschenberg hizo, tal vez incluso Pollock y otros, pero ninguno de lo que realmente me da de comer.
Por no hablar de que los anglicanos han hecho desde los años 90 …. todo esto supone que la mente lo grotesco, y de hecho sólo una superficial imitación doque Goya yBosch antes de fiseram mucho más profundo.
Así que todavía estamos vivos y el consumo de los valores culturales de los que sólo robaba a los demás lo que ellos hicieron en el pasado, y lo hizo mucho mejor?
No sé en España, pero aquí en Sao Paulo, todo parece un subproducto doque sucedeen Manhattan y Londres. Eso y lo stupido!
Mein Welt tiene humor en él, porque el alemán y el mal, gramaticalmente disconexo ynagaçao de la Europa contemporánea (EURO) y el Brasil ibérico, pero no está ni cercacerca de los EE.UU. o Inglaterra. Y un intento de crear una nueva cultura como una referencia en toda la pintura occidental, los bizantinos hasta el final francesa del siglo 19 y siglo 20. Pero sin imitaçoe, ya que soy un siglo 21 de Brasil, entonces tengo quecrear algo único y euthentico ella.
Sin embargo, es difícil crear una nueva cultura, a pesar de las referencias tan biendefinido.

gran abrazo. todo lo que se ha escrito usando traductor Google, entonces cualquiererror de echarle la culpa a Google.

Mein Welt: the Art Magazine Caixa Lote published Caio Fern on...

2012-01-18T10:22:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: the Art Magazine Caixa Lote published Caio Fern on...: http://www.caixalote.com / the Art Magazine Caixa Lote, published Caio Fern on the Second Issue The Brazilian art magazine Caixa Lote...

Mein Welt: Do I look romantic as I was proposing ? I put an e...

2012-01-18T10:20:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: Do I look romantic as I was proposing ? I put an e...: It is sad, pathetic... but true. There is a time in the life of a single straight poor man that things start to get complicated. If he has...

Mein Welt: Caio Fern, acrylic on canvas 2011 review

2012-01-18T10:18:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: Caio Fern, acrylic on canvas 2011 review: Every end of December I make a celebration posting about the whole production of painting of the year, it has been a tradition here in Mein ...

I confess I've been a bit satisfied

2011-12-10T20:41:00.007-02:00

I confess I’ve been a bit satisfied lately with my work ( of painting ).

I believe that I have condensed elements into a more focused way of expression.

The intention towards the works never was to represent anything, but to express the feelings generated during the process of the individual having to deal with itself.

I try to avoid the description of ideas, facts and concepts, what is hard to do when it is about figurative painting, and more, representational art….. as I don’t intend to represent anything, only to use the external light reflected by skin and its volumes on my own face as model for painting.

The real intention behind the works is producing expression by itself. Expression of individual issues behind the struggle for self development and self improvement, but making the artwork to become as independent as possible from the author on its feelings, life and destiny.

I always believed that pictorial values by its plots would be enough for all my needs. But during the whole year of 2011 I focused on composition of the image as a way to increase the conversation among an intention of anti-space, pictorial values, and the viewer.

The intention of denying the external space where the main figure is the only subject is still there and got a new and deeper level of intensity now. It opened the possibility to explore with more efficiency internal spaces found into the individual nature and its process self-discovering and fighting to become reformed, remodeled. Even so one of my earlier concerns was the doubt if exploring more internal spaces the image would naturally spread all over and lose its focus into itself. But I am glad to report that by a not so big effort it didn’t happen, as a matter of fact was the opposite, I have never been able to develop an image into itself as I’ve done lately.

I still have some issues to solve that haven’t made me totally satisfied and again for being able to reach what I need I will have to turn my attention to the improvement of the pictorial values always having in mind I can not lose the achievements obtained my the improvement of the composition.

The problem of the composition is creativity. I always saw creativity as an obstacle and diversion for the purest form of self expression. As I said , pictorial values should be able to deal with all my needs of expression and make the work be able to live by itself. But I confess the creativity demanded by the efforts for composing an image has given me a bigger offer for exploring internal territories and has made easier to deal with the image, maybe creativity is an escape from my main target. I don’t know if its is a phase or if it is another characteristic of my work’s nature that is coming to stay definitely. I say definitely because these characteristics aren’t new, you can observe then on the whole trajectory of my work with more emphasis on the years of 2001 and 2002. But I believe that on all the periods it has appeared in a more or less obvious way.

So in fact I didn’t produce anything really new on 2011, only improved or got more aware of characteristics I have denied for years or simply didn’t feel the necessity to work so hard on it giving the attention I think now it deserves.

Why Am I writting this? I had nothing better to do, was looking to the watch all the time, now it is 21:26 , time to leave.

http://www.silentspots.blogspot.com/

Sweet Station posting about Caio Fern !

2011-10-19T13:04:00.002-02:00

Hi Everyone !!!!
this site SWEET STATION has my work posted today by Honey that wrote very nice words about.
Thank you Honey.
Sweet Station is a nice place to know new artists and creative people that produces in the aesthetical area in general.
Hope you have fun visiting it.
http://sweet-station.com/blog/2011/10/caio-fern/

Iris, Sunday afternoon --------------- by Caio Fern ( who else ?)

2011-10-08T18:03:00.002-03:00

When the shores forget its own voids to fall in silence into fading sounds and lost eras of purple and blue.

The pale texture of her skin became everything existence should be fed with.....

.......into me.

In bed we opened The Book.

Allowing the drizzle to fall outside whispering the gray/gold of distant spiritual edges cuddling.

The new ART BOOK !!! - --- MEIN WELT ---- yey !!!!!

2011-09-13T12:34:00.001-03:00

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2476516

yey !!! finally,
I just published the book MEIN WELT !
I have worked on it since October 2010.
I am really happy with it , since the beginning it was supposed to be a fancy pretty and a bit expensive book, but it worths every single penny. The book is beautiful, touching and absolute not logical. Typical Mein Welt.
Life couldn't be better. I am so grateful that I was able to produce and publish it , a real dream, a real miracle.

You that are more intimate of my work , this blog and Mein Welt in general can understand much more about the book.

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2476516

Book concerned to register the Mein Welt Culture with poetry and beauty, its characters, ornaments, architecture, furniture, cuisine and other aspects of this little town hidden among sunny and cold mountains ( or just "Up There" ). Photography, Painting, Drawing, Sculpture by Caio Fern.

this is the link :

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2476516

if everything is an illusion so everything is truth.Good Morning !!!!

2011-09-13T12:29:00.000-03:00

I think it is the winter here... it makes me feel more like to write..... different of that heat punishing this land most part of the year where I lose the will to live and create..... even so, at least about painting, the heat haven't affected me so much... but writing during the other hotter months... well.... I can't explain but just doesn't happen.
Today after a really freezing night I woke up with a nice warm sun landing on the window, and it is still cold. This is life. I love both, the cold and the subtle kind warm sunshine in the morning.

So I realized that on a dimension of reality where everything is a illusion it is impossible to produce a fiction or a lie. Everything is truth exactly for not existing under a formal position related with the biggest nature of the universe that can be opened by another dimensions of existence.

It made me get sad and calmer at the same time. Well a contradictory nature of existence can only form contradictory feelings when I am in bed looking the sun passing by the fissures of the wooden window. For the fact all is unreal and fictional... all can be faced as truth. Doesn't matter.

It made me remember one thing too. This client I had when was working on a extremely poor community here in São Paulo. There I had to deal with families and their problems. They were very poor people with no formal education and their solutions for life could be shocking to me. There was this man, a father , I used to talk to him in two different situations... family therapy where his wife and kids were present .... and alone. In front of the family he was pretty realistic, had alcohol issues and was an abusive husband, he knew that and was sincerely fighting to solve this. Alone with me he was totally schizophrenic and incapable to tell one single truth living in a fantasy world. So contradictory... and he really believed or wanted to believe on all he was telling me.
Well, I was a voluntary there and it was my second year at the college. I was working at this place more to help kids to keep going to school and teach mothers how to convince the children to stay at home doing homework and not going to street for doing drugs. I had absolute any training for dealing with that man and I couldn't call a real professional because... he was poor, black, ignorant, alcoholic, poor , poor, poor, miserable..... and... who cares ? right ?
What happens is that for my lucky in a very short time I realized that this man was more sincere with me when we were alone and he were outbreaking than when he was in front of his family being all realistic.
Through his lies I could see all the crystal clear truth... it is very common in psychoanalysis as a matter of fact, I wasn't doing anything new. Experiencing that I realized that doesn't exist lie in this life. All produced by man can be considered truth. Months latter a woman stared to work as volunteer there and she was a brilliant psychologist. She took care of this man and all my clients as I decided to work in another activity with the families offered by this center.
At the same time I worked as volunteer as medium on a Kardecist center and used to study it hard. The mentality that this is only a very low and, not unreal dimension of existence but much less real than the other dimensions where we came from and are destined to go back was increasing/improving in my mind and all blending with what I studied at College.

When I was a teenager I already thought like that, it made me go to study both things at the same time.
It is going to chase me for the whole life. That is the reason I woke up today thinking about this only because I am feeling like to write a novel that has being on my mind for years and I only didn't start because I can't decide if it is going to be written by a linear chronological order or if I am going to only obey the way memories lead to other creating emotional links where a more Cartesian logic is going to become less important or effective.

This is exactly the issue where forces me to keep painting what and the way I paint and not more impressive and "smart" images. Keep it simple as a Jesus word and deep as His meaning. ( ok I can't get deep as Him but you know what I mean, hahah)

My last painting is a good example of this. As I wrote when I posted it " only a blur on the middle of the raw canvasses". As the raw canvasses was nothing, only a support to exist in blur and make it happen even so.
It is painting for who loves painting and doesn't care for subjects, stories or meanings. The truth is there doesn't matter what. The painting ( as media ) has the power to be an expression by itself and doesn't need excuses to exist ( concepts or ideas ).
This is the whole life. This is existence on this dimension. This is the words of that poor man that only told me the truth by lies as facts doesn't matter at all, the truth is always expressed anyway.
Keep it simple and kick the material world's ass with its facts and concepts... it is all unnecessary. The Truth is there, here and everywhere on the universe independent of anything you can reach by your brain or heart or even soul as truth is the existence by itself = All small creations. All art.

I don't trust space - Why there is no background - I don't like Brazil - Aterces Adiv - Mein Welt

2011-08-02T11:38:00.005-03:00

I don't trust space.
I believe on individual existence but I don't trust that space exists.... and I do... it is so contradictory because the idea of space affects me in a very intense form.
It all started with the idea of culture. First let me make clear what is culture to me . Culture is the way I see myself, the other and the rest of the world. All the rest is already cultural production. The way you sleep and wake up, the way you sit on bed and go to bathroom, the way to use the toilet and brush your teeth... the way you walk and breath, the way you chew the food.... it is all cultural production already. It became the biggest problem of my life. And it is closed related with space.

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Let me pretend I am changing the subject here:
I love dogs, they are one of the most sophisticated human creation, if not the most sophisticated human creation of all times of the civilization. The man took the wolf and for thousands of years manipulated it till arrive on those almost 500 registered breeds we have now. Even so , different of many other human creations it was impossible for man to take its main marks of the God's creation: the soul. Everything God created on wolf is still there. You can say that the dog is a partnership between man and God.
At school and college we learn to study the History of the civilization and more specific, Western Civilization by the angles of Economy, Wars, Politics, Religions, Science, Industry, Commerce, Art, as it is all closely related. But because of my fascination for dogs many years ago I started to study breeds and its origins, from Persia and China to Romans and later the Europe. Studying the dogs I had the most fascinated view of the Western History, much closer than any art study, economy or religious gave me before. The dogs were present on every levels and activities of the societies. All social classes. They were hunters, shepherds, warriors, guards, sports, transports, and even companions. While studying the other characteristics ( art , politics, economy....) I had only a general view of the societies where was explained as bigger phenomenon, but studying dogs I was allowed to get into the homes, to see the everyday life of the different European people from different countries and centuries. I could see their clothes, houses, fields , forests , weather, food , ornaments, needs... in a very particular way and of all social class or activity.
So I can say that studying breeds of dogs was my passport to get closer to understand a world that to me didn't matter how much I saw it on books, movies or TV , seemed like fiction and even a confuse fairy tale.
I needed this more than you can imagine. I needed more information as possible about this place culture and people I didn't understand and couldn't deal with.

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I was 15 or 16 years old. My neighborhood had many mansions and expensive houses but at the time had some vacant lots with lots of trees always between big houses. One of then had an empty house with no roof, windows or doors, only the walls made of heavy cement bricks. We kids used to go to these places for getting stoned and waist time. One day my friends had the idea of demolishing that house only kicking it. It seemed a good idea to me, we had nothing better to do.
After few minutes I was working on a wall alone demolishing bricks by bricks when I decided to stop. I left the house and got close of it among trees looking my friends kicking it and having fun observing the walls falling apart. I was happy and smiling. But I started to pass my hands on my head and hair and get a very bad feeling of anxiety, the world around stopped to make sense. No I wasn't stoned that day. I think if we had used any kind of drugs we wouldn't do that as it could drive attention of the neighbors and they could call the police. We only did bad things when we had no drugs and no excuse to be arrested for anything more serious than enjoying a nice vandalism.
The house falling down didn't make me think so much how time destroys everything , but made get impressed with the idea that it had existed. How? Did it ? When did it exist? Right here? Because I can't understand or deal with "here". What is Here? It can't be real. No way.
I suspect of reality as a 9 years old children starts to suspect of Santa Claus. I grew up like that. Reality meant place and place wasn't for real.
My neighborhood's population was formed by people that alleged that were from Europe: Germany , Austria , Switzerland, Denmark or USA ( I am not from here, they said )... the three schools there were one North American, one Swiss and one German.
The rest of Sao Paulo city, millions of people, had a totally different culture, Iberic ( Italian, Spanish , French, Portuguese ) or Midle East ( Sirian, Libanese, Turkish, Arabian ) origin, and didn't relate themselves as something similar or familiar with the things I lived in my area.
My ancient relatives claimed the same: " We are not from here".... they came from distant lands with different cultures.
I watched on TV North American movies, sitcoms, cartoons.... I had since was very small to be able to understand other people's reality ( culture ), and more or less ignore mine to be able to just turn on the TV in the morning and watch an innocent Tom and Jerry cartoon.
I was fanatic for rock'n'roll and with 8 years old had already a huge collection of albums and liked this kind of music because everything produced on my own country wasn't able to talk to me. I didn't like Brazilian= Rio de Janeiro's production. It didn't touched me at all. But with only 6 years old I wasn't able to understand one single English word but Ozzy Osborn or Quiet Riot, Twisted Sisters, and all the Pop Rock, New Wave and mainstream heavy metal of the time was able to understand me so well.
I used to see Brazilian productions for kids on TV and I disliked that, was like a torture to me. I didn't see me on those kids or on what they were doing. But I had a Michael Jackson t-shirt and a BMX bike exactly like the ones the kids had on the E.T movie ( I still love the both: Michael Jackson and the E.T movie).
It was a mess in my head. Really, it was like being a schizophrenic during the whole life.
When teenager and young adult I tried hard to blend and become a Brazilian, I tried to like everything adopting all reference to this culture I saw.... but they didn't accept me and I didn't adapted myself to the view of individual, community and the way they used to see the rest of the world.

When I saw the house at the vacant lot being demolished by my friends, all then very German like kind and distant of what seemed to be real life or real world, I got in a total crises about identity. And felt so distant of then too, I saw I had a different nature for some reason I didn't understand. Not only personal identity but the identity of the place, the culture.... the the fact how much it all could be real or exist. You can say it is a very teenager thing and would pass.
I was never able to deal with space. Space and its identity as I was never able to deal with mine own.

I never was able to deal with the idea of existing on, in, into, at, by a space.

I didn't understand any more the concept of distance and cultural differences. I didn't understand why the only people that was able to create music, movies and books were people I couldn't touch, see, people that was told to me they lived in different continents, cultures, different races. What ? It can't be possible, the ones by my side don't talk what I can relate with and distant people that don't know me and totally ignore my existence can touch me so deeply ? How it that possible ? It is so abstract. I didn't understand the concepts of other places anymore. '"what do you mean exists a place called New York, Los Angeles, London, Berlin ? It is too abstract. How can you affirm the only way to get there is flying ? Too abstract , I can't deal with it , I looked to the world map and it didn't make any sense, looked only like a drawing made by a kid. What do you mean the musicians that are able to express my feelings are from Seattle's area or Oregon? What is it? Place? Is it a place... but it makes no sense at all.
As teenager I had fanzines talking about garage bands and the only ones that traded fanzines with me and sent me cassette tapes with new bands were people from Sweden, Finland, they didn't speak my language and I didn't speak theirs, even so were the only ones that had interest on what I was "talking" about music and the only ones I totally understood the musical taste and the way to deal with art.
Why "real " people had to be so distant and abstract while the near ones by my side where unexpressive and irrelevant ?

( Now I remember about my parents and siblings. Every kid has its own brush teeth, right? I had my own brush teeth, my own cup, dish, fork, knife, spoon, bedroom, nobody was allowed to touch .......... My family was so distant to me and unreal that they were repulsive and disgusting. Since very small I didn't let my mother touch me, or my father, a simple hug was able to make me react in a rude way and the family started to argue and fight. My parents didn't look real, they didn't look married having no affection with each other, my sisters and brother were so different of me and similar my parents. I didn't match that, I didn't have the same sense of humor and didn't like the same activities. I didn't have a so bad relationship and submitted myself to their values, even so I didn't understand my position on that group. I didn't and any specialist did. I spent my entire childhood till 13 years old going to all the kind of specialists and charlatans as my mother and my school wanted to figure out why I was so "problematic", a bad student , a bad son, a bad brother, a bad friend, a bad everything. All the specialists had totally different diagnostics and in 1988 with 13 years old the last one just gave up. He took me by the arm, angry, let me to the waiting room where my mother was and said :"" Listen, he doesn't want to be helped, he doesn't even understand what is doing here, I give up and you should too, there is nothing wrong with him, he is only a bad ass motherfucker ( the only expression I found in English to translate his words ). You must to learn to live with it and if one day he decides that needs help he will look for it by himself, it is time to stop to waist his youth and your money with all specialists you can find"" . This made me grow up with the idea that I wasn't able to understand anything out of myself and the external world wasn't able to deal with me at all. I was only sure that wasn't an autistic because specialists had said I wasn't it many years before I knew what it means).

I became Christian for several reasons but one thing I never swallow is : Why here, God? Why made me born on this place that is not more than a black hole to my life and made my existence so miserable making me only be able to see the internal individual inside of me and being forced to ignore all the exterior? Do exist worse places than Brazil to me? Yes, most part of the planet is. But exists places where I would be able to have a real and opened life and not this fictional experience.

Back to the idea of need to study dogs, I had to study the world and History as much as possible, all the way and angles I could find or create. Studding History and Psychology was a way to try to find proves of existence. Like Archeology of the space itself and the individual existence, I needed proves. Proves that the place where I was born and raised was real and not an illusion. Proves that the so called USA , Europe = The other side of the world really existed and wasn't a lie or a fairy tale only to sale products to me and make me believe that has other way to exist on this dimension of the existence. Proves that all what had formed my identity and personal culture wasn't a mental disease created by my brain. Proves that I wasn't a mental patient in an institution and all I had lived, listened , read, watched, tasted wasn't only my imagination.

Then...... even being Brazilian and having my passport denied everywhere I found a way to get a visa and go to Europe. I was 31 years old. Not a picnic living 31 years suspecting of reality and my own nature so intensively.
After many many many hours of the airplane flying over clouds and oceans I saw land. I didn't recognized, was only land, could be anywhere , the airplane could have turned around and returned to Brazil, didn't make any difference.
I only knew I was going to Amsterdam because the ticked had Amsterdam written on it.
Suddenly I started to see green lands, and then little houses, little roads......it was different of Brazilian landscapes. I almost cried. I am almost crying now writing this.
IT EXISTS!!! My brain started to scream. It isn't an abstract painting as I saw when I was looking to European painters in Sao Paulo museums and very controlled art institutions. It exists. Isn't a lie. I saw a man walking on a field among tall grass and held my tears. Exists a place called "the other side of the world" and it has people in there. Look, they walk, they breath..... they exist too. It is so weird.
Later living in London didn't matter how much I got very well impressed with all I saw and things that existed for centuries ( in Sao Paulo nothing is older than 60 or 70 years ), didn't matter how much I loved the beauty of everything..... what impressed me more was the fact people there walked , ate, breathed, smelled, talked, as I did.... and one really curious thing almost surrealistic: they noticed my presence, talked and touched me. I existed in front of then and they existed too !!!!!! It can sound absurd, idiotic, ridiculous or sick to you.... but to me it was a revolution in my mind.
The life stopped to be abstract. The place was for real. Everything made sense to me because I was part of that. I was there. I was there !!!!I was part of that.

Part of that. Kind of.
Well, I didn't go to London because I wanted to be specifically at London, but because it was the easier place to get a visa. The idea I had of London was the one I saw on movies and listened on the lirics of the songs. I thought London was a gray depressing place with lots of Skinheads and Punks fighting on the streets and Football Hooligans killing tourists. Just that. Really. I didn't expect anymore.
It was a surprised. First it really existed. wow, just this would be enough to me !!! Second: the city is beautiful about everything. The English , that before in my mind were all big head drunk and neo nazis kind of people.... as a matter of fact were extremely polite, funny, kind and sympathetic people. They all were so nice with me . Different of the immigrants and their kids that made my life a hell. So I became a Nazi there hating all immigrants in UK ( as the English didn't seem to hate immigrants as much as I tought was necessary ) and hated what all they were doing with that beautiful lovely country. And everything there made sense to me. I existed, I existed. I existed !!
It brings me to the main reason that made me come back to the black hole called Brazil.
There are too reasons. I can't forget then.
First and most important.
I loved London so much that in a very fast way did everything I could to become a model citizen. I obeyed all the laws and rules, pay all the taxes, was polite with every single one and even helped always was necessary. Well, let me be fair, I wasn't doing more than what the English people were doing to me. I didn't understand why all the immigrants I met hated so much the local people and local culture. All the troubles I had living there were created by then. So when my visa was to expire I received many proposals to stay in the country as illegal, I would have house and job and live a normal life. I refused all the times these proposals appeared. I would never accept to do anything illegal in a place I loved so much. I would never become what I hated more: member of the immigrant community that was destroying the culture of a wonderful place like a virus only taking advantage of it and never giving any positive feed back. Never .....didn't matter the reason, even if the consequence was the biggest nightmare of my life: to return to the place were existence is questionable, people and culture is irrelevant, the hateful birthplace of mine. Now looking back I see I was in part wrong and overreacting about immigrants, but you must to understand I was in a very fragile situation and afraid to lose what I had just discovered. So I disliked every single thing or people that had different values or was against that culture in any level.
But has a second reason. And I must to be realistic about it even being so painful. Didn't matter how well English or other Europeans used to treat me, how polite they were and how much they respected me. I was always a foreigner. Anyone that met me, in one minute of conversation or less, asked me : "Where are you from?" . I said was from Brazil and they got surprised. I always was well threaten saying that was from Brazil and even some doors got opened to me only because of this. But I hated this situation. I hated not be part of that. I didn't want to be English or European, I only wanted to blend. Impossible, suffocating, disappointing. Every day I listened " Are you from France? Canada? Italy?" Does it matter? It is plain to see you judge me as a different one. I will never blend , become part of it doesn't matter how much I love it. I looked to the local guys always trying a look that could make then different of the crowd and all I wanted was to become invisible there, to be only one more and have a normal life. Suddenly the lyrics of the songs I listened sounded very silly. Rockers singing that they didn't want to be only one more having a mediocre life. ""Ungrateful bastards"" I used to say to myself. This is all I wanted when was there, to go to work as everybody else, to pay my bills, to have a normal home being an average guy, only one number, I would be happy to be a number, didn't need a name, I only wanted to be there where existence and the concept of place makes sense to me. I wanted to be one more and nothing else. Not an exotic man who everybody asks where is from.
So I was a strange body at my own country and a eternal foreigner abroad.
Again existence and the concept of place started to make no sense to me. I got very sad in London, loving that place, culture and people, and getting depressed about myself or very angry with destiny. I was lonely about every single aspect of life as I was before in Brazil and it wouldn't change. An eternal foreigner, an eternal Brazilian... I hate to have been born and raised here. I am using the word "hate" with all the intensity this word had when was created or more. It destroyed my life , identity, brain... and even worse, all my possibility to live on this world in a health and decent way. Brazil is the source of all the bad things in my life . All then with no exception. I don't think I could be a terroristt as a Christian I do believe I must to love my enemies. I am not loving it so much but I am at least forgiving , step by step...It is a long process and I am not in a hurry.
One day before my visa expired I went to the Airport and came back, arriving to Sao Paulo I spent more than one year in bed, I used to spent 15, 16 days not eating noting, only leaving the bed once a day for drinking tap water at the bathroom and going back to bed. I was ready to die... I am not dead by miracle. The only way to explain it. Then in April of 2009 I got a computer as gift and started my blog Mein Welt ( maybe now you can understand better this name ), what made me start to paint again.... the rest of my story anyone that have followed my blogs since then knows already.

I wrote it all to try to explain why I refuse to work the background of my paintings.
On my paintings it is only the individual dealing with itself, away from any idea or concept of space.
I can't deal with space yet. I can't deal with the idea of having other people in my life as I barely am able to deal with myself. I believe on my own existence but don't believe the rest of universe exists. Today the only meanful relationships I have is by internet. It isn't more abstract than my relationships before internet. Only more sincere. I got a job that 3 times a week makes me walk 15 minutes from my house and teach abstract concepts to middle class people that don't even know what to do with it or if I say I am an artist they woulnd't know what art is and think I am a zombie from other dimension ( they are right ). I work for 2 hours and come back home. This is the whole world to me now. This has been my life for the last year.
As I believe in Miracles ( as the Ramones song ) I pray to God to make one in my life ( yes , God to me is billions of times more real than anything in my life ). I pray to Him to make a miracle where everything in my life starts to exist for real and make sense.... or kill me as fast as possible. Because I can't accept , bare or deal with middle term. Middle tern is middle existence , and an existence can't happen by parts, it must to be the real deal, the whole thing. Middle term is mediocrity and mediocrity can't support itself. And everything at this place, territory named Brazil is so middle term, this culture, this people, these values.

Caio Fern: since the year 2000 no fucking background on the paintings. I don't accept space in my existence as it has presented itself. No landscapes no objects. It was never proved that I exist among these things and it has never proved itself to me. Fuck off.
I paint self portraits that don't look like what I see on the mirror but look like what I really see by light. I paint what I feel about my own existence as independent of the matter as possible. Sure, never totally independent of it.

I don't believe on you Space !!! You have never proved itself. You are only an illusion and torment that limits my existence. You are satan's creation.

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Aterces Adiv.

I don't want to tell the story now , but Aterces Adiv was the concept created in 1995 when I wanted to express the idea that art must to be the expression of internal searches, investigation and most important , manifestations with no distraction and nothing hidden. Aterces Adiv in Sao Paulo's Portuguese is the opposite of " Vida Secreta" = Secret Life.
So in art nothing must to be hidden doesn't matter the effects it is going to have. Everything must to be exposed. The most direct way.
You join this Aterces Adiv concept with the explanation about me relationship with space=culture I wrote above and you will have a good idea of what my paintings are expressing.

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Mein Welt.
The tentative of destroying Sao Paulo, Brazil, space/culture in me recreating a being more independent of it all with its own culture and values where the space to be lived is in my mind , more real than the reality. It was created in 2003 when I was 28 years old and didn't matter if I would die or live. I choose to live, but with the condition I could get rid of the world around me creating and adopting my own values.

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It all sounds schizophrenia....and I studied it so much to be sure of my mental condition. Only for the fact I suspected that was crazy shows I am not, this kind of metal ill makes people never suspect. And what I found about its different kinds and levels don't match with my situation. Not forgeting I did short analysis during the College years, not counting the intence analysis I did between 8 and 13 years old. So schizophrenia or other kinds of psychoses aren't my problem. I think it is all about a simple fact. I am a misfit and I don't accept the values of the place I was born and raised. Simple like that. If I was smarter I would build my own town, or find a way to live in a better country and don't feel or don't care for being treated as a stranger.
But I am not smart enough to solve real problems of life, identity and existence in general and the only thing I can do with myself is to paint in a tiny room pathetically posting its production on a blog.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for your attention, hope my English skills didn't bother you so much as the few I learned of it was watching sitcoms on TV and listening punk rock. And no way in hell I am going to express myself with the language of this place where I .... ( hard to admit , hard to say in loud voice )... I am from and live.
( if it really exists ;) .

Al the best.
Caio Fern, Der Konig von Mein Welt.

-------------------------------------------------------------

photos taken one week ago when I needed shower, shaving, clean clothes and some sleep... I was exhausted ... yes , I was filthy and feeling disgusting

Internet before Internet - Fanzines and cassette tapes - and my "band"

2011-08-02T11:34:00.011-03:00

No, I am not going to be nostalgic and say ; ohhh, good old times. No, everything is much better with Internet, no doubt about this. But before was fun too.

Digging my old stuff here at the attic I found few fanzines and remembered I used to publish some at the late 80's and 90's.

Fazines started with the punk movement on the middle/late 70's, more specifically with the Punk Magazine at NY, soon this concept took the whole world as was easy to produce and spread.

Here in Sao Paulo it was the salvation for our lives. Late 70's and early 80's the country was under dictatorship and a simple photocopy page could be considered subversive making you go to jail and even be tortured, but was the only alternative for getting information.

When I stared my first fanzine it was 1988 and I was only 13 years old. The country was running to become a democracy and dictators weren't on power anymore. My fanzine named FORA. ( OUT ) was about garage bands of the Sao Paulo's scene, a little bit of other Brazilian cities as Belo Horizonte and Porto Alegre ( where had scenes tiny but cool things and bands happening ) and what I could get about other countries scenes as well. It was about punk, straight edge hardcore , skinhead Oi, phychobilly, extreme metal, British post-punk and gothic, British indie, and the so called American indie rock of the time as Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr, Beat Happening and things like that... even Mudhoney. I was listening everything with no prejudices

Now to keep reading this I will have to really transport you to the Sao Paulo City of the time. Brazil didn't have any rock magazine except for Rock Brigade, a miracle with many small articles that helped a lot, and another one I forgot the name but was an initiative of the big multinational corporations of the phonographic industry to talk only about their "products".

At the same time, even leaving the political dictatorship the country was still under a policy that any kind of importation from any other country was forbidden. Not saying the devastation the hyper-inflation that was able to destroy the most simple plans you could make for your life.

Well, we kids wanted to listen music . We had no official press for any kind of information. The phonographic industry here only released the very very American or English mainstream albums, only what was huge success there. It means we only had crap at the record stores, TV, radios and magazines...and Brazilian music, that for who likes was still something kind of honest at that time to listen.

There was a place at downtown named Galeria do Rock.... at that time a very decadent all broken place where heroin and cocaine could be easily found. But all we kids into underground rock and culture in general used to go there. At that place had many stores with rare albums for sale, many stores about clothes and rock culture in general . As everything at the 80's and very early 90's , 70% of all was about Metal Culture. All the gangs used to go there for meetings , fights and listening music.

Information was such a rare thing that the only way we could have access to the image of the musicians and the bands was by the cover of the albums, back covers and pullouts. Only that. I remember, it was something as 1987, a guy appeared at the Galeria with 100 photocopies of the Misfits' images, he sold the photos for something like one USDollar each one... It was all sold in 5 minutes. Everybody wanted to see how they were. Incredible. Sure that this guy didn't get the money, a small Skinhead gang took it from him. Typical.

Albums of bands from other countries were so rare that became extremely expensive. So at the Galeria had many stores were you could see the albums displayed on the storefronts and hanged on the walls inside as they were posters. You only had to point which one you wanted and the owner of the store used to say : "are you sure ? will you really going to make me take this album from there ? " What happened is that he put the album to play, all albums were vinyl. After the first song he asked again : "did you like it , are you sure you want this ? " and then he made a cassette tape in front of you. Simple like that. This was the best way to listen all the bands and all the new albums reliesed all over the world and had just arrived to Sao Paulo by illegal traffic.

At evening we put all the cassette tapes into the pocket and went to see any band's shows at some distant periferic area of the city or one of the rare night clubs at downtown that used to open and have a short life. There was absolute no glamour, posers and rock'n'roll was faced in a very raw way. Not for coincidence the most authentic Sao Paulo and Brazilian bands were created during the late 70's and 80's releasing their albums by very small and amateur independent labels . All small labels had a store at the Galeria do Rock.

So now you have already a light idea of how was Sao Paulo rock'n'roll scene at the time.

So there was me at 1988 with 13 years old and the first edition of my new fanzine FORA.

I didn't receive many other fanzines on my mail box and I spent all my money making photocopy of 50 copies of my first edition and sending by regular mail to 'ziners" all over the city. I received two feed backs. Very frustrating. One of the guys told me the fanzine was about many different scenes. Yes it was right. For two reasons, I didn't have information enough about only one scene to fill a whole fanzine of 6 or 8 pages. And later because I was sick with not only the Sao Paulo's scene but all the 80's mentality of gangs and divisions all over the world : " if you listen Hardcore you must to hate Metal" and things like that. I wanted to write and show what I was listening alone, it means , all scenes at the same time.

The truth is that information was so rare and valuable that people able to receive good fanzines in Sao Paulo didn't want to share the addresses to you. It was like a Mafia. Not saying the fanzine collectors were able to get fazines from all over the world and didn't let you know about its addresses too. You really had to have contacts for getting information about bands. What a hell.

Well. As teenagers do in general I used to spend afternoons at some friend's bedroom drinking cheap alcoholic beverages or smoking pot or sniffing glue while listening our favorite bands. It was pretty much that, we barely talked. One day this friend of mine got so waisted that I was able to search for his collection of fanzines and found zines from many different countries, Spain, Germany, Argentine, Italy , Belgium, Netherlands, France, Mexico, Uruguay England, Ireland......

I took note of the address of every single one and went home.

Second edition here I come!! I had many subjects and even photos of local bands and shows. It was a 8 pages edition and I sent to all the countries I could. ( Important note: Americans at the time didn't care so much for the rest of the world. You can imagine my surprise when I started my blog and saw that Americans were 70% of all the visits and the largest number of people that have supported my works in many different ways !! Americans at that time seemed to have a huge prejudice, at least that was the impression we had, it was normal to listen people saying " oh , that is ok, they say this because they are Americans, you know, forgive and forget, at least they are a good band...." ... it was all the time we could have access to an interview of an American band and they made fun of any other country's audience. I remember that the Sonic Youth fanclub had a fanzine and one day I got one edition. They said something like " Sonic Youth is listened even at countries of totally ignorant alien people like Brazil where they think it is heavy metal". It hurts. So we had no connection with American fanzines or bands and few small labels sent catalogs of their albums when we requested, they didn't have any idea of what was happening out of their country except Great Britain. It was frustrating for obvious reasons : we loved American bands. Thank God time proved it was all only a horrible misunderstood. Underground Rock'n'Roll was a huge world community and it was really important to us, made us feel more important than governments and corporations.

After to send my fanzine's copies all over the world it took months not receiving any reply. Suddenly I receive on the same week two replies from Sweden and one week later one from Finland. They all were very nice , writing in a not very good English but thousands of times better than mine ( my fanzine was all in Brazilian Portuguese ). It took me one week to translate their letters. Their own fanzines about bands with similar sounds all written on their local languages. It was great. On the letter they asked me to send Sao Paulo's bands to then, they wanted to know all. Not only this, two of then sent me cassette tapes of very underground bands from their country and one said ;" I am sending you this money for all that is necessary". A considerable amount of money for a Brazilian kid like me that was living in a economic crises of huge hyper-inflation where the prices of everything raised more than once a day. So I took that money and went to the Galeria at the same time. There I would buy some records of my favorite Sao Paulo's bands and save some for the mail costs sending the parcel back to Sweden. The Swedish guy had luck. One of the stores that was an independent label too had hundreds of copies of one album for sale. This album was cheaper than one bus ticked and had too bands, was a "Split", one band on the A side and other on the B side . Both bands typical Sao Paulo's Hardcore Punk Style with influences of Carecas do Suburbuio ( a local kind of skinhead gang that only exists here ). After this I bought a "Restos de Nada" album too and one virgin cassette tape where I recorded "Garotos Podres".

Sent.

Again a couple of months with no reply . I produced a third edition of my fanzine , but before to send it to all the addresses I could the Swedish guy sent a reply... and on the same week many people from that country and Finland started to send me their fanzines and cassette tapes with their own bands recorded on it or other local bands, they asked me to talk about their bands. I did, I re-made the third edition of my fanzine including their bands, with photos and everything else. They also sent me money to buy records or asked me if I accepted to trade records with then. Sure, I'm in !

The third edition came out and was sent everywhere. I received replies from many countries. People thought weird that 20% of the fanzine was about american, english bands of many diferent kinds of sounds and scenes and 80% was about what was happening in Sao Paulo, Finland and Sweden. hahahah! All written in Brazilian Portuguese... made absolute no sense.

I used to buy all the independent Brazilian bands albums I could find and Brazilian bands demo tapes too. I sent to Italy , Spain, Germany , Norway, Denmark, Belgium and Argentina. Not saying the massive number of copies I had to send to Sweden and Finland. People asked for more. The hobbie became expensive to me only at first as I had to go to mail office almost everyday and send letters or parcels abroad. All the money they sent I spent with albums and cassette tapes, few was saved for mail. But it worths, they sent me many albums and cassette tapes with very rare bands too. Soon I became one of the coolest guys with very rare albums and didn't take too long for charging large amounts of money from other kids of my area to record my albums on their cassette tapes.

Life was going well but I could see the end. I wasn't dumb. I knew the Sao Paulo scene wasn't so big , not as big as the foreigner guys' demand. I used to send albums and demo tapes of bands from other cities too, even so wasn't enough. I knew they would want more and I would be forced to say ; "sorry guys, this is it, maybe next year, we can keep trading fazines".

Than I had the worse idea ever: My friend Marcos had a guitar and got a two track recorder, I think was a Tascan or something. He was listening bands like My Blood Valentine ( one of my favorites ever ) and Jesus and Mary Chain. I told him about my idea and said that would share the profits 50/50. Deal !!!! He agreed at the same time as he always liked to take advantage of people.

We would invent a band I would do the vocals on one microphone and he would play the guitar at the same time on other microphone. It would be the first part of the recording of the song as it was a two track recorder . On the second part I would do the sound of bass with my mouth and he would do the sounds of the drums with his mouth. And that was it . We recorded inside his house's bathroom.

Simple . We knew our audience very well, Scandinavian guys liked everything as extreme as possible , metal, hardcore , didn't matter , they wanted extreme noise and we could do that. When I recorded the vocal I didn't sing , I kind of barked: roar; bawl, howl, as loud as possible and at the end of the lyrics or sentences I kind of let the impression I was saying something in English but couldn't make too clear, so words as " kill, skull, hell, fuck, shit, misery" used to appear sometimes giving the impression that had real lyrics on that. Marcos played this guitar as fast , loud and distorted as possible. On the second part I recorded my voice doing bass sounds as doomdurumdurum doodoommm.... and my friend did the drums noises with his mouth. And in 5 minutes we had a new song. The name of the songs were very convincing : "Die" "kill" "Hate" " anger" Hell". hahahah!

The name of the band was in Brazilian Portuguese , "brain" something , like Cerebros Corruidos, Cerebros Destruidos, Cerebros Assassinos... some crap like that.

We recorded a 45 minutes "demo" tape spreading this masterpiece all over the world.

Conclusion : From everywhere people got amazed and asked if this band had an album or more tapes. Some said it was the craziest Brazilian band and one of the most violent bands of the world. I got in panic. Every week I received more and more letters from people asking me for the tape and more information about the band. I thought that would be caught and considered the biggest liar of the whole world. People would hate me more than they hated Ronald Reagan at the time. I could see my death: being lynched on the streets or in front of the Galeria.

My friend Marcos said it was our big chance:"Lets form a real band and tour the world". Sure , I was almost 14 years old and would tour the world."Shut up, I don't know anyone I can tell this story, anyone I can trust and call to join the "band".

So I got suicide and decided to publish an self destructive edition that was divided in two parts. One with photos of very poor Brazilian people starving on the streets saying : Cerebros Corruidos: this is the singer, this is his two years old dead baby, this whore with aids is the bass player, this stoned drunk murder holding a gun is the drummer, this crack addicted fag that does blowjobs for less than one US Dollars is the guitar player ( my joke to annoy Marcos ) and a story of how fucked up was the band and its horrible everyday life. The second part of the fanzine was an ( obvious fictional ) interview with Elizabeth Taylor as a totally decadent celebrity telling all the "truth", that she was a huge Death Metal fan and used to go to San Francisco visit the local hardcore scene and make anal sex with Jello Biafra, the Dead Kennedys singer, detail: Jello Biafra was the lady of the relationship. And I had access to her because she used to come to Brazil for doing drugs and date under age girls. On the supposed interview she totally stoned talked about the garage rock scene analyzing it as a real fan would do. There was another photo of Elizabeth Taylor "wearing" the classic "Let's Start a War" Exploited t-shirt and a Napalm Death tattoo on the fat groin ( this tattoo photo was taken from a local headbanger girl that was into extreme metal in general and was a friend of my friends ).

Nobody never believed on that, they saw it was a joke about the interview ( all in Brazilian Portuguese: ) It was all ridiculous and funny, had a photos of her hugging a very poor Brazilian whore, extremely obvious was a bad collage. But about the band... they got even more curious and 6 months later I felt forced to visit Marcos again and record a second demo tape, what only took 30 or 40 minutes. I sent the copies all over the world and everybody thought it was a crap and the band had lost its "mojo": "I think the drugs, aids and misery destroyed their creativity" I used to say on the letters. Nobody have never showed any interest for the band anymore. ufff... I was free.

I didn't sign the FORA fanzine with my name , at the time I used to do my "street art" , graffiti all over the city and used to sign Tiopio... long story. So that was my name .

Many of my contacts were lost on the very beginning of the 90's. Later with Internet I tried to find the ones I remembered the name but didn't get any.

1996 I started a fanzine about poetry, all in Portuguese, it had few editions and never called too many attention, I only sent to Sao Paulo's people. The name of this fanzine was "A Estranha Existencia do Ser" ( "the strange existence of the being" : something got lost with the translation... no wait... the title sucks in any language :) .

During the 90's I don't know if fanzine started to become less interesting or if I wasn't more into that as Brazil had had drastic changes and was a much better country for getting information, so I even still received fanzines about the industrial and cyberpunk scene in Belgium or Germany, few garage rock fanzines made in Brazil about local and American scene.... I couldn't void , they just arrived.

Then with Internet it all got lost.

I must to say, Internet is 100 times better, I don't miss that time at all, it was all expensive , hard , lots of work, few information and took a really long time to send and receive back.

But when people say Internet changed the world completely my first reaction is to affirm:" not so much, I do what I used to do more than 20 years ago, now is only easier, cheaper and faster". But yes , Internet changed everything for better and I would never have my work out there if wasn't for this. Not even by fanzine... didn't exist fanzines about visual art and wouldn't change anything if had ones all over there. I don't trade this great blog situation for what happened at the past for nothing on this world.

I don't know what happened with my originals of the FORA ( maybe at my mother's ) and I have here two originals of the Estranha Existencia do Ser. Not proud of that, they are really ugly. hahahah! very very amateur.

But the best part...now it has Americans here on the blog and it feels complete ! Welcome to this brand new international world, Newcomers, hahah!

What people call internet-blogs, to me can not be only considered an extension of the fanzine and cassette tape. It is much more opened and complete now, more democratic and easier. Sometimes when posting I still see myself as a ziner, very free and having fun. And with absolute any of the concerns about editing and publishing and copying I had at the time.

Even so there is one important thing to say. Before all was made totally independent, didn't have companies to support and keep your blog or site available and accessible. Didn't have companies to provide Internet , so maybe now we are a bit more dependent of companies in general and government's infra-structure . It is good to remember we still can have other and more analogic alternatives for information and get rid of what corporations and governments want us to know. Brazil is today the country that has more articles deleted on Internet, it means that it has censorship in a very strong way. And we aren't talking about a self proclaimed not democratic country like China .

Brazil is a western country ( yes , western, I saw an Internet article on an important site where the critic of cinema wrote that got impressed with how the animation Rio blends Brazilian culture with Western culture so well, fuck off ) where the government proclaims to be the biggest democracy of the world with the biggest number of votes during an election ( not forgetting here you are forced to vote ). So if this level of censure is happening here can happen everywhere.

ahhh... another long post. put the blame on this delicious green tea... took a whole bucket of it now. hahahah! I must to be sounding like an old guy remembering the good old times....No way, I am really happy for the fact that past is over !

Saatchi on line , the site of the Saatchi Gallery chose this Caio Fern work as Art of Day 7/24/2011

2011-07-24T10:21:00.002-03:00

http://www.saatchionline.com/art/Painting-Acrylic-No-Tittle/85288/1309748/view

Saatchi on line , the site of the Saatchi Gallery chose this work as Art of Day 7/24/2011

http://www.saatchionline.com/art/Painting-Acrylic-No-Tittle/85288/1309748/view

I am a fucking gentleman !!!!!!!!

2011-07-13T15:31:00.004-03:00

Today answering an email to a friend I remembered of this story:

I told her that wouldn't post this story because people never believe on what I say... but , fuck off , I had fun remembering this:

Women are weird... a long time ago I was in my friend's studio, he used once a week to give painting classes. I didn't know that day would have class and went to visit him for going out for drinking. The studio had something like 10 women, all middle age. I sit on a corner for waiting 2 hours till the class finish and we be able to go out. I was happy, all the students were fan of my work. hahahah! a real surprise. At the time his studio was near the Funarte , a cultural centre at downtown and I was having an exhibition there. So all the students had visited my exhibition. It was the year of 2000.

I went to the kitchen and one woman came after me, she was nice saying that liked my work, blah blah blah... and said : "my husband never beats on me, we are married for more than 20 years and he never even slapped me. I hate him". My reaction was "what?!!!" , she was there complaining that her marriage was in crises because her husband have never beaten on her, not even spanked. So I asked: " If I beat on you do you sleep with me?" She laughed pretending that was shy and said yes .So I punched her right eye ( I am left handed) , she almost fell back. She got very scared and I told her to go back to her husband. She felt very humiliated and went away with her brand new black eye, didn't even said good buy to the other students. My friend came to talk to me, he was very angry and said it was his place of work, that this is how he pays the rent. I replied saying that she asked for this, I just delivered. I AM A FUCKING GENTLEMAN.

But I don't think my punch and attitude scared the other students, when the class was over one of then came to ask if could buy one of the paintings I had exhibited at the Funarte, I said yes and she gave me the check right there at the same time.

So that night I went to drink with my friend super happy and satisfied. I had saved a marriage and had a fat check in my pocket.

You know, a serious artist must to be a hero sometimes doing the right thing and giving the good example.

Because Fuck You, That's Why ------- Acrylic on canvas by Caio Fern 2011

2011-07-10T14:23:00.002-03:00

I do think this painting is just perfect for what I have felt these last days.
I wrote yesterday these little text and posted about consolation prize and life in general.
Since yesterday I've been fine and in peace with God but still have the same feeling about all the rest.
One thing that got in my memory all this last week was this photo I found on Internet , I don't know who the author is.... the dog and the sentence " Why?...That is why " . I loved to think about how simple it is and I laughed a lot.
On this painting I tried to be as dry as possible , fast and ... well... this simple. I think I got. I got satisfied , I few hours ago and decided to post now after to spend the last 3 hours looking to it.
This is so my life and feeling now ... so faithful !

even so I see the photo and think it sucks.

this is what I wrote and posted yesterday:

"fucking consolation prize.
this is all I got my entire life... this is all God promises to me .
doesn't matter what happens, it is all too late..... consolation prize is my life while death bites my neck.
I wake up lost, everyday this pain in chest since I was a child.
what can you offer to me ? fuck you , it tastes like consolation and charity after all have crewed up. I gave my best , what did I get?
fuck you .
there is nothing life can do to me. I hate you."

today is your Birthday.

2011-05-23T15:27:00.001-03:00

Today after to wake up I stared the mirror and said : HELLO SWEET PIE !!!!!

Happy Birthday old pale swollen corpse with a ridiculous mustache, more hair on the chin than on the shaved balls and with a horrible self-home-made haircut.

Happy Birthday not recognised loser painter with no money and a mediocre job that barely pays the bills. Hope you have fun today watching that stupid 3D Thor movie at a crappy Down Town's movie theater and buying a cheap birthday cake that only tastes like trans fat at the stinky supermarket on the way back home with that fat bitch that hates you and thank God doesn't want any commitment but is the only pussy you have to fuck closing eyes and imagining someone decent.

Happy Birthday ghost that posts in bad English because the people of your own country doesn't know you are alive and the few ones that know this want to see you dead.

Happy Birthday you that is one year older and 15 years late for everything in this useless life waisted with facts you don't even remember because was too drunk.
Hope you have many more years ahead and all your dream suddenly happen as magic.
And please don't get in trouble on the street just because you don't have nothing to lose. Remember that at least , even looking pretty sick, you are still irresistible and smoking hot and this is what matters, right? Right?!!!! Riiiiiiiiiight!!!!!!! Good boy.

And Jesus loves you, you bet He does. Everything is going to be all right. I am going to make things work.
Yes I am
Yes I am
I am so happy and full of hope now.

Ok, let's brush my teeth, shave the facial hair,take a long shower, use the best perfume , wear the best clothes, the best pair of shoes and face the day as shinny and sharp as possible. I feel I am a spiritual blade and will cut the destiny now. I will not let life kills me. I will take the world doing what I know: Being myself. Simple like that. And survive just for despite .

Mein Welt: Kikked Magazine published Caio Fern

2011-04-01T09:17:00.000-03:00

Mein Welt: Kikked Magazine published Caio Fern: "Kikked Magazine published Caio Fern Kikked Magazine is about visual art in general and on their Feb 2001 Issue 8 they published about ..."

Painting = Silent Weapon - Winsor & Newton - Vintage Advertising Campaingns - ART AS SUBSTITUTE OF GOD !!!!!

2011-03-23T13:32:00.002-03:00

Painting = Silent Weapon - Winsor & Newton - Vintage Advertising Campaingns - ART AS SUBSTITUTE OF GOD !!!!!

http://www.winsornewton.com/news/new-products/vintage-advertising-campaigns?lang=gb&utm_campaign=1107369105&utm_content=1032235084235&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Emailvision

I found this article about vintage Winsor&Newton's Campaign. It is so appropriated, I really liked. I have used Winsor & Newton paint since 1999 and since 2000 exclusively this brand as I really care about posterity of the works and quality when painting. It made me glad to find this poster. It is from the Second War ..... what makes sense.....But makes me ask for how many generations have we been taught to believe that art can be used as weapon......Isn't this too common sense ? And for how long, centuries or decades have we believed that art can make real difference? Wasn't like that at the beginning of the civilization and Art History. Who has/had the interest to teach this and keep it alive? Why? And why people believe that it is true? I learned this when was at the Kinder Garden already? Was I victim of brain wash? With what interest it was done to me? When it started? And if it is all wrong? Why did the society started to substitute the idea that God, Moral and spirituality wasn't the solution for Freedom or the Truth anymore but art and the men's invention was ? People that puts its faith on art isn't different that people that puts its faith on science or money. For how many years will I fight to clean the masonry and illuminati's influence on the society for the last 4 centuries from my life, body, mind and soul ? I WANT TO GET RID OF THIS WORLD.

Posted by Caio Fern at 9:28 AM

Labels: art History, Deus, moral

6 comments:

Caio Fern said...
paint this up... Linda !!!!
March 23, 2011 9:50 AM

Anne Huskey-Lockard said...
Hey Caio,I've always felt people who are afraid of art are people who have a lie to tell and think an artist might portray the truth.I am not saying art hasn't been used as propaganda, but currently we are facing massive cut to the National Endowments for the Arts and Public Broadcasting, and certain political wanna-bes and pundits are *demonizing* the arts as a whole, and anything art related.Well, maybe it's because we don't bow to their political, divisive whims. Maybe we have a little more intelligence~~maybe want an opposing viewpoint to be able to conscientiously consider before forming an opinion.I have no answers other than the times I am living in are unkind to artists wanting to portray the truth of what is going on. Never thought I would see the day either...XXOO~~♥Anne
March 23, 2011 10:05 AM

Caio Fern said...
Hello Anne !!! i was only asking why we were taught to worthship art in general. i think it is a little bit deeper than politics. It is about spirituality.
March 23, 2011 10:12 AM

Caio Fern said...
other thing.... is another , totaly diferent subject to me ... but here in Brazil government uses art for alienating the poor population.
March 23, 2011 10:14 AM

Anne Huskey-Lockard said...
Hmmm....that is sad and interesting that they do that with art. The business of art being only for the wealthy.I don't know why it is not an accessible item to everyone. There have been too many strings attached to the whole thing.People need to just make art. And I agree--I think there is a particular spirituality to it, at least when I work. (an aside, my minister is having me speak to a confirmation class about Spirituality in Work....ought to be interesting...)I wish there were no politics involved in it at all.That's a dream! ;-)XXOO~~♥Anne
March 23, 2011 10:20 AM

Caio Fern said...
that is a dream...but for the last thousands of years art and politic = power... were always closed related. 99,9% of the masterpieces wouldn't exist if the royal familys and richer familys weren't behind suporting it production. So we must to learn to deal with it and be ble to put our particular view of world, human being and feeling despite all the money and power involved. even so all this only started, again, not for political issues... i was only asking why and how all the modern civilization substituted it real spiritual values for aesthetical values . http://www.winsornewton.com/news/new-products/vintage-advertising-campaigns?lang=gb&utm_campaign=1107369105&utm_content=1032235084235&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Emailvision

Does it ?

2011-03-17T09:24:00.000-03:00

I don't know how it all started, again. I don't understand and can't deal with it. All the scientific , psychological, religious , spiritual and artist approaches seen to be incomplete and fail after some time. Sincerely, Kardecism is the one that gave the most complete answers but it all sounds just like a really good doutrine at the end.... only a doutrina. I can't deal with the idea of existing. I paint my own face thousands of times and try to go deep it , I analyse myself compulsively all the time everyday, I pray , I meditate, I go beyond what was taught me ....... at I get so self-centred that I don't exist to myself, I can't believe it happens , existence. What?!!! I don't know , I can't . All this ups and downs towards nowhere. Such unfair. Sometimes I look to the very selfish people or the ones with high level of vanity ( as I was much different )..... and think this are typical defensive behaviour of who is afraid of life and its own existence on this world. Can you blame then? But everything is more than this , I don't even know why I diverged here taking this sidetrack. Because is easier ,I guess. I don't understand nothing, now I can't feel existence passing by my body as a eternal energy, infinite and unadulterated and full of Authority as Universe must to be. Why? Why does this happen? Why do I feel like an ephemeral piece meat? Sometimes I go off and feel that must to start all over again. Why? I didn't do nothing wrong, as a matter of fact I improve myself spiritually and morally everyday. Why, do I feel so out of step with the Whole Existence that I can't even paint a face. Or paint anything else? Or do anything else? I think that the cause of my depression is the doubt that I exist, the feeling that it is all fiction and worse that "there is nothing I can do", is "there is no reason to do anything".

Welter digital collages. Mein Welt Deco - Aterces Adiv brand.- by Caio Fern

2011-03-16T15:17:00.014-03:00

SLAM FAD #140- Caio Fern: From Mein Welt, With Love - Slam Magazine by Terri Lloyd .

2011-03-16T14:41:00.002-03:00

SLAM FAD #140- Caio Fern: From Mein Welt, With Love - Slam Magazine by Terri Lloyd .
SLAM FAD #140- Caio Fern: From Mein Welt, With Love Slam Magazine . SLAM FAD #140- Caio Fern: From Mein Welt, With Loveby Terri Lloyd
© Caio Fern

SLAM: Caio, you were born in Brazil and you studied psychology at Universidade Paulista. When did you become an artist? And how does your education influence your work?

C - As a matter of fact I was already producing visual art before to decide about college and what to study. When I started to work with the intention of producing something for real ( 1995 ) I was 20 years old and experimented many medias including computers and technology related materials. Psychology was a choice I took because believed that it would give me a better way to go deeper into the art work . I never had the intention of being a professional psychologist, only worked with this for few years and dropped. So my art has influence on my scientific way to deal with myself . Studying it helped me to see human being in a less romantic way and with less ideologies too. I can say the science gave me a good level of freedom to explore myself with no conceptual excuses.
© Caio Fern

SLAM: It’s been stated that you are sometimes described as a realist with a highly individualistic style. How you do see yourself and your work? Do you find this assessment accurate or is this just another label to perhaps help us cope with the deeper intensity and exploration of your works?

C - I don’t mind when people talks about realism when see my work . I think it is funny . I am laughing now. It isn’t wrong at all. All my paintings are result of observation . Light can give all that is necessary for self expression . I really try to do not be creative . I believe that creativity is a weakness, a resource you use when aren’t able to deal with things the way they are . It happens with me, sometimes I have to go beyond of what is considered reality . But it is still real . There is no lie or fiction. Is only reality by other angle . My way to see and deal with reality is extremely subjective and lonely. When I look to my works… they are hipper-realistic to me. But I get surprised when see people calling that realism or “a kind of realism” . I really didn’t expect that people would be able to see this way . Most part doesn’t .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: You have stated that “the intention of your work is to be impressive exactly by the fact that it has nothing impressive about this.” Is this minimalist or do you find this to be perhaps more aligned with a zen, if you will, type of intent?

C - I don’t like to see me as a minimalist , even less with the 20Th century’s concept of it . Because this idea would never allow me to go further and deeper into my work if was adopted, it would never fulfill my needs . About art today, it is the opposite, it is trying to impress too much .It seems that it is made for teenagers, maybe because is a very immature society . It is extremely Rococo and at the end all you have is thousands of exhibition with very impressive works that doesn’t feed, making you go back home with that feeling of “whatever”. It is all shallow . Even more with Tumblr , Flickr, blogs, so many art-fairs , biennials….. where you have to capture the viewer as fast as possible making it easy to digest . Art has became something very similar, if not identical , advertisement . I only want to develop a work with no frames or ornaments inside it . Simple and direct … but that allows the viewer to have a long relationship with it for many years . If sometimes my painting causes impact, I want to make it sure that has much more than this, that you can look to this for your entire life and will always discover and rediscover the work. Sounds contradictory , I know, being direct , simple and at the same time having so many layers of perception to be experimented for years .
© Caio Fern

SLAM:”Reductive” is also a word you’ve used in relation to your work. So is “a lack of spice.” How so? C - Yes , Reductive is what I believe the best way to describe my work . It has the intention to reduces the feelings and attention of the viewer towards a target . There is nothing else, only focuses on that and go deep . Any distraction is going to be allowed . That is the reason I choose this word as the name of one of my books . Lack of spices is pretty much about this too . It is interesting you put the both expressions here together .

© Caio Fern

SLAM: This is a fabulously audacious thing to say, ” …only mediocre people produce with no pretentious [pretense]. Art is about pretentious [pretense], is about to go beyond. Even my smaller drawings has the pretentious [pretense] of an entire empire.” Do you think artists today are losing the pretense or vision of their individual empire’s? And why do you think this is?

C - This is a thing that annoys me a lot about my culture . Everything here is too Bossanova , everybody wants a easy life with small inoffensive pleasures and any real commitment , any real target . Sometimes in Brazil the word ambition is seem as a sin . It has only created mediocre artists happy for spending the entire life doing plin plin on the piano or acoustic guitar singing about coconut water and teenager ass . With visual art isn’t different, everyone here only wants to follow some world’s trend because it is easier , pretty , correct , acceptable . When I get into my studio , I don’t accept anything nice or acceptable . I want to go beyond everything I have ever done and breed my own universe doesn’t matter the cost of it . On the entire world I see artists of all the generations and styles with that mentality of ” I want to do something cool” . Fuck the cool . I want something real ! If an artist hasn’t a very personal way to see him/herself and the world… so get out of my way, the world doesn’t need more people putting in practice the same values over and over again . We already have bad corporations and horrible governments doing that for us .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: What is particularly refreshing is to hear, read, you say how much you love your work. Often this is not a widely acceptable acknowledgement of what an artist does. Do you think it takes courage to be yourself, love yourself, love what you do? Or is this a necessary component to further exploration –of self, art and process?

C -I prefer to make clear that I need this as I need air . During the last decade I tried to give up of producing art and even hated art in general. But life forced me to keep doing it . At the hardest times only art was there by my side. It is very corny to say , hahah!! But is totally true . At the end the few real satisfaction I had in my life wasn’t traveling around the world or fucking a perfect pussy, helping poor people, planting trees and defending animal rights, eating a 4 cheese pizza, having friends …… but was finishing a good painting . How do I know if it is a good painting ? I only feel . It is very personal and I can’t say it applies to another artists , but all I need in my life only art can offer . I don’t know how sad or good it is … but that is the way it works with me .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: Something one notices when spending time with your works, is the influence of Punk Rock, Ramones, Misfits, Pettibon, in your work. Would you speak to SLAM readers about this?

C - One thing I really like is that when people talk with other artists about their influences they always talk about visual art , but when they talk with me about my influences names as Ramones and Misfits appears . Isn’t that great ?! hahah!!! I am serious , it really makes my day. The idea of Reductive came exactly because of punk rock : direct, intense and sincere . No guitar solos or frames , no bullshit . Cut off the crap . No conceptual excuses , no text behind . Do what must to be done and fuck off. About Raymond Petybon… I spent many years in my bed listening the albums and looking to the covers . His work was there in a way that was extremely good and reachable. I remember that my friends and I used to say : “He doesn’t look like an artist, he is real ” . Yes , I agree his work is very illustrative and sometimes even descriptive, but his ability to make the image “happens” used to fascinate me . Misfits , I think it is brilliant about everything, but Ramones is where you can find the real geniality . I like to tease people saying that Ramones is the only real form of art created on the 20Th century . I am only teasing and I know it really annoys everyone . But has some truth about this . If the Reductive idea found a form on the last century was with then . Everything that matters is there extremely concentrated. I still listen then in my studio, they are great teachers always helping me to do not lose the track .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: One would think that the influence of Punk might contribute to your statement regarding the importance of cheap supplies in the studio, “for you do not feel remorse to only sketch or try different things.” It is encouraging the artist to keep working and yet it also is a wonderful way of saying “ha ha fuck you, I’ve got pretense and cheap supplies!” Is this part of your underlying humor?

C - It made me remember now when I was starting to paint . I was very arrogant, almost as much as I am now .hahah!! I used to go to the galleries to see the exhibitions and I always got a smile on my face saying : “hahah!! my work is ten times better than this and cost 100 times less to be produced !!” The experience showed me in a fast way how important is to use really good material supplies for painting . Not only concerning about the way it looks and the possibilities for going deeper into that , but about the effects of time on it . I want to have a very well preserved work in the future . The idea of having cheaper supplies in the studio comes much more from the fact that I have no money to buy the best paints and canvasses all the time and it can make you stop before to do something you’re not sure about the results . So having cheaper stuff will help you do not have to think twice before to do anything. Do it and shut up , stop to complain about the money .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: Would you talk to us about Mein Welt? What is it? Where is it? How did this evolve?

C - Mein Welt . Long story in a very short way . In 2002 I isolated myself from the world in a dark old dusty haunting house for cleaning myself from my own life . I even left the art market , my last solo exhibition was in 2002 and after that year I wasn’t working with any gallery anymore . I started to paint again only in 2004 or something , and very few works . The Mein Welt idea was because I started to create an new universe to live with all the new values I was developing ( moral , ethical, aesthetically ). Exists my old humor inside this but I was really serious . Or I killed the world inside me and the life I had had or I would kill myself . I wouldn’t accept middle term . Mein Welt came when I was empty of all , it fulfilled my life . Was a search for a new life with beauty and peace . Something very rare when you are born and raised in Sao Paulo doesn’t matter you social class or origins . This was a period from 2004/5 to 2009. I realised in 2010 that I could keep my life going beyond of what was called Mein Welt , but it is the essence of what I live today , all my actual personal values for the everyday life were built on this period. Today this is my nationality . I consider myself a Welter , and intend even to take my own passport as a Welter very soon. When people asks me where I am from my answer is : “- From Mein Welt , sure , don’t you recognise by the typical accent ?”. Trust me , it isn’t a joke to me .
© Caio Fern

SLAM: You’ve written about how the Internet is changing the way we see art, how it influences art production, and that it also access to the learning about art. However, you’ve also stated to view art in person, is totally different relationship. (We agree!) That there is a physical power and presence when one is in front of art. But in front of a computer screen art is weak, boring.Do you see this changing, and if so, how? Is this something that will get better over time, or something else all together?

C - Yes , it has changed . It has changed the way to see art , to discover new artists , to negotiate art , to study , to learn , to relate with art institutions and galleries, what is very good for somethings….. . About aesthetic values I won’t judge if it is going to be good or bad , but I am very optimist about it too. New medias and new ways to deal with the old ones are always welcome . I have met and talked with artists today that have produced only thinking about how it is going to look after posted on their blogs or pages . It isn’t bad at all. Not that I have any interest to produce thinking about how people will see it by their computers or whatever is the media they are going to use . I still paint for the person that is in front of the work . My only fear is that it starts to create more mainstream trends increasing gaps between artists with different productions in the market. What is very easy to happen and when I read blogs of art critics in general I start to feel this approach. It is interesting for art institutions , galleries , curators and critics to have as much people as possible thinking, doing and consuming the same . So Internet that so far has being a vehicle for alternative aesthetic values have a chance to exhibit itself and show that exists, what was almost impossible before, can be used to convince a larger number of people “what is good and what isn’t” or ” what must to be followed and what mustn’t” . I hope that collectors, new artists, and audience in general don’t be so stupid to fall into that .
© Caio Fern

SLAM – In this regard, you’ve stated, “I am here, producing what I want and sending a big FUCK YOU to the system. This is the sensation of the governments and corporations don’t want you to have…. this is the real freedom.” Are you an anarchist? Do you feel that art is perhaps a subversion from the norm, and act of anarchy?

C - Last week I send an email to a dear friend of mine saying how much I hate to be an outsider . I am an outsider because a guy that burns bridges, has a big mouth and more than everything : develops a work that is totally not related with any aesthetic or conceptual trend of the contemporary market … will not be invited to exhibit its work at the Tate Modern so soon. I don’t give a big FUCK YOU because is an ideal , but because this is what I do , simple like that . And nobody gave me the chance do NOT behave that way . I wish I was a very formal and conventional person shaking hands and having the work recognised as it should be . But is hasn’t happened so far . hahah!!! I don’t want to be part or apart of any “system” , I only believe that my work and I should be treated with more respect . But I have no doubt that art is the only human activity with power to subvert and norm . One of the facts that made me go to the college to study Psychology and not art , is because I didn’t want my name related with any academic art institution . DIY is something I take very seriously.
© Caio Fern

SLAM – Caio, you have also produced a couple of books. You wrote one, “Alemão.” It is described as a love story between two characters that grew up together and decided to give up of understanding or belonging to the world creating their own values and life style… the novel exposes contemporary values by the point of view of who lives at the other side of the concept of globalization and new world.That’s a powerful statement. Would this reflect some of the intensity found in your art?

C - I don’t see difference between what I write and what I paint. One doesn’t complete the other and they could exist alone . I am the same person on both , I can’t change that . The book Alemão is very realistic, all you read there happened at the time the story is told ( between 1990 and 2009 ) . It isn’t a self-biographical work but there is no fiction there . The book tries to put down myths about racism , globalization, tolerance, bureaucracy in a ‘United World” and show how it all can sound as bullshit when you are at the “wrong side” not just of the world but of the life ” . The main characters are victims of other people’s values and it totally screwed their lives and minds . But isn’t a negative book . As it is described : “A love story “…. yes , an extremely not conventional love story . But beautiful . I believe that this book is edgy about everything , including aesthetically . The prove of this is that everybody starts to read the book and send me emails saying that have started . I have never received one single email of a person that have finished it .hahah!! I know that many ones got revolted and very angry . So , please , never buy my book , I don’t need more people hating me . hahahah!!

2011-03-16T14:36:00.000-03:00

2011-03-16T14:32:00.001-03:00

Hallo Welters that I love so much !!!!! How have you been ?! I have spent the last weeks doing nothing ... well almost nothing. So I am here today only to say this . well... I took care of my aquariums and my project to develop perfect ecosystems in closed environment..... I must to say that I am very proud of the results. I am going to post here two very very short texts I recently posted on my Tumblr... one sure is written by me and the other, the animal rights one, I only reblogged and I don't know who wrote it. But i am totally pro and I believe the author won't mind if I spread the word.... even because it was said millions of times. I hope to be back soon with paintings, visiting the blogs and maneging my beautiful glorious land Mein Welt. Tchau !!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------about Japan, yes I got sad , sure…………..but what makes me get upset as a matter of fact is…. similar tragedies happen in Latin America all the time and nobody cares, the news don’t talk about , people don’t want to donate nothing …….. we have to deal with all this alone, but if Japanese , Americans, Europeans or rich countries get some tragedy everybody cries and donate millions. You see celebrities on TV saying bullshit and starting campaigns… yes , it is right , people have to do something to help and care… but only when it happen with the richest?Don’t the poor deserve any real consideration ?The truth is that we South Americans are building your lives and economies with nobody’s help…. as a matter of fact , with the entire world playing against us all the time for decades….. and now some South American Countries as Brazil are among the main Global economies…… so……. What kind of relationship do the rest of the world intend to develop with a country that has international influence on global politics and economy but have never received any kind of help from anyone? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Animals on fur farms spend their entire lives confined to cramped, filthy wire cages, and fur farmers use the cheapest and cruellest killing methods available. Foxes, minks, coyotes and rabbits – and even dogs and cats – are bludgeoned, genitally electrocuted and often skinned alive for their fur.Despite knowing about the suffering that goes into every fur-trimmed coat, hat, and bag, MANGO has made the cruel decision to continue selling the skins of dead animals in its stores.Tell MANGO executives that you’ll boycott the clothing retailer until it stops selling fur for good.Many of MANGO’s competitors and other top retailers – including Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, Gap Inc., H&M and Forever 21 – have stopped selling fur."The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated"Mahatma Gandhi

2011-03-16T14:32:00.000-03:00

Weekly News von Mein Welt. Subvertion and art market.

2011-02-18T17:29:00.003-02:00

Welllllllllll, there are any really new news but this logo above is going to be the one used for news here.Any news except the fact that you must to have seen this week my work appeared on the art sites Booooooom ( thank you Jeff ) and The curious Brain ( thank you Michael ), see the link on the post below. Arthoes opened its doors too and now you can find many new artists including me ( Thank you Syd ) . Again see the posts below. Other day had an art critic screaming on twitter :” Subversion where have you gone?” . This guy only cares for art market and its politics, even his little art production only talks about the little NY art world, it isn’t even art talking about art, is art talking about market. You know who I am talking about.And it isn't art , is illustration , we must to give the proper names to the objects. I sent a link to him with my work and he blocked me from twitter after see and read a little bit. I must to say , he was even very nice and polite. really !! hahahah!Any idea of subversive, outsider, underground , alternative…. belong to the elites now.Real hard work artists that produces with sincerity giving the life for this …well…. we have ourselves.I don’t need labels of this world.SubversionSubversion in art , don’t worry , it is happening . We don’t have a such strong feeling of this because today has too many things happening at the same time and most part are mediocre. Other thing is when we think about subversive, Art History facts and names come to our mind in a very condensed way giving the impression that in the past lots of innovative things were happening all the time . We always talk about past as it was very intense . And it was , but for short moments , most part of the time events didn’t happen so fast one after the other. Don’t worry , innovations and subversion are happening. But What I want to know is…… what do people “want” to call and consider subversion and why they believe that need this so much? Isn’t any idea of subversion too well established and acceptable for the mainstream culture ? Too 20Th century ? I mean, the dumbest people I know are pro to any concept that presents itself as a subversive act. Why ? It happens even more in the art world. What is very contradictory. Art world always present itself as searching for innovations , vanguards, subversion….. but is the most conservative ”world” of all…. everything that happens on the visual art world happened decades before on music, cinema , then literature….. and thennnn….. ta da !!! Arrives at the art world landing as a really innovative ideas. It doesn’t represent the History at all but at least the last decades. So what people really want with this glamorous idea of subversion ? Pose ? An excuse for all the mainstream life they have had ?Other think I have seen .... it always existed but now with internet has been more intense, frequent and easier to detect.There are basically two kind of artists working and showing the works. I have called then : " The imposed artists" and the "growing artists" . Imposed artists : The ones that arrive to the public by the hands of curators, art dealers, critics .... by institutions, galleries.... They are imposed to the public , "experts" convince the viewer what is good , what must to be seen, what must to be bought and what must to be felt or thought. Growing artists : The ones discovered by the public, today by internet, alternative spaces for exhibitions of unknown or young artists... This ones are what the public wants to see, wants to buy and live with. They can even get popular but never will be exhibited on art institutions or "important" galleries because they weren't discovered by the specialists, exists lots of proud about this subject. A curator will never accept to exhibit an artists that was discovered before by the public and not by an specialist of the same social circle... doesn't matter how good is his work. The idea of calling then "growing" inst because their works are still growing , but because their popularity with the public is always increasing. Hope it all changes .. a more human and accessible art is necessary.

On Tumblr Mein Welt was already accused of “light”satanism and nazism…. hahahha!

What ?!!!!

this is funny , sad , but funny , lie , but funny.

Let then think this :D !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

call me paranoic .

2011-02-12T12:00:00.000-02:00

Call me paranoic , but sinse my last post on Mein Welt where I showed photos of local landscapes, I have recieved many comments and emails saying that I am lucky for living in a beautiful place and SHOULD STAY HERE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What do they mean by this ?
Just a little tip : Fuck you ;(
You don’t need to throw on my face I won’t never be welcome anywhere , I was taught about this sinse I was born . This is what I get for sharing . I had these photos sinse December and took this time to post because I was feeling that wouldn’t like the result .

http://meinwelt-22.blogspot.com/2011/02/cats-are-fine-juquehy-beach-house-bicho.html

Right and Left are both wings of the same beast.

2011-02-03T15:53:00.002-02:00

“ Why the Right Hates Art ” is what I saw here : http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/36874/bread-roses-and-the-republican-anti-art-agenda/?utm_source=nlda&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=newsletter by Ben Davis .
———————————————————
YES , it is right, they do hate . But the “left” art blogs, art critics , art sites , and magazines ( left is a funny concept in USA , that is the reason the rest of the world laughs making fun of Americans, American intellectuals should at least try to read about what left means ) never explain why the “left side of art” tries so hard to manipulate the art world, its production , its market , the moral and ethical values boycotting all artist of the world that don’t expose the same values . Left is the big capitalist mainstream in the art world . Have nobody noticed this ?
THE DICTATORSHIP COMES FROM BOTH SIDES .
left, right … are both wings of the same beast .
humble text by Caio Fern .
image by the ridiculous artist Ed Rucha 1973 ( sure , typical of that decade , it shows how stereotyped is the Ben Davis’ text that choose this image for the article ) .

I am an outsider saying : fuck you outsiders !

2011-02-03T15:25:00.002-02:00

by Anne-Lise Coste .
————————————————————————————————
Really , I ( Caio Fern ) don’t understand why have so many people saying it now .
When was art not professional in its all History ? The great genius and masters of all times were extremely professionals . And today , the irony is that the most mainstream artists on the main galleries , art fairs…. are saying this .
What is killing art are mediocre artists plus tolerance with it all plus academy that is infected by idiot hypocrite professionals and extremely stupid art collectors that believe in any crap buying it .
I don’t even put the blame on most part of the art dealers , the fact they are crappy people, the lower kind of human being on earth everybody knows , they will sell anything to anyone….
people that produces and buy art are the problem now .
and we must to really ask : Is there something really killing art ? Or only lots of mediocre people taking the place of the few brave good ones still producing ?
fuck off this “outsider’ speech . for the last 20 years everybody wants to have a punk attitude . what a common sense. This kind of people is very responsible to fuck my life and my carrier.
art needs real professionals … where are then … people that loves art and are competent ? people that really understand about art and make it happens !!!!
I need this kind of people in my life .

I don't know the how , but I know the YES .

2011-02-02T23:02:00.002-02:00

I don't know the how , but I know the YES .
dark miles for whom ?
I only see long kilometers under clear soft blue sky

Don't know, I don't know, she said .
Who knows? I replied, I don't know "The How" but I know "The Yes", I trust, It is here . Take it.

the forgotten opened doors of closet got so pretty revealing the old clean clothes hanged.....its colors breathing the silence of the weak light in atmospheres ready for departing tastes by wishes and the unavoidable present.

then...... the doors got closed. Lets keep the organisation and discipline.
my feet smile while my lips walk over unspoken loud words
this is all so easy

I love, quiet and in peace
I love exploding
Espirito , Alma , Perispirito, Aura
I love towards......beyond
What choice do we have now except being free?

EU SOU NOVISSIMO AGORA

-------------------------------------------------------------------

by Caio Fern 2011

Mein Welt: The art site Art of Day has posted about Caio Fern...

2011-02-02T23:00:00.001-02:00

Mein Welt: The art site Art of Day has posted about Caio Fern...: "Today the site Art of Day has posted about my work. Go there to check it out : http://artofday.com/wordpress/?p=3130 It is a very good site..."

Mein Welt: Closing the last year !!! Let's start a new Era ! ...

2011-02-02T23:00:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: Closing the last year !!! Let's start a new Era ! ...: "Hi ! How was your New Year's Eve ? Today I am going to put in practice a Welter tradition of every 6 months to..."

Mein Welt: Video with new artists by James Day.

2011-02-02T22:57:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: Video with new artists by James Day.: "If you want to discover new artists with talent visit this slide-show made by James Day for his site 'Art of Day' . Those are the artists po..."

Mein Welt: all the faces of my last Saturday night- Joe Tribi...

2011-02-02T22:56:00.001-02:00

Mein Welt: all the faces of my last Saturday night- Joe Tribi...: "http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RBwriblXbU No , don't call me a charlatan ... i am only following the Joe Tribiani's method of acting . mad..."

Mein Welt: WINO-STRUT NATION : a post about Caio Fern by Davi...

2011-02-02T22:56:00.000-02:00

Mein Welt: WINO-STRUT NATION : a post about Caio Fern by Davi...: "The L.A based artist David Phillips has posted about my work on his WINO-STRUT NATION . GREAT BLOG BY THE WAY , ABOUT ART AND MUSIC . check..."

art magazine Idea Fixa published Caio Fer's Work.

2010-12-28T19:04:00.002-02:00

The Brazilian Art Magazine Idea Fixa
http://www.ideafixa.com/revista/
Published this December on the 18th edition named Sonhos ( Dreams . ahhhhhhhhh........I am such a dream ) 3 works of mine .
Idea Fixa is a magazine about art , illustration , cinema , design , animation , motion , multimedia .
To see the Magazine you need only to click on the link http://www.ideafixa.com/revista/ and click on the cover . The e-version will appear and you will be able to turn the pages till find .... ME !!!
Thank you people of the Idea Fixa !!
http://www.ideafixa.com/revista/

Merry Christmas

2010-12-28T19:03:00.002-02:00

http://annsimaginationcreations.blogspot.com/ . http://annsimaginationcreations.blogspot.com/ .

The art site Art of Day has posted about Caio Fern's work. Dramatic Psychological Figurative Paintings by Caio Fern

2010-12-28T18:57:00.001-02:00

The art site Art of Day has posted about Caio Fern's work. Dramatic Psychological Figurative Paintings by Caio Fern

Today the site Art of Day has posted about my work. Go there to check it out : http://artofday.com/wordpress/?p=3130It is a very good site for artists , if you are an artist can submit your work and if approved they post an article about and they can even help to sell with a small commission if is your wish.So I hope you enjoy the site !Thank you Art of Day people . THANK YOU VERY MUCH JAMES !the tittle of the post of my works there is : Dramatic Psychological Figurative Paintings by Caio Fern - isn't this great ?http://artofday.com/wordpress/?p=3130

Shadow of a Child by Gabriella Mirollo

2010-12-27T15:27:00.003-02:00

Recently I received here in home sweet home Gabriella Mirollo's book Shadow of a Child.
This book contains wonderful poems that revel the writer's life in a personal and direct way with subtle ways to deal with feelings and perception. I do recommend this . So visit her blog http://www.twotigerscreations.blogspot.com/ and read more , get in contact with her about this book ;)
She posted about her birthday and the fact she dislikes Christmas because one is too close of the other and Christmas takes all the attention, what i think it is pretty fair as it happens with many children all over the world that born near Christmas. Now I received this book before Christmas but said to myself that would only post about after day 26, 27...... Gabriella has one more reason to dislikes Christmas now ! Sorry my dear .
I loved this book .

Beautiful gardem lost again

2010-12-01T12:51:00.003-02:00

beauty.....
...........................beauty

comes and go .
where is the beauty now ? It was right here yesterday .
I lost it again .

live gives
life takes .

beautiful garden
I lost it again .

Not a surprised , I have been prepared to this moment for a long time . It doesn't make the pain easier .
Last time , the sweet sun of the late afternoon licked the leafs and colors with sweet silence and solitude. The smells took my arms and I could only walk with mouth shut among all the tastes of the golden molecules of air .
I knew it was a good bye and there was nothing I could do .

Life have offered me this
Now life have taken back, not judging if I've made good use or not .

If I could put together all the beauty that was present in my life , I could built an entire empire of fairy tales and Heavens.
But beauty vanishes from my life .
Water run towards distant places . Wind pushes me to opposite directions .

I can only focus on my mind now .
Where all the broken memories are kept as a fragile treasure of illusions .

Anne is a Welter !!!!

2010-12-01T12:43:00.003-02:00

National Geographic August 1938
Anne & her family lived alone on an island. she enjoyed having tea time with her friends the spiny lobster and baby hawk.

ELIZABETH AVEDON: CAIO FERN: Slam Magazine Artist Interivew

2010-12-01T10:14:00.000-02:00

ELIZABETH AVEDON: CAIO FERN: Slam Magazine Artist Interivew: "Acrylic on Canvas (c) Caio Fern 2010 /All Rights Reserved Sometimes in Brazil the word ambition is seen as a sin... Slam Magazine Intervie..."

Slam Magazine interviews Caio Fern

2010-12-01T10:08:00.005-02:00

Today the Slam Magazine posted on their site an interview with me ( see it here - http://artslammagazine.com/?p=7415 )The interview was made by Terri Lloyd.( Terri's blog where you can find her really good works , trust me - http://www.hairycarrionarts.blogspot.com/ )Really , when i knew about the interview, with all the respect , but I was expecting lame questions as :" what are your main influences, when did you discover that was an artist ...." and things like that .But Terri questions where really good , she knew what was talking about and I felt like waves were breaking upon my head forcing me to answer it properly . She was fantastic . I had lots of fun and at the end I got really exited about .http://artslammagazine.com/?p=7415I do hope you enjoy this interview as I did .http://artslammagazine.com/?p=7415

Beautiful Decay Magazine talking about Caio Fern's painting production

2010-11-03T08:18:00.003-02:00

http://beautifuldecay.com/2010/11/02/caio-fernandes/#more-34101

the art magazine BEAUTIFUL DECAY posted about my work .

6 images with a really good , short , clean text by Julie Yeo .

you can see the post here :

http://beautifuldecay.com/2010/11/02/caio-fernandes/#more-34101

Note about the book Alemão

2010-10-20T09:08:00.002-02:00

Ok : It was discovered that the book Alemão was printed with a problem. What happens is that the very first chapter , with 4 pages, named "Inteview" was suposed to have the William Michaelian's ( http://recently-banned-literature.blogspot.com/ ) review for the questions .
I had asked William to re-write the questions made for the main character as was necessary a more mature , correctly spoken and with an touch of American North Western accent .
Willian did a great job and I got very happy with this .
But It was only my fault , I made a stupid mistake and used the old-original-messy version for printing the book.
It happened only with this tiny chapter-introduction even so I am devastated.
Sorry everyone for this that have bought the book for this .
I have no idea when it is going to be re-printed . But HEY !!: look by the bright side. You are going to have a rare version of the book with the original 4 pages chapter-introduction. When this book becomes a classic and a bestseller , your rare copy is going to worth a fortune.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alemão
Interview.
　
Recently a group of anthropologists, sociologists and psychologists based at a university in Oregon conducted a research project that focuses on German immigrants and their descendants in Brazil. The work included traveling to all Brazilian states that have received immigrants from Germany since the nineteenth century, and interviewing hundreds of citizens from this ethnic group to determine the influence its members have had on Brazilian history and society. During the interviews, which were recorded, the subjects were asked about their lifestyle and to tell their personal and family stories.
　
Research - Interview number 307.
- Hello. You speak English, correct?
- I think so, at least a little bit.
- You’re aware that you’re a volunteer for a research project we’re conducting at _________University about German descendants living today in Brazil , and that this work is being done in all the Brazilian states that have received German immigrants at some time in its history. You need only answer the questions you feel comfortable with. All of your personal information will be kept confidential.
- Yes, your workmates already explained all that with details. - Good. Name? - Nicholas Landgraft Schimidt.
- Age?
- Thirty-five.
- Address?
- Write only Campos do Jordão on it.
- State is São Paulo, correct?
- Yes.- What is your marital status?
- Married with children.
- How many?
- Two.
- Occupation?
- Businessman
- Any specific social class?
- Middle class.
- Do you have any brother and sisters?
- Three sisters and one brother.
- About your parents... what is their occupation?
- I am not going to explain anything about my parents to you now.
- Very well.... Your grandparents are German immigrants, correct?
- Yes they were, all dead now. From my mother's side, they arrived after Second War going first to Argentina and later coming to São Paulo. From my father's, my grandmother was born here , her parents arrived in São Paulo at the very beginning of 20th century and my grandfather came when he was very small with his parents after the First War.
- Would you like for us to arrange another meeting to talk specifically about their stories?
- No, I can't come here to São Paulo again… only for this. You can come to my house in Campos or if you prefer, it would be my pleasure to send by email.
- Email would be better.... Now, in a few words, how would you describe yourself? - Christian, husband, father, vegetarian.
- Other than your family, are you involved with any German community or group here in Brazil? If so, which ones?
- No. I don't have contact with anybody, German or not.
- Did you come to São Paulo City only for this interview?
- No, I came with my wife and kids to visit my family yesterday, it was my brother's birthday, and I thought would be a good idea to spend the day today doing this work.
- How do you think your story might contribute to our research?
- How am I supposed to know? I don't even know exactly what you are studying or looking for. I was told that you were looking for German’s descendants and telling their stories. I am here now. Listen to the story and judge for yourself. What I know is that from other people you are going to listen to a lot stories about successful families living happily in São Paulo or in small towns in the south of the country, everybody is happy living together, eating sausage with sauerkraut, chucrute as is called here, and eisbein all the time. It is all right, most part of the German families here have this very good life and I like to think this way. But I believe I am going to show you a different and unique story about German descendants.
- I see. Okay. Let me give a brief explanation. Previously, some research was done about German immigrants in the United States, and the project helped us understand their contribution to that country. It also helped us to better understand contemporary American culture. Our intention now is to do the same thing here in Brazil, with the hope to achieve the same kind of understanding. Then, after the project, we’re going to compare both countries from this immigrant perspective, to see what new conclusions we might make about cultural differences between the two countries.
- And why did you come to Brazil to study about Germans and all the people of your team speak only English? In your college didn't you find anyone that speaks Brazilian Portuguese or German for translations? Listen, I didn't know that when I arrived here. So I am going to speak the English I know and if you don't understand any part, it is your problem, I am not going to repeat or try hard.
- That’s fine. This is only the first group. Next year we will return with more people. We didn't expect that there is so many people that doesn't speak English here and don't even want to learn. By Internet we didn't have this impression.
- I think that my story can show how I felt apart from the society all my life and being German wasn't responsible for all but at least a small part of it. But this is only the way I see, it is my version of things. Nobody ever asked me to tell my story before or will ask me again. So this is a chance to share a life I believe that deserves to be told. But everybody believes that their lives could become a book, so maybe I am wrong. Even so, no names are going to be given, I know it is going to be confidential but this is the way I am going to tell this story. Only my wife's name and my own will be given. She knows I am here doing this and supports me about that.
- I understand. Okay, then. I’ll start recording now. You can begin from your childhood.... Are you ready? Okay... go.

Now it is published: Alemão by Caio Fern . The best novel of this generation. Already a classic .

2010-10-09T12:27:00.003-03:00

Now it is published: Alemão by Caio Fern . The best novel of this generation. Already a classic .
http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1639827..........It is finnaly publised !! ahhh!! What a birth !!I am so happy , you have no idea . Even so when pushed the button to publish it I felt sad ... now the characters don't belong to me anymore , they are out there living their lifes and there is nothing else I can do. They are independent now . It is sad ... really , hahahah!! After months working with the characters I started to like then as they as they were here by my side .http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1639827The Title is Alemão as you can see on the cover with a photo made by Maren Wieczorek . The backcover was made by me . haha!! Is a book writen in English with a title in Brazilian Portugues that means German.Is this an edgy and polemic novel? Ahhhhh.... come on !!! How can you think that ? When something polemic have come fron me in all this time you know my work? I am gentle and inofencive as a sweet breeze on the prairie.It was all written and published in English."A love story between two characters that grew up together and decided to give up of understanding or belonging to the world creating their own values ans life style . The story happens in São Paulo city , Brazil and in a small town named Campos do Jordão , Brazil's inside country. Among crimes , sexual violence and ruined familys the novel exposes contemporary values by the point of view of who lives at the other side of the concept of globalization and new world. Alemão means German in Brazilian Portugues and the subject imigration of Germans to South America is an important issue for the characters . Writen by Caio Fern. 242 pages".Plus : after the novel I published on the last 6 pages a short tale named : Giny, Araucaria and the Mountain.... as the landscape is the same and the two characters of the short tale appear on the novel too. I have posted this short tale few times in many blogs , but now it is all revised by Sandy Gunderson. As all the book.I do hope you enjoy reading this novel , only for 9 dollars, a real bargain.http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1639827And thank you very much for all that have helped me on this book . Without help it would never exists .http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1639827

new supplies

2010-10-06T19:02:00.003-03:00

This week i am going to recieve some money for buying new paint and ( i can't believe ) new canvasses .

I am not kidding , the last time I bought canvasses was in 2001 , when this one was made .

I had money and bought endless meters .... so good .

This time I am going to buy only 2 meters but it is going to be enough , next month I'll buy more .

This painting I am posting is small now . but it was part of a lager painting .

In 2001 I did an exhibition in a gallery that was well recieved by the critics and public . When the exhibition was all done, the opening night had happened and interviews finished ... I got in crises and didn't know what would be my next step.

I remember that went alone to a friend's apartment on the beach . There I spent one entire week out of reach hiding myself fron gallerist and people in general as the exhibition was still happeing .

Drinking 2 botles of Jack Daniels a day and going totaly drunk to the local gyn for working out by the side of the blond pussys ( don't worry , i don't drink anymore ) had a briliant idea of what to do with my work and came back to Sao Paulo as fast as possible .

In the studio in my lovely ( so beautiful ) apartment at Vila Mariana, a neighborhood I loved so much , I created paintings that started hanged on the wall and kept going till the ceiling bending and going on dominating the ceiling . I can explain then now . Well, the following year I got poor and came to live in this house I am now ....

I didn't have how to keep the paintings that had done for this project and cut in pieces saving the heads . I had made 2 paintings experimenting this concept . I abandoned this and started to paint the ones that later I started to call "Sao Paulo" and were very well recieved at that moment wining lots of awards. See my book on Blurb to know what i am talking about . Funny thing : I didn't sell most part of my Sao Paulo ones . The best are still with me . The only one sold was bought by a guy that belonged to the counsil of the Sao Paulo's MAM ( Museun of Arte Moderna ) , I have no idea of what happened with that painting or that guy as I don't make politics and don't visit this kind of enviroment , but i am curious .

hahah!! oh my , what kind of post is this ?!! :

"Confessions of a decadent painter".

No ... come on. Cofessions of a raising new man ;) A new man that is going to buy new supplies .

* just a note to kill your curiosity :

What makes a man after two botles Jack Daniels in a gyin ?

Well... basicaly I fell on the floor ten times every ten minutes , throwed up on the machines and asked the phone number for the ladys .

i am such a fucking charm .............

Only rant.... don't need to take out your pants and jump on it .

2010-09-29T13:12:00.002-03:00

Only rant.... don't need to take out your pants and jump on it .

OK, first of all: I love to rant . And what I say one day so strongly isn't rare to do not take so seriously on the next day or do not even believe on that . Or believe even more going to the last consequences . There is no logic and this is the way my brain works . If your Anglo-Saxon way to see the world sometimes doesn't match with mine... don't worry , it isn't an scandal... you don't need to lose nights thinking about this and hating me . It is natural and exists a huge world out there where people thinks in a very different way ( not wrong or right , better or worse ) than the way you learn at the school... don't take so seriously, it is just another person's opinion. All the time I post what I am thinking at the moment it causes huge polemic. Why ? Last week had an explosion of people posting hateful opinions about me on Tumblr because a text I posted here . It made me lose followers on Blogspot , Tumblr and Posterous . hahah!! I had to delete it in all the blogs because was tired to answer and be cursed . Even on Wordpress where I never receive any comments , I received few ones complaining about in less than 2 hours . What is Funny is that the ones that complain , curse me , stop to follow my blogs, and posted horrible things about me on Tumblr last week aren't Neo-Nazis , Fanatic Muslims , Buddhist Monks , Christians Ministers , K.K.K., South American Guerrilheiros, ..... no ... are the ones that preach about tolerance and democracy , the ones that believe tolerance must to be the foundation of the society. The ones that are always the first to talk about freedom of speech and thoughts. Those are the ones that throw rocks on me all the time I open my mouth . This is a blog !! If I can't rant on my own blog where am I going to do that ? I'm front of my aquarium to my fishes drinking green tea . I mean... my country came out from dictatorship and still today the politics on the power use sentences as : "there is too much freedom of press, people are abusing " . Yesterday the president made an long speech complaing that people aren't respecting his candidates for this election and the we should shut up. If I can't come to a blog and say what I think... come on !! People on Internet behave as Third World dictators . Every body gets offended because what I say isn't " acceptable " . It is what I said on the last post when people got offended and I had to delete . It is very convenient to tell me to shut up. Yes , this is what they want . People from poor countries must to have any real opinion about nothing because it isn't acceptable . People like me can't express themselves , we should go to the factories and deny our existences producing cheap products to be consumed in the other countries . People like me can't have voice , face ... we must to hide ourselves for the rest of our lives in a way that is more convenient for the citizens of the First World countries. Who wants to remember we exists, right ? If people from my origins produce art , must to be something appropriate to be consumed as an exotic inoffensive thing by the ones in Manhattan , London , Berlin.... I mean... We must to produce something that makes the guy when he goes to the gallery look and feel good with himself saying : "Oh , this is interesting, different , I support his cause , I am a nice open minded sofisticated liberal person , now I can go home in peace and drink a good wine before to sleep with peace of mind because I saw a fucking artists fron a Thrid World country and supported it, i am so special smart and good" . That is the reason i dislike when people refer to me as "Brazilian artist " because following this labels has all the weight of the expectation that i have to do something "different" and nice ... something like a tropical circus monkey , a Carmen Miranda or a stereotype of contemporary art that is what is well accepted today's market . Freedom never comes after the "Brazilian artist" label. This is for sure . But i would be very unfair if i put all the blame on the place I came from. No . It happens with everyone in everywhere today more than ever. The world never was so closed to different opinions and ideas as it has been today .

I was thinking this afternoon how ridiculous have been the 'rockers' for the last decade . You see lots of guys making that proud big headed expressions , putting their noses up and saying : "I am a rocker " " I am a rock star " " I make rock'n'roll" . It is so ridiculous . I never trust an artist that can talk so sure about its work. If you see the bands of the history that made History and changed aesthetic values for real... they on interviews never say " I make rock'n'roll". I remember the few real bands I saw in activity , they were never able to explain their own sounds. They real ones are like that . Art is like that . I never trust on people the can talk about their production so sure of it . It means they aren't really creating, investigating , only reproducing values or formulas that already exist . The biggest artists i saw in my life when asked about their works used to make a pretty dumb face because didn't know how to answer that . What i posted last week was a bit about that ... and i receive a waterfall of rage on my head , still today, one week later i have received very impolite comments about. Sorry if what i say makes you feel that your mask falls and you get angry. But people that is so sure of what is art and what is producing don't have too much to offer . People that are so sure about themselves only reproduces what was already made . It is easy to be sure that way. I am sure when i am making pasta .. it is a recipe that exists for generations. But i am not sure when i am painting or writing or living . Because i do it my way . and my way is brand new, there is no recipe or really concepts to guide me . And if you call this "intellectual talk " as i was accused more than one time before . I am sorry for you. because if you aren't concerned about the nature of what you produce it means you are producing very shallow stuff that doesn't add anything to the world or even to your life . Maybe you get happy to do what was already done . But i don't get satisfied with that and want to have freedom to express my dissatisfaction and keep searching without a narrow minded asshole protesting because my position on this world isn't convenient to him/her and its pathetic sterile life with 'acceptable works" being produced .

Other thing i want to talk is about my book and the way it was written. Every one knows because i posted it already on my blog that i wrote this in English because i want it to be read by everyone . Trust me , it is a pleasure to me when i write and communicate in English. Really . It completely spoilt me because now when i write poetry in my own language i feel totally incomplete as something was missing. I love to express myself as i am doing now .

But here comes the others ( inferno ) . The defenders of the language . Always from USA and England ( the ones that read my book and are fron Germany , Holland , Spain , Austria , Italy, Brazil.... dodn't complain about language , and some Americans and Englishs too ). Really , how can such nice people have a such horrible language ? In England after a while , the only ones i accepted to have contact was the Englishes, the original ones , not the immigrants or their descendants. The Englishes were that most sympathetic , polite , honest , and nicer people i have met in my entire life . I never get tired to say this because it is true and for all the thousands of times they were kind with me saving my life or only making my day . The Americans were the best friend I made in Europe . Maybe because people really hates Americans in Europe they are very nice with the few ones that don't show any prejudice against then. It was my case .... i will never forget the Americans i met out there because they were very friendly people i could trust. We helped each other always that was necessary. Not talking about the 20Th century North American cultural production in all the areas that ( and i am not saying it only for saying ) really saved my life , my brain , my ethic and moral values , my faith in God . Everything good i have inside me has a foot in the American culture somehow. But people.... come on !!! Do you really need to bitch on me giving a such hard time because of the way i wrote this book ? And it because i showed it for a bit more of half dozen of people and wasn't even published yet. I mean... isn't enough i speak and write on your language trying to be nice and social.... do i have to think like you too ? Do i have to destroy all the structure in my brain and adopt yours ? Aren't you being too harsh ? And people say it isn't correct English language. What is correct English language ? It doesn't exist. A language that needs so much phrasal verbs , idioms , slang's and have no real rules for prepositions can't be right. A language that uses resources as "get, got , do , did...." can't be considered as a correct language . It changes everyday and begs for improvisation all the time because of the lack of a real structure . And I am not even talking about the huge gap created by the accents , what doesn't happen with most part of the occidental languages. So should i stop to think on my own language too. Isn't enough i try to write in a way that people around the world can understand ? Do you really need to tell me that my text isn't correct and conventional . I have two examples :

One : Sure I am not comparing my self , but i even should because would be fun . But if English was a language with such good structure Shakespeare wouldn't need to create so much new words for try to express himself . And i bet that if he was alive now and wrote a book with lots of new words as he did people would bitch on him much more than what happened on his time . Two : Is my text hard to read ? Hard to understand what i mean sometimes ? It makes me remember the last week on Facebook, Jasmine , and i think later Momo Luna sent me a post where i should list my 15 favorite albums of all times. On my list , at least 10 of then were albums very hard for me to listening on the first 5 times . Were albums that i bought and hated first even regretting for have spent money with that. I didn't like , didn't understand what was happening , didn't follow the musics ... these albums years later , 10 , 15 years later are the 15 top favorite of a collection where I have more than 500 albums considered favorites, i loved to have made that list of 15 favorites and spent the entire last week listeneing then again . The same with many of my favorite movies , books and art pieces, they are new languages, it isn't easy to get at first .

I am sorry if you spent the entire life consuming jelly, Mcdonalds, MTV hits and All Disney movies. Let me tell you one thing: Real forms of expressions don't have label , aren't easy to digest, and aren't easy for the creator to talk about or explain . It happens . If you have contact with my production, welcome to a world were things aren't logic , easy and acceptable . I am not going to chew you food and put it gently in your belly . Forget about . It has an entire industry of billions of dollars doing this for you, wanting to please you. Isn't necessary to demand it from me . My book is hard to read , is hard to digest for many reasons , and i am proud of that .

What do you expect about a book that talks about a guy the lives in a global world "full of tolerance and human rights" being excluded of it ? No , sorry , i didn't write a romantic comedy . I believe Hollywood won't buy it.

So people . Take easy . If it is so hard to deal with me I am sorry , I didn't mean to be a such pain in the ass only for say what I think on Internet. For paint what i can ( not what i want because i have no control of what happens in my studio, and i am not saying that for looking cool ) . For write what i thing and feel. It has been hard enough to me for all these years , all this life having to deal with my head... image with people "shooting" against me because of what i post on Internet, on my own blogs.... It so ironic and unfair . My grandfather left Europe because Hitler was after him. My father was arrested by the local dictators . And now i can't say what i think on my own blog . The difference is that now nobody can put the blame on any government. Now the dictatorship comes from people . The ones that have their own blogs and post what they feel like to do and say ... this people now comes to tell me to shut up and change my way to think . Don't you think you are too narrow minded and unfair values telling people what is right or wrong to think ? Don't you think you are behaving as people that begs for do not have freedom . Calling me names and criticizing my production as have happened gives reason to your own governments and big companys to start to control the press as have happened in all the called "Occidental free world" . It isn't argument anymore... it is violence and Nazism. Remember , Nazism isn't about race or nationality . It is about standards, the psture you take about the ones that are diferent.

　

Ok, after to spend the evening drinking lots of green tea and geting high with cafeine, maybe I can post this at 9:50 pm.

Please ... you don't need to get angry or ofended with all i wrote . It is only a cucaracha's rant. Nobody gives a shit for what we think anyway .

Don't worry , tomorrow you are going to meet lots of me and ignore our existence while we do all the dishes , work on the garden , clean the office and say : "Oh , sorry Sir, thank Sir . excuse me Sir , Yes Sir......have a nice day Sir .

I am so happy for living in a Global Multcultural United World with so many tolerance for all the diferences .

Have a nice day everyone . And a wonderful weekend !!!

what is this about ?

2010-09-17T13:35:00.000-03:00

I don’t understand when people says they are “full time artists” . Is there anyother way to be an artist?

And did you realise that only mediocre ones are proud to say that are artists ?
The few real artists I met in life never dared to say this .
All the time someone asks me what I do, my answer is always something vague.
I have dedicated every second and energy of my life for producing art for the last 11 years ans still don’t know what an artist is.
But if you asks to any shallow idiot what an artist is , you are going to recieve an answer at the same time .

the back cover and the cover of my new book.

2010-09-09T14:46:00.000-03:00

.............so here i am posting what maybe is going to be the cover and back cover of my new book.

the image with lots of flags is going to be the back cover, only this was the title of the book and my name written.

The flower one is going to by the cover , clean and any word.

I am not sure Yet but is pretty much this.

I WANT TO TO GIVE A BIG "THANK YOU" TO WILLIAM MICHAELIAN FOR HAVE HELPED ME YESTERDAY WITH ON OF MY CHAPTERS .

AND TO THE LOVELY SANDY GUNDERSON FOR HAVE INTRODUCED TO THE IMAGES OF THE GERMAN KIDS . you are a bless, Sandy !!

Beloved MINDY ( 1990 - 2010 )

2010-08-27T13:10:00.000-03:00

My little daughter Mindy died last friday, one week ago steped on by a car in front my house. This post is only to say that I love her.

Twenty years ago I was at my mother's house backyard where I still lived and she appeared fron nothing on the wall. I tried to ignore her but she started to follow me everywhere and mew at the window of my bedroom every night till I let her get in. I started to grow feelings for her. At the first months she used to hunt rats at the street every night for eat, I had to slowly make she get used with cat chow. I still don't understand why she came to me , she could have chosen anyone as was pretty and people of my street in general liked cats. She was so small, I thought she would grow up but not. She kept that size for all these years. With a golden hair diferent of the other siameses. At the street now when I touched her hair with blood and holded that tiny body on my chest I almost died, she was so soft and pure. People doesn't have the right to look, many neighbors came to the street to watch my grieve as it was an atraction. I hate all then even more now. My little daughter. I have never lived for twenty years with anybody. Not even with my mother or my father, even less with my siblings. Only her. She was present when I wrote my first poem, she was present when I painted my first painting. When I drawed my first drawing, when I took my first photo. She saw me growing up as nobody did, always by my side , on my lap, suporting me about everything. She lived with me in all the houses I lived . My Father's, my mother's, all the places I lived alone she was the only one there with me. All the time I was working she sat my my side for all the time watching me. For the last twenty years I had her sleeping on my lap every single night. She used to stare at my face for hours loving me while I was lost in thoughts. She had a bad temper and was a very jelous girl. All the time I used to bring women to my house she got angry peeing on their chothes and on the part of the sofa they had sat, then starting to throw objects fron the shelfs breacking it on the floor when I was penetrating the pussys, she always knew the right time even I leting her out of the bedroom. All the women I brought to my house complained about Mindy's behaveur but I defended her because knew that at the end she would be the only one to stay by my side. I had to put in the garbage all ther stuff, toys, sand box, box for transportation.... the house is so empty without her stuff, there is so much less colors now. For twenty years she was so present that inside home I didn't see her as another person, she was already an extention of my body, an extention of my will. All the time I had to open a drawer or a door I had with the arm or leg to put her by the side saying "be carefull little one, I am going to open it now, watch out". Now all the time I open something I do the same but she isn't there. It is so hard, I feel amputated now, "where is she?". I look to the window. Before I knew if I had to close and open the window because of her , it depended with I allowed her to go to the street or not. Now I look to the window and I don't know if I want this opened or closed. I don't know what I want without her. I never had to chose if the window gets closed or opened without her by my side , I don't know if I like closed or opened windows. I don't know what I like or what I am without her. I don't know where my arms end because before the extention of my arm was till where I could reach her. When I was living out of the country I had her picture my the side of my bed, peoplethought I was gay because all the time they asked me if I had a family , kids, I showed her picture in my wallet saying that this is my daughter. Do you think I am going to stop to show my wallet's picture of her? Never !! I remember when I went to live in a tiny house that was only a small roon where fited a single bed and nothing else with a bathroon where the shower was over the toilet, it was a very dangerous area and the door of it didn't have any lock, anyone could get into any time of the day or night. I had a knife and slept with mindy on my belly, at night all the time someone aproached of my door Mindy advised me snarling as a dog, I could wake up and get up fastly already holding the knife and making a noise to show that I was awaken and aware that had people by the other side, She saved my life many times at that time, I would probably be dead now. During all my life I was never chose by anyone for nothing, anybody never choose me as a friend , a lover or an employe, all the realtionships I had to fight hard for get and at the end I got hurted and dismissed. She was the only one that have chosen me, in my entire life. My entire life. And how did she die? Fast, do not even giving me trouble. With twenty years old she didn't need any medicine and played as a kitten full of grace and feminility. So charming, so feminine. Even for her death she choose to reliese me of any concernment. What I am going to do with my life now? What is going to happen? I don't know this world without her. I don't know myself without her.

This is São Paulo, there is no place to bury a pet. So I looked for an veterinary hospital, I would have to let the Mindy's body there for cremation, but the cremation doesn't happen there, a truck of the city hall goes to take the dead bodys twice a week and then they let for cremation. It is so umpersonal, such unfair. Not saying that I would have to pay a fee of 50 bucks, money I don't have. Mindy's body got on my table near my paintings for 28 hours and I stayed by her side all this time. I wraped her in a strip of my blanket, the part of the blanket she used to sleep. I had to cut this off for her and now I can't cover my feet. Yesterday when the tuck of the garbage men was at the street behind, at the other blok, I prepared her little coffin. Here I discovered that has a law forbiden people to put their dead pets for the garbage man to take. You can even be arrested. So wrote a poem and put under her tinny fore foot wraping the bloody body in her own green blanket and then in our blanked in a very confortable way as she like to stay, then put her body inside a black pastic bag and the plastic bag inside a box of her size that I found behind the supermarket. It was a brow box writen in pink rose leters "Soft Baby". Perfect for her. The product of the box was soup for washing machines. Smelled good. When the garbage man arrived at my street I delivered it to him, on his hand saying good night. He sayed thank you and put in a pile of plastic bags he had done. Fron the side walk I couldn't take my eyes fron that. The truck came and the garbage men started to throw the bags inside it. Mindy was the last, the trunk started to move away and I went to the midle of the street trying to se her Soft Baby box one more time . It was there , one more garbage among thousands. Anybody noticed me waving to the tuck till it turned the corner. Done. It wasn't a happening in my life . Mindys death is the end of an age. Now I will have to recreate myself and don't know how to start. All the times life forced me to recreate myself she was by my side observing and supporting me about everything. The only one that have chosen me, that choose to love me if even I don't asking for or trying to convinse of nothing.

-

so rare

2010-08-03T12:25:00.000-03:00

so rare
by Caio Fernandes 2010

i love winter so much and today is so grey and cold!!!
what a precious moment!
my feet are frizing and the brown leafs on the floor are wet.
all my senses turn into a snail and my mushroon's eyes get fresh under the wispers of the low colors.

ahhh.. this is so rare for me ,
soon the sun will come again and i will have to try to shoot it down again in rage and madness.
but now i am living the life a human being deserves .
so rare .

let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky .

2010-08-02T18:31:00.002-03:00

by Caio Fernandes 2010

cold... good for tea and internal works with dreams, aquariums and cats over a dark surface.
the taste is purple on my lips.
i swallow it and feel silk, cotton....linen.... floating distant and clear.

He extends His Word once again for my heart.
my heart lies, liar liar liar, compulsive liar.
i have to fill it with light.

the green under the moviments of the cold weather.
the 2 sides blade of my chest that opens new paths beyond the air.

the golden vibrations of a good friend's hair shining in my body and smile now.

sundely NOW became so precious , by pure acident.
i don't care if time, times , timeless are there somewhere.

let the dogs run till get exausted at the street.
let the cats sleep upon the aquariuns lamp because of the heat.
let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky.

i am fine, thank you for asking .

what a surprise.

2010-07-29T20:26:00.005-03:00

the texture of implosions by reds under leafs is a she.
passed her hand on my leg and i got so quiet that thought i had swallowed all the space around.

sundely the garden, so tiny and blind runs its nature towards my lips as an underground train was hiting my face.

what a surprise.
i didn't intend but i had to do her there or she would think and say bad of me.

was that a rape?
well... all the time a woman crosses her legs in front of my eyes I feel raped alread.
so, yes , it was.
i didn't intend , she forced me.

all the sounds that come fron the street doesn't touch my body and soul.
what happened made me remember the day i started a vacum on the floor.... all so heavy as hell grabed my muscles.
but i floted this time do not paying atenttion if she was smiling.
she only walked... went to her job, few nice words that meant nothing.
lunch time is over.

hope she at least tells to her friends. her roomate is a hot ballet dancer and i know i am good.
am i ? i don't know, i am the victim here.

under-tastes

2010-07-29T19:36:00.001-03:00

By Caio Fernandes

twisting tastes that live into clear sweetiness as a dancer on the air of the night.
i watch: dance taste , dance my dear... dance only for me.

channels of under-tastes are opening as i was digging a rock, but nothing is hard.
easy.
soft
and then i remember that woman that had tatoos of 4 tiny berrys on the place of the eyebrows.
i could lick that too.

i think this under-tastes are fruits of my searchs into the air... or i couldn't explaing where it came fron.
well... i can't anyway.

Apples

2010-07-28T13:07:00.000-03:00

Apples
by Caio Fernandes.

Apples ...
red compact on the table of dark wood extends veils of feminine vibe throughout space.
I smell hidden mountains inside the ranges of quiet breathing.

could handle life with the tips of five fingers and stand in the air in a dark room.
and isn't this what I do every day?

inhale.
bite.
ingest.
feel.
and exhale ...

Apples ....

POND

2010-07-28T12:39:00.001-03:00

Pond
by Caio Fernandes 2010.

We never asked what kind of place it is.
What kind of place is this?
They cut all the trees and put nothing...replace with nothing.
We never asked what kind of place it is.
We were forgoten people and wanted to ride lost in a forgoten area.
.done.
Pond.

Beyond all the moss green emptiness under clouded sky and drizzle:
beyond all the grey silence:
Pond.

pond.

Beyond the memory of logic and the senses:
Pond.

pond.

nada

2010-07-27T10:27:00.001-03:00

The real Lost . by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-26T12:27:00.003-03:00

The real Lost
by Caio Fernandes.

There was me, 2001...Belen, Para... heart of Amazon jungle. A big City as a matter of fact. The local University had offered me a award for 3 paintings, i didn't have money as a flight ticket to Amazon is almost as expensive as to New York so my intention was to send a notice saying: Thank you very much, i apreciate a lot, i can't appear for the Cerimony send the check to my bank acount. But my uncle Milton had saved miles enough and when he knew about that ( i really don't remember how he knew about ) offered me the tickets back and for, not just that, he works with industrial insurance and had there a client, a very rich man that would be happy for recieving me in his house. It gets hard to say no as i had never crossed the country and went to Amazon in my life.
I love to travel in airplanes so i won't complain about the long flight, but take a look on map and you will have an idea of how many hours i spent sat on that chair, fron Sao Paulo to Brasilia to Belen.
What can i say ? I hated the city. First the house of this my uncle's client, the man, yes, did everything for make me feel confortable and gave me a good suite ... but he and his family hated Paulistas ( whom is natural fron Sao Paulo ) what is very common when i travel to Brasil, they call us imperialists, american friends or "americanizados", capitalists ( and worse things ), sometimes even "gringos"!! Well... they hate us and that is the reason i don't travel to any place of this country anymore not even for free.
Then the city by itself. I arrived in a sunday afternoon, the Cerimony of the award would be only at friday, in my mind i would have a whole week to explore the place, making some comercial contacts, things like that. This host of mine had a son of my age living with him ( 25 years old ) and it seens that he felt that should show me some local atractions and at monday night "i had to" prove the best Tacaca of the world. So he let me to this restaurant that looked like a public bathroom and ordered 2 portions of Tacaca. I had no idea what Tacaca is but i didn't care, i would prove and make a happy face. Didn't see bad at all, is a yellow thin soup with 3 small shrimps floting and a herb that they say gives you a funny feeling on your tongue, but i didn't feel anything and didn't understand why they like that so much as tasted like nothing. The guy started to get revolted, told me that had showed this place to an American client and at the end asked to this poor gringo: "so, isn't this much better than that stupid McDonalds" ? And the american guy answered: "no , i prefer McDonalds". Hahahah!! And i totaly agree , even McDonalds is better than that.. but this host of mine got really angry with the answer and then asked me :" and what about you Caio? do you prefer Tacaca or McDonalds"? - "ahh, Tacaca is the best thing i have ever proved, no argue about that"!!hahah! And he got happy, satisfied as a baby.
I didn't think so funny at the next day, after to have spent the morning visiting some "clients" showing my works, catalogs, portfolios, and geting nothing, so i decided to visit the down town and see the historical-turistic points. There has a harbor to a large river of mudy water with a popular open-air market named "Ver-o-Peso", great turistic atraction of then. That is when my laughs finished. I saw the way they sell the shrimps i had aten the night before. They make piles on the extremely durty floor of fishies and shrimps, i saw a large rat fighting with a vulture for taking a rotten fish's head. Naked drunk indian homeless running around and peeing everywhere. On the part of the harbor where the boats deliver the fishs a montain of garbage that is hard to explain with words. Everything smelling like shit under the heat of the mercyless sun. People with long knifes staring at me. That was when i had a crises where i didn't know if i started to cry or to puke. But i behaved myself and holded on.
Then i got to see their Cathedral where an art curator was suposed to meet me, one block fron this market on a hill. On the way i saw wonderful colonial houses but when i got closer to pay attention on the detais of the ornaments i realised it had girls of 8 , 10 , 12 years old asking me to get into with then for few money. What?!! It can't be real!! Maybe i am not understanding.
The curator was a very nice woman that first tried to flirt with me, but later started to think that i was gay and even introduced me to a local gay artist, hahah! She showed me all the art pieces of the Cathedral and told me the history behind it all. Was a nice moment. After this we crossed the street and went to an art institution in a pretty big building on a lovely place with many huge health tropical trees where she was preparing an exhibition of a German artists that was there being so rude treating her and all the local staff as slaves that i argued with him and we almost fighted. The securitys had to put us apart.
So i left the place hating "gringos", the locals , myself and everybody else, but had nowhere to go only back to that harbor and feel sick again.
There i discovered that at 6:30 a boat for turists used to let then at the midle of the river because they say the view of the sunset is fantastic fron there. It seems to be the biggest turistic atraction and i wanted to do something stupid, safe, ridiculous... and in my mind i was a turist, so should get into these turistic traps, but the price was to high. This is when i tried to be smart.
I realised that on this harbor have boats that work as bus leting people fron Belen to small vilages in the middle of the forest where there is no access by land.
It was very cheap and i thought i would see the marvelous sunset fron the middle of the river paying 20 times less than suckers turists that payed 10 bucks for a can of coke !!hahah!! Losers!!
I asked for informations and found a boat that would cross the river. It would depart soon so my plan was to leave that market before to be stabed, spend 1 hour and half going to some vilage, come back and see the sunset.
On the line for geting into the boat two mans in front of me were chating :
- "So i had to come back fron Rio de Janeiro because i killed too many people there and now the police is looking for me"
- Right, i know this very well, it has been 2 years i came back too but i feel like to go to Espirito Santo now, people is making money there and you can rape the girls of the indian tribes because nothing happens to you. They are only indians, the police doesn't care".
I couldn't leave the line because had iron gates around me so i could only walk towards the boat, and because they realised i was listen and i didn't want to look like a chicken running away. Stupid macho's proud.
On the boat i saw an old lady reading The Bible and didn't think twice , i sat by her side, then a news paper's man started to scream: "man rapes his sons and daughters, kill his wife and puts fire on the house with everyone inside when the gas exploded and all the neighbors died, you can't lose that!!" he repited this several times.
The boat crossed the large river and gets into a narrow little river into the forest. The travel was silent and i started to relax a bit apreciating the view of trees and sometimes passing in front of some isolated houses where familys lived distant of the standarts of life that i knew so far... very impressive and pretty, but i was still tense as i didn't know where exactaly i was going to, what kind of things i would find on the way. If Belen , the capital was like that...imagine the rest...
Two hours later the boat hadn't stop yet and my plans of geting down to take another one to Belen and see the stupidy sunset were ruined. I asked to the people if it would stop soon and they said that in 15 minutes the first stop would be in a vilage where i could wait for the next boat.
Yes it happened, it was a pier of concrete in the middle of nowhere and i got down... all empty. the place had only some boat garages but nobody working.. i started to walk and saw it had a main ( the only one ) street paralell the river and a tiny bar. So i went there for informations about the boat i should take back.
Inside it the bartender didn't even looked at me ignoring my presence as i had ofended him before or something. Sat on a corner had two whores, one should have 50 or 60 years old , the other 12 or less. I ordered a beer , sat and asked about my boat trying to be polite as i was speaking with the King of Denmark. The man told me that in 20 minutes would pass and it was diferent of the one i took, much faster and confortable. Ok, i had no choice , so i looked to the tv on the ceiling where i could watch soup opera and pretending everything was fine.
The bar was very small, had no tables , only the place where the man served the drinks, a block of cement, with 3 pieces of tree trunks as seat in front and the 2 iron chairs the whores where using, A door at the corner behind the block of cement where i saw had a toilet.
Sundely i start to listen an engine. My boat?!!Great, so i went to the door fron where i could see the river, but nothing. It is when i realised the sound was coming fron sky and saw a small airplane of one helix geting closer to land..... Where? Where is that plane going to land? Oh my ... no... it is going to land on this treet!!! The street was pure earth with stones of big sizes and holes everywhere...
Here comes the airplane...trackblaht boom, pow treivfkbvwopopr splash.... falling into all the holes and hiting all the stones in the way passing in front of me, riding all the street and stoping at the other extreme. Turning around with the helix pointed to the street and finaly parking. A little kid came fron the forest with a huge knife that looked like a sword and a rope. Fron the air plane comes a big man with a pistol on his belt , golden chains on his neck and wrists, dark glasses ... you can imagine the type. He came to the bar and i got inside fastly because didn't want that he realised i was observing him.
Working on my glass of bier i felt when he came into.. i didn't move, the man didn't show that had noticed my presence but stops only few centimetres fron me , the bartender doesn't say nothing only shakes his head. This man extends his hand and drops 3 tiny golden rocks, like grains, on the bartender's hand. Takes a shot of something some drink i have no idea what it is, takes the 12 years old girl and gets into the toilet. I heard the noises of then fucking, what was for 1 or 2 minutes. Then he comes out and go back to the air plane.
I had to see it , so went to the bar's door to watch... i was really curious of how that crapy machine would arrise on those horrible conditions.
So there was the airplane , this time tied by the tail to a tree with the rope the kid that had come out fron the forest broght with him. And there was the kid holding that knife almost his size. The pilot got inside the cabin, turned on the engine and started to accelerate forcing but the airplane didn't move so much because was tied, only the movements the tree allowed to do... smoke going to everywhere... when the man screamed: CUT!! the kid used the knife to cut the rope... and the airplane like a bullet crossed the street. When i thought it would hit the trees at the other side the plane arrises in a impossible impossible impossible ( i should repeat the word impossible hundreds of times ) angle of almost 80 degrees. Flying over the trees only touching a bit the top of it.
Still speechless i realised the kid had vanished into the forest as a ghost and at the same time i hear another engine: my boat! I runned away to the pier as was afraid to lose it. It was a really confortable speed boat with lots of seats. It had place to 100 people but there was only a couple of american turists coming fron i don't know where.
I sat on the back seats alone and quiet still thinking about that airplane stuff.
Looking through the window how the boat cuts the water and the jungle smooth and fast, the many rivers looked like avenues where sometimes other boats came fron diferent directions but obeying the same laws of traffic we have on the streets.
The sun was seting, the colors changing. It was when the boat crossed an area where many rivers met in total diferent and unlogical directions that i saw something that goes beyond the concept of sunset... all the sky , forest and waters geting orange and golden, then fastly purple, blue.. an atmosthere where i could breath the colors and touch it as bilions of birds passing through my body and all the matter i could see... the particles of air shined in milions of colors and i couldn't know anymore if i was sat on a chair, swiming, flying.. if wasn't by the noise of the engine and movements of the boat i could swear it happened an acident, i had died and didn't realise. Sundely The Milk Way was exploding colorful smiles around me and i was so tiny and infinite as one more particule of light...
When the boat arrived to Belen it was dark, i was very afraid of Belen's down town after dark, i am fron Sao Paulo, and had survived horrible things there, any other place of the world could scare me anymore... but Belen was scaring me.
Fastly i tried to find a bus that could take me to the house where i was hosted. It was all ok till a guy, a teenager, on the bus stop starts to chat with me and making me questions that really takes me fron serious. After to have heard my accent and realised i am a typical Sao Paulo's man, the questions started to get even dumber. One thing i never understand when i travel to Brasil is their obssession for want to know what strangers think about the local women: "are you fron out of here? What do you think about the women fron here? What do you think about Brazilian women?" they always ask this . I can't deal with this , i never did , so i always answer:" Why? Do you want to sell me you sister? Maybe you mother? If i get the both do i have a discount?" I must to say , they don't like this answer at all, i alread had several problems because of that, but it is another story, i just can't help myself.
That night i went to the house safe. The following days were a crap, the Cerimony would be friday night , but friday morning i packed up everything and went to airport to trade my ticket flight for the next one to Sao Paulo. Fuck. Send me the check by mail, send the money to my bank account, don't send nothing, whatever. Do what you want, i am leaving.
At the airport the last kid after milions that week got closer with that "smart" face trying to send me brasilian nuts or chocolate... i didn't have any patience and was pretty rude. The kid said: "Let me guess, you are fron Sao Paulo, aren't you?" We both started to laugh and i asked for appoligies. This was my last conversation on that city.
Before to take my flight i saw the pilot of mine with a hot blonde that seemed to be his girlfriend. She took the flight as well, and while the pilot was working in his cabin i did her in the bathroon. I though i was being very smart, cool, a unresistable sexy Don Ruan , but after me she went to the bathroon with more 3 guys. I hate to remember of this trip.
But it isn't over. Landing in SP, at the airport i saw a girl waving to me, it was my ex-girlsfriend's best friend. She said that had to drop her brother there because he was traveling to somewhere, Florianopolis i think, and knew that i would be arriving at the same time so decided to give me a ride as she knew i don't have a car or a girlfriend to take me home. She delivers me a book and says it is a gift.
- "How to paint oil portraits"? It was a book writen by some american semi profissional housewife with Dutch name.
- "Yes, Caio...i thought you would enjoy as now you are a profissional painter and are recieving awards, maybe it is a good idea to learn how to paint well. I've seen your paintings, it is going to help you".
- "You know , i am recieving awards maybe , maybe because my works aren't a total crap".
- "sure..." and she smiles as i was a little kid "... you are a promisse".
I hate to remember of this trip.

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i wrote the text this morning before to go out and do my things. I only woke up feeling like to tell this story as sinse i started the Mein Welt blog i felt like to post about.
forgive me all the gramatical mistakes and if you didn't understand any part , i am sorry , i fix later.
done , i am posting this story. i feel free now.

The Pictorial Consequence // REDUCTIVE

2010-07-25T22:35:00.001-03:00

http://www.blurb.com/search/site_search?search=caio+fernandes&filter=all&commit=Search
link to my books: Reductive : www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1419178
The Pictorial Consequence : www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1155734

http://www.blurb.com/search/site_search?search=caio+fernandes&filter=all&commit=Search

hope you like it and buy all then as the price is really friendly and the quality is TOP HIGH !!

i will try a berry life

2010-07-25T15:29:00.001-03:00

i will try a berry life
by Caio Fernandes, 2010

i am too lazy and have no ingredients for making and baking my own bread, i am going to the nearst bakery and buy a wickbold.

the sun isn't gentle on the streets, lifting the breeze far fron me. the morning was so cold and good to live... but now!!wow!

berrys dance fresh in the bown and some even scaped jumping on the table.
naught berrys think that just because are pretty and tasty can make a mess in my house.
okay, yes they can.

if i were a tinny purple rabbit would fly over the roof at late afternoon and sparkle.
but as i am a tinny blue cat i am going to sleep on this sunday afternoon waiting the night comes up and look for some adventure in the gardem.

i don't remember very well what is a gardem.
but if i am not wrong
gardem is a secret place that only exists among the moviments of the combination of hands, hearts, earths and skys in bloom.

in bloom.... this is a good lifestyle, i will try more times a berry life.

THE MAN AND HIS DOG... WHAT AN ARMY.

2010-07-25T14:41:00.000-03:00

The Man and his Dog.... What an Army!!
by Caio Fernandes , 2010

night.
narrow streets between avenues
my right fist is holding hard the chain around his neck.
and he is happy for being angry, wouldn't change this for nothing.
i have the control.
i stop on the sidewalk.
make him get calmer, he really doesn't like diferent people.
he gets calmer.
then continuing to walk.
my left is free.

the night is pure
the air is thin
the tempeturature is cold
the step is sure
the breath is deep
the eye is opened
no words here means a long speech of victory.

the man and his dog.... what an army !!!!

The RAMONES at the Mein Welt's pre-history

2010-07-24T22:53:00.013-03:00

Here some very few ( but beautiful ) proves that THE RAMONES are at the origin and the pre-history of Mein Welt .
I consider then the very first Welter band of the History even Mein Welt have bourned after their end.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taken fron: Comando:

"First rule is: The laws of Germany
Second rule is: Be nice to mommy
Tird rule is: Don't talk to commies
Fourth rule is: Eat kosher salamis" ( i always sing; eat vegan salamis )

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taken fron: It's a long way back

"It is a long way back to Germany".

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taken fron: Today your Love , Tomorrow the World.

"I am a shock tropper in a stupor
Yes I am
I am a Nazi schatze
Y'know I fight for Fatherland.
I am a Nazi , baby, I am a Nazi
Yes I am
I am a nazi shatze
Y' know i fight for Vaterland
Little German boy
Being pushing around
Little German boy
In a German yown.
ein
zwei
drei
vier:
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World

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taken fron: Blitzkreig Bop -

the liric is perfect but the title says all.

------------------------------------------------

First of all I love Jesus Christ.
in secong place I love Ramones .
And these are the only real loves of my life.
The diference is :
I love Jesus because i know He is the only one that can save me.
I love Ramones because i can't help myself.
.
if you do not call this religious fanatism : you are wrong.
.
Let me make one thing very clear here:
This Germany doesn't exist and never did.
That is the reason i came fron it .
I created this and called Mein Welt .
I have absolut no interest in what people calls "Gemany" today because it is as boring as all the marvelous post-modern global world.

thank you Crissant for have sent me the photo

tiny coins.

2010-07-24T22:21:00.001-03:00

Tiny Coins .
by Caio Fernandes . 2010.

finaly!
the cold breese and silence of the night gets into my house, it is almost 10:00.

fingers tasting colder licks fron the air turning the bones in songs about the South Polo .
uhh... shiver! hahah! so good.

so good.
i don't know if i go to pee or order a pizza.
i feel no remorse for do not going out tonight.
i need silence and solitude.
i
i
i....
this is what "me" needs.
here in my confortable dark cave.

scrating thoughts of unreal possibillitys, all the waves of my chest prepare to dye atoms biting the dreans the cats offer sleeping around.

"Hi! I'd like a vegan pizza. You have my adress already in you system.
Yes, Caio.
no , no change, i am going to pay with tiny coins ( i always smile when i say this )
15 minutes ? ok thank you".
this is what i would say if i ordered... but not , i am going to save my penies today.

now i am going to pee.

i feel as i was looking to an old relative all the time i remember about my coins inside that dark drawer. it is so cozy.
always have the wish that opening it all the tinny shinny coins will explode as an ornamental fountain and spread all the light reflexion all over the house.
but it seems that pennies don't reproduce like that. they should be like rabbits.

walking in my house , up'n'down the stairs.... only the light of the aquariuns up... is when i am invided by green memorys of unknow places i have built into the palate of my eyes....
for so many years i have felt it coming. incresing , improving....
will my feet get ready for this one day?

"oops , pizza has arrived".
is what i would say now if i had ordered.
one more night eating potato, sauerkraut and soy with all those mad spices.
hahah! i am a saint.
apple cinnamon with white tea. YES!!

good things are coming.

.

You have never seen me .

2010-07-23T13:03:00.006-03:00

You have never seen me.
by Caio Fernandes 2010.

You have never seen me, early in the morning there is no sun light on the streets when i pass in front your house.
I see the lights up and some furniture by the windows while the perfume of the garden embraces me as a coat protecting fron the cold and drizzle.
I never had courage to stop at the sidewalk and apreciate it as a piece of art in a museum because i am afraid someone calls the police as my cheap old cloths can scare you neighbors and family.
Everything about you and your life is so beautiful.
You got married with this man that is good and can give you everything.
Every day i walk 2 blocks more than i should only for pass in front this house, and looking discretely to it makes me feel like to keep dreaming and living.

Then i arrive at the subway station at the same time every single day, pretending i am not going to work as a cleaner or i am not diferent of the other people.
Down the stairs i walk till almost the end of the plataform and take my place always at the same spot. When the train arrives i will be in front the tird door waiting it get opened.
What happens is that sat at the same place has that sweet pretty woman, she never looked at me, never noticed that i exist. I cough and change places passing in front of her, but nothing.
If one day she looks at me, i will get courage and say Hi.

When i am working at my job, people avoids me and my mop.
After 4 hours i leave that place whitout listening a good morning or a bood bye.
Then i go to the street walking down the sidewalk where i am less then one among hundreds of thousands. I say this because if i was at least one, i would have a name and a face... but not.
Every day i visit at least one agency of job, there are many but i went to all then hundreds of times. When i pass through the door the same staff of always look to me as it was the first time asking me to fill the formulary and leave on the table. I must to wait they call to my cell phone what never happens.

Back to the street i walk as much miles as God can count. Because it is for free and because i expect that a miracle can cross my way.
I get into all the stores of the entire downtown pretending i am looking for something to buy. I know the price of all the products of every single store. It is very rare a sales person comes and asks me if can helps me, what is fine by me as when they do it i have the impression they are asking me to leave.

By the evening i come back but pass in front your house again, hear the kids argueing or asking for new toys. It makes me happy and then i go to the house where i rent a shared bedroom. There is always someone coocking at the kitchen but nobody says nothing because it isn't anybody business.
I take a shower as fast as possible before someone knocks the door wanting to use the toilet. In my roon i sit on the bed counting the cents in my pocket even knowing very well how much it has.
This world has left and forgoten me in this hole, i pray for at least Jesus remembers that i exist.

I pray for one day have a house like yours, a smart wife with good character that smiles to me all the time i look at her.
The garden in front is going to be beautiful and everyone is going to be able to see fron the sidewalk.
I am going to put my name on the mailbox, so people will know that i exist, neighbors are going to pronunciate this everyday for saying good morning.

There is just one thing i am never, never never never going to do after to get all this.
I will never build a wall in front of my home and garden as i see you are going to start one now.
I am writing this note with the intention to leave inside your mail box asking to you for do not build this wall.
I know you are going to think it is very weird and see one more reason to build as there was a psicho observing you life.
But i am not a psicho, only an inofencive poor man the has used the view of your house to feed its own dreans.
Don't worry, i am invisible, you will never notice me passing in front of it, as you never did.
You have never seen me.

Forget.
I am not going to leave this note inside your mail box. If you realise that i exist is very possible you call the police to "give me a lesson" next time i pass in front your house.
I am glad you have never seen me.
And... am i alucinating? I mean, why did i think someone would do what i ask?
Forget.
You have never seen me.

.

only because exists . by Caio Fernandes 2010

2010-07-22T18:43:00.003-03:00

only because exists
by Caio Fernandes 2010

she has arrived fron a long travel ; fron a distant place.
....and met me here inside this endless jorney about no space.

i tried to look to the left , to the right ...
and finaly got courage to look into her eyes . It wasn't there .. her eyes never came back fron the travel.
good , because i never minded her presence anyway, but now i am curious... what had there so far, strong enough to arrest eyes of a boring woman like her ?
Whatever it is my next move is going to be towards the oposite direction.

tieing bows of no love is too commun in a life where i don't even care.

existence is a too noisy experience. every single moviment of the matter disturbs me . and it moves only because exists.

MAÇÃS

2010-07-22T18:04:00.001-03:00

por Caio Fernandes 20io

Maçãs...
o vermelho compacto sobre a mesa de madeira escura extende veus de vibraçao feminina por todo espaço.
sinto cheiro de montanhas escondidas dentro dos intervalos de respiraçao calma.

poderia segurar a vida com a ponta dos 5 dedos e deixas eguida no ar contido de uma sala escura.
e nao e isso que faço todos os dias?

inalar.
morder .
ingerir.
sentir.
e soltar o ar...

Maçãs....

nao essa colheita antiga - agora somente amare das galaxias por Caio Fernandes

2010-07-22T17:48:00.000-03:00

Nao essa Mare Antiga. Agora somente a Mare das Galaxias.
por Caio Fernandes 2010.
------------------------------------------------------------

voce sabe oque aconteceu?
estavamos colhendo moleculas de culpa dentro dos nossos esquecimentos...

nao,
eu tive que me afastar de tudo,
de voce tambem... e voce morreu para mim.
para sempre. definhnado com o tempo.

estou livre da sua colheita .

354
378
9237
080
94
7749

veloz como caes pastores correm com seus musculos e pelos macios dentro das veias do meu ant-braço enquanto ando sozinho ignorando mundos ao redor para ver apenas minha mente distante daqui.

crescem verdes sob paredes de respiros gostos por intocaveis .

vou deixar a mare das galaxias bater na porta.

hunting game and ballet .

2010-07-22T14:26:00.001-03:00

Hunting Game, by Caio Fernandes 2010.

happy toes on cold floor smiling to the fresh breese that dances with the deep blue sky.
my expectatives listen if the water is ready for tea.

the dogs at the backyard predending that are sleeping together, they look like little lions... they want to make the cats get closer to jump on then. but the cats are hiden at the grapevine waiting the birds get closer to jump on then . and i am hiden behind the kitchen's door to jump on everyone and make then stop the hunting game.
- Go to find something better to do your rascals.

steps and spine in the silent routine of life ... wings fron distant waterfalls sing movements of clouds into my lips,mouth,jaw,troat.....as a ballet of dreans that are going to be dreamed yet.

there is a misterious sensation of moisten earth in my imagination pointing distances and pretending to be a pillow for my silence.

everything the green knows. - by Caio Fernandes 2010.

2010-07-21T09:46:00.001-03:00

Everything the green knows - by Caio Fernandes 2010.

Everything the green knows about me is the texture of my lips lost in thoughts fed by the lack of space between cold stars and golden angels with no notion of the song they play on the saliva i swallow so easy with sadness.
Everything the green knows about me is fron when i walked among trees leting trunks and moss to lick their own lungs while geting inside my skin.
Now i use this green-moss t-shirt as a flag of a lost country that have forgoten me before to vanish.

All the way, love - inspired by Skip James' songs

2010-07-21T09:37:00.001-03:00

All the way by Caio Fernandes 2010.

under the dark pants, coloful socks
behind the murder's face, praying for Jesus
where is her pink perfume and skin? is behind the pine trees beyond the sea ....

because i belong to Jesus, i belong to Jesus , i belong to Jesus
all the way... all the way, Lord
He is my Lord, all the way.

He took my love, He took my love, He took my love
fron this way... fron this way, Lord
He saved my love, fron this way.

i stay here for we both, only leave when He calls me

i carry our both burdens, i carry our burdens , i carry our burdens
all the way... all the way , love
stay safe in heaven, waiting for me , love, all the way.

That is the reason i hate poker , football and do not listening Beach Boys. THE BLOODFEASTS THAT HAVE CHANGED MY DIET FOR EVER .

2010-07-21T09:08:00.002-03:00

by Caio Fernandes 2010

Part 1 - Vegetarianism - That is the reason i hate to play poker.
Sao Paulo.

I thought he was gay, but not, only a shy sensitive gothic kid. He asked me to go out to that nightclub at DownTown as he couldn't walk alone on that trap and I knew most part of the rat holes of that area.
I had nothing to do and he promissed that would pay for everything including bus. Seemed to be a good bet.
Geting down the bus I thought we had already too much good luck for have scaped fron that multitude of zombies adicted in crack on the first block.
One silent corner here, other dark corner there.... all pure emptiness, when i see a white car and lots of silhouettes of shaved heads inside it coming towards us. A suastica painted. No words between us. Faces with no expression.
The car stops by our side. Fron the corner of my right eye i saw 4 doors opening, black boots, axes and iron bars coming out. They weren't bluffing.
My shy sensitive friend had a card hidden in his sleeve I didn't know about till then.
We played.
The car went fron white power to red butchery.
Then I got vegetarian.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 2 - Alcoholism - That is the reason I hate football.
Sao Paulo ( 8 years later the poker incident )

That tall black man lied and tried to take advantage of me. As happened everyday I used to start to drink after noon at the cheapiest bars I could find. But was evening already and i was far fron home in a area i knew nothing. This large Black man with a smile made me a final proposal where if i had said yes he would be able to take all the money he thought i had. But i said no. With this he smiled even more , calm, and said:"Yes , i think you're not a full at all". I got revolted because he had just confessed that his intentions weren't honests. I don't remember what i did but this man runned away and i went after him on the street.
I didn't find him, but was so drunk and crazy that i started to scream, curse and offend everyone that i could see.
I don't remember if i had drunk even more but was night and i went to a bus station starting to create and spread panic there. Decent people running away and i didn't stop. There wasn't physical agression, but i was so pissed and frustrated with my life and myself that sundely all exploded. It was wednesday. Here Wednesday is day of Football match. One bus stops and few hooligans, 10 or less, get down fron it. I didn't stoped but when i started to curse then they took it seriously. Didn't need all then to crash my skull, only one would be enough, but all then started to run towards my direction. Incredible how i got sober really fast and runned away. They chased me down the streets and when i saw they were few seconds to be able to capture me i jumped into a restaurant of sea food screaming:" call the police call the police!!they want to kill me!!". They followed me and started to break the place. I went to the kitchen and locked myself in a space under the sink. I got safe till the police arrives and takes me fron there. Anybody was arrested but the policeman said:" Mr. Caio, for your safety you are going to get into our car and we are going to leave you far fron here. Okay, what happens is that the policemen saw me cursing people before, so they stoped the car few blocks fron there and "reliesed" me in front of the hooligans saying:"here it is, he is all yours".
I got lyched. I can't remember all but i remember i was on the foor and they didn't stop. People on the street around screaming:" kill him kill him!!"
Total blaked out.
I woke up the next day on the floor of my living room. Don't need to describe the situation of my body. Because of the pain i couldn't move. Don't know how i arrived there, many theorys, my favorite is that redheaded angels with big breasts saved me helping to arrive home flying. After few days i was able to get up and go to bathroom taking a shower.
Then i stoped to drink for ever.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 3 - Veganism - That is the reason i hate to do not listen Beach Boys.
London ( 12 years later the poker incident )

He was a famous cardiologist, face on many covers of magazines, brazilian, have treatened many members of the Royal Family.
Took my pressure and got amaized, said that my heart was perfect and have never seen a so health like this, even more with the miserable live i was having in London.
When asked me what is my secret, i had to be sincere, explained that if he had a mother like mine and knew she is at the other side of the world and can't get in contact... he would have a calm, happy and healthy heart as well.
I was there making exames for testing a new drug for heart. For 4 weeks i would be interned in a hospital recieving many daily doses of this drug in my veins.
It seemed a good deal as they would give me a good paycheck if i survived at the end , 3 meals a day and would be 4 weeks saving money of the rent. Yeyhh!! Finaly some prosperity.
After the exames they said would call me telling about the day i should sign the papers then go to the hospital... and i left.
Walking down the street, 3 blocks fron there, I was only looking to the foor of the sidewalk, starving, cold, curved and trying to do not think about food when something explodes right in front of me. I didn't have any reaction and realised i had a piece of bone inside my mouth. I looked around, saw legs and arms flying, bodys rolling... then i realised that a car lost control and went to the sidewalk hiting all the pedestrians. It stoped 2 metros fron my body after have hit a blue iron post.
I tryied to do something helping the mutilated victims do not moving or geting in panic ( i am briliant ).Amblulances and police came fast as they were just one block fron there. There was nothing else for me to do. But i got shoked walking alone on the streets trying to digest all that. It was a God's message for me to do not play with life ( I love You , Sir, thank You). So i decided to do not take that "job" at the hospital.
At that evening i went to the Virgin store at the Piccadilly Circus and bought a Beach Boys' cd. It cousted 5 pounds, one week of food, but i decided that if i am going to live on this world i am going to do what i love, and at that time Beach Boys songs were on the top of the list.
Then i got vegan.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

These aren't all the Bloodfeasts of my life, sure, but are the ones that changed my diet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

So weird to listen Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald in the middle of nowhere as i used to.

2010-07-20T17:23:00.005-03:00

by Caio Fernandes
2010.

I was at the side walk geting into the cafe... didn't have any money, I had to wait for someone there inside.
When I heard this suburbian gay teenager at the other side of the street saying:" I am your fan, can you give me your autograph, I've seen everything you've made ... all the soup operas you worked on and movies. When you kissed that actor on the last episode...."
On a chair near the window I kept looking at the scene, the waitresses came and I said was waiting a person and would order later.
At the other side of the street has a theatre and that blonde old fat actress didn't hear one word of the kid, gave the autograph and came to the cafe. On a table next to mine orders a black coffe...
I know nothing about tv actresses and never heard about this one but I knew she is past now , forgoten, I see on her eyes... her shoes... and looking for love.
I like afternoons at down town, the way the orange sun lays on the walls of the grey buildings and evokes a silence that exists in a dimension over the car's engines, voices and machines.
She was there with her legs towards me being such an easy target...
Large flacid tanned breasts... So cheap that i could get anything I wanted.
This is all so sad... a decadent goddess showing herself to a vagabound nobody at the dusty Sao Paulo's down town. And I needing even so much sex, attention, money turning the face and looking to the sick pigeons on the street or the coffee machine as wasn't understand or realising nothing.
Now I put my head down looking to my feet, old jeans pants, and grey coat, incredible old black shoes...
I remembered sitting in my empty dark living room among solitude and cat's hair listening an album of Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald singing tradictional Christimas songs, remembering sitting in the woods and being very young, waiting the wind and bird's songs return fron the leafes feeling the presence of a big predator. Calm I looked to my black boots and the grains of brow mud under it. The smells of the trees and the humidity transformed the air in a herbal tea that I could drink the silence of it as a prayer. The durt on my wrist and hands telling me I was lost even knowing very well what part of the forest I was.
I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be somewhere else, I had dreans and nothing around could offer me a door to it, the same in my living room , the same at the cafe.
Weird , too many action and adventure in a life where nothing happened. And that decadent actress staring at me. She had everything and lost it or are losing yet. What could one offer to the other? Only depression as two vampires sucking the partners vacuum. I am not going to wait for anybody anymore, I get up and go to the street. Walking among peole that is leaving their jobs and going to their homes, I try to think about a place to go. I wish I could sit down in front a tv watching commedy and eating popcorn. I feel the smell of warm fresh bread coming fron the bakery and look to the woman's ass walking right in front of me . Red sign for pedestrians , I stop. The side walk looks like an isolated island where i get stoked for my entire life with no directions.
So weird to listen Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald Christimas songs in the middle of nowhere as i used to.

.

aquarium's green light

2010-07-19T15:55:00.001-03:00

only the green light coming fron the aquarium. Better to feed the fishies now.
Turning on the cold white weak lamp on this freezing evening. So confortable.
The tea is over, it was great, the mug rests in silence on the corner of wood .

I am all exited and with no ideas, only this impulse of make things happen.
Yes, it pulses, so intence.
There is nothing to do.
There is no world out there.

My presence here is almost not being.
Then the impulses pulse implosions.
I trade breaths with the dark brow and coldness of the furnitures.

The fishies ate fast and went back to their nests among the dense vegetation of the aquarium.
All the arms of silence, with the texture and shines of cat's hair, swallowed my teptatives of seeing beyound the walls.

I got no arms.
If there are real places... if there are real doors ... what is it ? Because my mind can't figure out and reach anymore. Never did.

And no exitement anymore. But the fear of a mamory.
I remember when she used the expression : "house holdings".
I don't even know what it means. What exactly did you mean?
It was few months ago.
The panic grows everyday on my nerves because of that.

It is not true !!
It is not true !!
There are no "house holdings" here whatever it means.
I can leave anytime.
Don't close this door to me. Whatever door it is.

Where is the world?
where is the world?
I have never found it.

Apso - by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-18T12:18:00.000-03:00

Ther is so much invisible dust between the target and my eyes that i am starting to doubt if it is really there.
Hand and finger pierce the air as a slow smooth arrow. But piercing .

Is there veins in my intention of destiny?
Because if there is
I must to dig all atmosphere around with blood
and feed all the curves of silence with sperm. Plus veiled punchs.

The name of this :" building peace of spirit as Lhasa Apso hunting a rat at the cemitary".

What's for tea, Darling?

corintios -1-26 -27 -28-29

2010-07-17T00:28:00.000-03:00

corintios -1-26 -27 -28-29

irmaos, reparai pois na nossa vocaçao,visto que nao foram chamados muitos sabios segundo a carne,nem muitos poderosos, nem muitos de nobre nascimento.
pelo contrario, Deus escolheu as coisas loucas do mundopara envergonhar os sabios e escolheu as cisas fracas do mundo para envergonhar os fortes.
e Deus escolheu as coisas humildes do mundo e as despresadas, e aquelas que nao sao , para reduzir a nada as que sao .
a fim de que niguem se vanglorie na presença de Deus.

galatas-1-10,11,12

2010-07-17T00:23:00.000-03:00

galatas-1-10,11,12

porventura , procuro eu , agora, o favor dos homens ou de Deus? ou procuro agradar a homens?se agradasse ainda a homens, nao seria servo de cristo.
faço-vos porem , saber, irmaos, que o evangelio por mim anunciado nao e segundo o homen,
porque eu nao o recebi , nem o aprendi de homem algum , mas mediante revelaçao de JESUS CRISTO.

empty for the Light - by caio fernandes

2010-07-17T00:20:00.002-03:00

empty for the Light - by caio fernandes

damaged feelings fron the world , back to the world. now. for the rest of your existence , and leave mine alone. stincky darkness , long heavy sadness , paranoic fear, concret hate , disgusting values of survive . i am smashing all you under my foot against the black hot asfalt that i dispite so much . absolut nothing on this planet is bigger than the fresh taste of havens that float among my eyelashes and explod in my throat. my heart shrinked . not even a atom is able to land on it . the world has no place in me anymore . forget . i never got so opened . i never got so empty . i am just a breath geting lost into levels of space that i can't touch . if God wants to moisten the rest of the grains of my existence with His light . i acept . i swallow . i reflect.......
i spent years destroying myself as a hardware for selfknowledge . i was a live ruin , got free fron myself, well ... at least almost free. but stoped in a isolated place of the earth , and bloody clouds of the world still came to chase me . so i faced him once again. he dind't kill me just because he knew i woudn't care . so he torture me , twisted me .
what is the real value of life , if you can not loose yourself fron the world , and than loose yourself fron yourself ? here comes the world , here comes the identity , here comes the history . let then fall , they belong to thenselfs .
i am here , i am nothing else and here is absolutely nowhere . i never got so opened , i never got so empty , i am just a breath geting lost into levels of space that i can't touch . if God wants to moisten the rest of the grains of my existence with His light . i acept , i swallow , i reflect .
life !? i am feeling a impulse of life... but it is a completely diferent shine of everything i have lived before . it shines pure and strong , and i happilly reflect the way i can .

MY APPLE VALUES - by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-17T00:18:00.002-03:00

the freezing air sang a lost praying this night , darkness licked the core of my bones . slowly a tight roon of sadness was bilt around breath . a lonely pierce taste the depth of my chest .
weird sensation that for one minute God took off His Hand.
old window , kind of broken , blows a new gentle light . the winter day woke up before the birds and the end of the dreans . the breeze lifts my spine to a floor of shy smiles . green leafs are stil coming fron my skin . i have changed my blood cells for white , blue , purple tiny flowers .
i am a man with heavy axes on hands , and use this for cut every link that try to remains between me and this vicious world that dances primitivily around my house (when loose , this home sails over the clouds ) . i am here to protect who i love . my apple values . mein welt.
golden and silver shines lie on my fingers (sky caress) . i , exausted , sit donw . deep movements of heart sparkles in silence : be very welcome ... external light of the day , come and drink a white tea with me . i am going to paint , while the blue eyes of the cat get closed on my lap , and the blue eyes of my model stares at me , it makes me happy ( silly verses like this must to rhyme ) .

green dreans of a sheep . - by caio fernandes.

2010-07-17T00:15:00.000-03:00

green dreans of a sheep . - by caio fernandes.

the sun turned into a merry whisper - not yet
the sun turned into a red whisper - no
the sun turned into a berry whisper . whispers-set behind her purple trees . her whispers , her kiss ( her kisses reveal landscapes in me ) . warm curves of the path , for a straight destiny . warm curves of the female ........ i' m lost .
the transparency of the wings that blows fron my back covering the both hemispheres of this sweet blue green taste . tastes like eternity in bloom .
when Saskia extends her hand it reflects the light of her dreans as a swimming pool . i can even see those reflections dancing on the ceiling .

yesterday :
the black wet stinky disgusting asfalt's mud on shoulders and neck .
- what is this comig fron the top of my head? blood!!?!!
-they are comig again , dad , i see shadows of bodys on the corner.
- hide yourself behind the garbage Melissa . be quiet .
- ohh no no , it isnt then . they aren't coming any more , i am pretty sure now , they went to the subway .
- you're ok , aren't you ?don't tell your mother about this . she is preparing a apfel strudel for the dinner's dessert .
- look dad ! the concrete is cracking everywhere . sidewalk , walls .... there are tinny blue flowers , and yellow , and white growing in it .... is the concrete geting old , dad ?
- yes honey ... and our time to live is coming .
- amen ( and started the singing : grun grun grun grun ist meine welt ... grun grun grun grun ist meine ....)
- AMEN .

the Jesus white light stands me up . i just keep walking , holding the child's hand . i just keep walking against the poluited wind that snarls against us . it is always solitarie to feel like to cry , and hold in silence . Sao Paulo is a altar of sacrifice in the form of a dusty concrete block in this world that is suposed to be beautiful . my body lives in Sao Paulo , keeps walking . while i build the green dreans of a sheep . thank you Lord for your blessings . thank you for give me one more chance .

- we are going to eat apfel strudel for dessert , aren't we , dad ?
- yes we are , honey . YES WE ARE.

today :
the sun turned into a merry red berry whisper ... it is so easy to love her yet .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ok girls , don't panic . i am still single . Saskia is the only one that realy happened in my life , but ... now al the time i am with another woman , what is rare , and she start's to gets on my nerves , i get deaf and blind and pretend Saskia is there .
( Saskia Hagenaars Verveen Morrone : 1977 - 2005 )
Melissa isn't my daughter . she is 8 years old and i am the only adult man that she met since she was 2 years old . to call me dad is her personal joke , she actualy doesn't believe in it (what is even sadier because i love her ) . her mother Cecilia is a widow that gives piano classes in her onw home for to live . and some times prepare italian or german recepies adapted for our vegan lifestyle , than she calls me for taste and trys to teach me how to prepare , but i never learn , i just preparie in home my onw bronw bread , green os white tea , and some vegetables ... and when i am loaded , feeling like to eat as a milionarie , i buy a doritos bag ( the large one baby!! yeah!!) .
between Cecilia and me , will never hapem anything : our friendship is too perfect to be destroyed by sex and wedding ( she says) . the truth is that she knows i still have this Saskia hole in me and she doesn't acept to be a mere substitute . what is fair enough . and she expects fron a man what her husband was , while i am the oposite of that . he was a wealthy successful guy , and i pray for the miracle of the multiplication on my painting materials as Jesus did with fishies and bread for the crowd ( what seens to works ) .
so we both are patetics and live haunted by our pasts . nothing bad for 2 people that have met at the college in 1997 , studing psichology .

unknown anonym colours of the truth .

2010-07-17T00:14:00.000-03:00

unknown anonym colours of the truth .

over the new dust of the gray day , breaths of my shoulders searching landscapes among the veins of the furniture .
wood wood wood dark ancient wood wood wood . silent witness of foerign moviments .
white shine on black shoes , black shadow on white coat .
white witness of dark moviments . i have a corridor of veins upon my taste for silence . new dust of the gray day on the window glass . black bird hits against it any way . black spot , black blast . my black old shoes side by side the dark ancient furniture . heavy wood . breaths of my shoulders . white witness of the time . wrong wrong flights .
the most sincere moviments of my heart lie to me , it was a mistake , the voice of the pain of the world , a scape . i got fake , as all then that i thought have taken distance and denied in my life .............. all the violence of my lack of reaction lays a good sense between the white pale light and the dark wood table . what a wise He was for have said : " my kingdon doesn't belong to this world . "
nothing about human nature comes fron the truth , it's all illusion . i dedicated my life , my best gestures and feelings , to lie to myself , and nobody was more sincere then me . i just feel like to throw up .
so this is life without lie . is to bear and to bear and to bear and to learn to do not be a fool anymore and die and be saved .
what a ridiculous imature i was to believe that there was something else . now i have to bear my shame as well .
-take back the thread , i am not going to sew ornaments on the way to pretend i'm doing something .
-take back your threat , destiny , i 'm staring at you and i'm going to shut you up , rule over you , filthy emptyness , till the end of my days .
i am a white witness of my own dark foerign moviments . it is not going to be dark anymore , not even for me . it is not going to be foerign .but at the end it is going to be unnecessary , as everything else made by man .
make me lose myself fron myself because i know nothing and this nothing must to be left behind . NOW .
out of the black and white of the beliefs , into the unknown anonym colors of the truth that brings this kind of solitude for who is incarnate into this world .

portraits of innocence and individuality - 2009 and 2005 - by Caio Fernandes.

2010-07-17T00:08:00.002-03:00

portraits of innocence and individuality - 2009 and 2005 - by Caio Fernandes.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE THIS POST WITH THE ORIGINAL IMAGES VISIT MEIN WELT

this title isn't mine , was writen by Barbara Dayer Gallati on the first chapter of her book " children of the gilded era " . that i found in 2007 at Tate Gallerie .
in 2000 , 2001 , 2002 i was developing a work that i can say i was very secure and satisfied with the results .at the time i painted my head every day just concerned with the light on it and volumes , it wasn't self-portrait , searching the very core of human soul , i called slices of soul , or psico slices . and not just me was apreciating , it was being recognized receiving awards , being sold , and i had a great sckedule filled with many exhibitions .but at the year of 2003 i got into a crises , and that work didn't express what i need in my life . so i stoped to paint .
i din't want a work that looked like contemporary art anymore .but i wasn't sure what i had to do .
in 2004 i saw a documentarie about the life and work of Balthus , i always had simpaty for his work , but this time i jumped fron the sofa . that was what i want . i got . i wanna for some reason i didn't understand yet , reach the life that artists as Renoir , Sargent , John Everett Millais painted . i was sick of the urban , corporative , fashion Sao Paulo's life style .i was at this time living complitely alone in a old durty house , that the kids of the neighborhood believed was haunted . i looked like the Nosferatu of that german mude movie ( i always forget the name of the director ) .and sundely i saw myself doing skechts of paintings of litlle girls and boys playing with boxers and german shepards , as the scennes of my childhood when i lived on the german neighborhood of Alto da Boa Vista , when it was german , before the brasilians discover the area , kill all the trees , all the wild life , and make the local people get so discusting that felt forced to leave ( i HATE brasilians , i am one of then , but i am not one of then ) . ( ok call this neorotic )
i never was able to paint those first paintings i drawed before because i din't find models at the time , not even the right landscapes . , but in 2004 and 2005 i started to do few works , my house started to looks like another dimmention , by the decoration , and the concept of it ,that made me forget the country and world i was living , any single estetic value of it looked like you will find in Sao Paulo or brazil . i din't speak portuguese any more , i created a dialet , mixed of english , german , sao paulo's portuguese very italian accent , and elfic , of the lord of the rings book ( thanks Tolkien ) . i lost all my friends because they stated to believe i got nazi , but here in brasil if you drink tea , eat potatoes with cabage and mostard , and listen Mozart they call you nazi any way . even my family took distance . it looked esquisofrenie , but i had total conscience of what i was doing . the money stoped to come in and i got really poor , doing 1 meal every 2 or 3 days .
then i started to be able to criate , but just 20 works a year . in 2006 my sister asked me help for start a marketing and advertising company , she got graduated, and din't want to work as a employe any more , so for 10 months i worked 18 hours a day and got money enough to pay a long travel to Europe and spend 6 months studing in London . then my nerves calmed donw , and i was able to see and undestand what i was looking for in my life , i got even more in loved with it .
when i came back to Sao Paulo in the second semestre of 2007 , i felt in a deep , long depression again , but decieded to back to work now in 2009 . so i am learnig again how to painting .
you must to think that it is all very ridiculous and was a waist of time , and i understand very well . but if you was bourned here , being educated to believe that every single thing about europe culture and people is wrong and must to be changed , being european decendent , and whaching a population of your country taking every day decisions that you don't agree , watching the natural life being murdered , by a progress that just bring social conflicts , concret , ignorance and crimes . whachting the good values being replaced for prejudice ...... people hating you because you don't want to be hipocret , mediocre , unhonest ...... seeing the love of your life being murdered by a clone of a national hero jiu jitso fhighter that wasn't arrested because is son of a influent politician of the court house ( and risking your neck just because wrote this in a blog , even in english ) . ....... maybe , maybe you would understend me .
the painting of the girl and aple was painted last monday . the other is fron 2005 . i like to see the diferences . trusth me ; is the same girl . but for me it is just a self-portrait . the 2005 one is darker , has fear , that little being is lost and fragil . the 2009 one , the girl is well fixed on the centre , secure of herself , she has all that ornamental mess and tentantions of the world over her head , but she does't care . she kind of turn her back for it . as she was untouchble . i wrote Jesus Cristo under it but din't want to give a religious conotation for the painting , i just felt to put a white spot into the blue , the Jesus idea came because i heard someone on the street screaming : OH JESUS!! WHAT IS THIS?!!! . it was funny , as you know , i am christian , so it seemed to be perfect .
can you believe than when i came fron London , the only thing i wanted to see here in Sao Paulo was this painting of the little girl ? some times i think i just came back to see it again . i remember myself in the museuns looking to the great masters and thinking about this painting .
you have no idea how important it is to me . in 2007 a asshole stupidy curator asked me to be part of a exhibition , but didn't acept to show this work , it wasn't good enough , contemporary enough , he just want the works made till 2002 . i gave what he asked , but never went to see that stupid exhibition . people saw on the news paper , but for me it never happened , just helped to make the depression get deeper . i HATE all then . my head forgive it , but not my heart .

Bianca conducting the souls - by Caio fernandes - 2001 .

2010-07-17T00:02:00.004-03:00

IF YOU WANT TO SEE THIS POST WITH IMAGES VISIT MEIN WELT

Bianca conducting the souls - by Caio fernandes - 2001 .

once upon a time , in a beautiful mornig i woke her up : Bianca , get pu i am going to take some pictures of you . " what ? no !!" ; do what i tell you to do , i am an artist , you going to be famous . ; " what ? are you crazy ? "
but she did . i can't explain , but one week after this , when i had finished to revel those pictures , the phone rings , it was a invitation for exhibit my work on a nacional festival of photografy in a lovely smal town !!!! then it was my time to say : what!!! ....... sure that i acepted .but i din't understend , it was a obvious mistake . at this time people knew me just as a painter . feel years before it i got a award ( the first of my career ) for 3 photografys , but was just it . i never showed or even produced photos any more . then when i make those ones , let's be sincere , just because i got this brand new cannon , and wanna a excuse for use , comes this weird oportunity for receive money , free transportation , free hotel ........
what can i say , the exhibition was a success . proves ? ok . all the other photographers hated me (score ) , more than 20 girls gave me phone numbers ( score ) , i sold 5 works just that night ( score ) . but then comes this woman and say : oh poor Caio , you don't know nothing in this town , do you have a place to stay ? " yes , my suite at the hotel , do you like hotels , honey ?" oh no , hotels are so umpersonal , come with me to my house . . well . my head was screaming : SCORE SCORE SCORE !!!! , BUT AT HER HOUSE SHE INTRODUCES ME TO HER PARENTS AND SHOW ME THE COUCH I WAS SUPOSED TO SLEEP . ok , i went to the hotel alone that night , we can't win everything .
so here there are the pictures i didn't sell , i lost the negatives , so there are just one copy of every one . i don't understend nothing about digital cameras and computers , so i took digital pictures of the original pictures , and didn't even took the "table frame " around .
hope you enjoy .
oh yeah !!! that last picture belongs to this serie too . what a shame , i was realy fat at that time . but hot . as always .

i think i have heard this joke somewhere -- by Caio fernandes - 2009 - inspired by painting sheltered heart , i am the re incarnation

2010-07-16T23:57:00.000-03:00

i think i have heard this joke somewhere -- by Caio fernandes - 2009 - inspired by painting sheltered heart , i am the re incarnation

poem inspired by the painting " sheltered heart , iam the re-incarnation" , by Caio Fernandes .

i got skins of white petals drowning memories of ancient breaths......i got the wide cold sky into a glass of water .
the simple " just because " fron the Heaven and i got sheltered .
i got i got i got .i got nothing on Earth , honney .

there was a tiny effort of the brize to move the leafs fron the forgotten ground .
the floor is so abstract . smels like a abyss for my neck .
i shouldn't be on this planet . when i die just write " E.T phone home or "leave me alone " on my gravestone .
( i think i have heard this joke alread somewhere )

as while the air reflects the sun light and the space between our smiles echo all the distant galaxies ... ..... it is so easy to love her , and her , and her , and her.... it is so easy to leave all then ...... and stay quiet , staring the void being filled with concret dust and the touchs of the cats .
( i think i have heard this joke alread somewhere )
and how many times will i have to hear again ? and how many times will i have to wonder the bless of the life , incarnate a new body , experiment , experiment , till find my lovely home sweet home . that i know since my first incarnation that isn't on Earth .
.... to give up of the first person of the singular ...
.... to give up of all the persons of all the times .....

i got skins of white petals drowning memories of ancient breaths . but not enough .and the steam of running thoughts dives into the " once upon a time : the silence " .
it is so easy to love ( intence ) her for the whole eternity , and then leave her for ever ..... and all hers of my life .
be a man , shelter your heart and reliase your dick .
( i think i have heard this joke before somewhere )
i know where i heard this joke ! the destiny told me this joke . all the useless time .and the stupidy here laughs . it 's not funny . what a horrible joke . i hate jokes and i hate to play .
i am going to sit here . and exist . just exist till the end . till all the veins get melted , till the nerves get eaten by the atmosphere . till all the voices of the world shut up into their onw riots . until i give up of the first person of the singular . all the idea of "I" , isn't me , isn't mine .
Jesus , i trust you to be my intermediary for be able to talk to THE FATHER .
all the real beault and truth of this planet doesn't come fron this planet .
all the real beault and truth of this dimension doesn't come fron this dimension .
not even the rare lapses of purity that some hearts have once in life ...... every single criature is just a link for unreachble distances .... i don't understand why .. why all this work .
( and a supernova sings uder my tongue )

thank You Sir
the simple " just because " fron the Heaven and i got sheltered . it is all i need to hear .

Maren's scent : Loving Green's dimension smells like NordenVind

2010-07-16T23:52:00.002-03:00

Maren's scent : Loving Green's dimension smells like NordenVind

IF YOU WANT TO SEE THIS POST WITH IMAGES VISIT MEIN WELT

For 2 weeks i have thought to post those pictures , but with a text together . i stil have no idea of what to write .
Sinse i visited her blog for the first time i got involved by her life that seens very simple but has hiden corners , fissures leading you to a magic breath . the time passed and i was introduced to those photographys between teas , petals and touchs of cats .
It made me remember of 2 paintings i made after Saskia passed away . I was searching things that at the time i believed was impossible to find in my life . i had no model for to paint my feelings or dreans . Then Maren comes fron this fog of my hopes and visions , extends her bright hand and introduces me to this very particular beauty .
I looked for it , went to so many places of the this planet . But nothing was unveiled , i feel i was always at the wrong place at the wrong time . I don't know what is harder : to never find and believe that it doesn't exist ; or after all your hope is gone and you are exausted , to see that it is possible but you have failed and the gates didn't want to open for you when you was there .
Other sensation i had made me remember the King Kong movie ( that i don't like and never had patience to watch till the end ) . I felt like a primitive half wild cat - half man in a forgotten place , face to face with a delicate beauty fron a distant world . It is very disturbing for me .
These last days i have bilt a tiny cathedral made of crystal . I am going to put Maren , her garden with all the flowers , her cats , her lake , all her green love on the palm of my hand and raise the cathedral 's walls all around it . She will be protected for ever and allow me to do not let this dream to scape again . At dawn i will lift up the Mare's world over the clouds and it will shine as a day's star . At night , when starts to get cold i will give a last glance under the moon light , pic it up , bring to my shelter , watch her singing the last song before she goes to bed , and keep the cathedral , this " Loving Green World " into my jacket's pocket . Keeping warm and safe , repeating this ritual every day , for ever and ever .
So see her blogs before i reach , capture her " High Elves " female scent and hide fron the rest of the civilization deep into my montain's rainforest . AMEN .
http://www.nordenvind.blogspot.com/
http://www.marenshus.blogspot.com/

tracking by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-16T23:50:00.000-03:00

tracking

tracking breaths of lost distances
the world curves its own sizes as a ring- toy on my fingers
i didn't have flashs of lights in an obvious lead , so choose to acept forgoten paths as they were new songs . and my cheast found life in a green pond inside .

my bloodhound instinct smells my own feelings at the other side of the world , used by fragil sincere hands .
you know what ? all my intutions fail . i don't know what to feel anymore . just keep going , traking , traking , traking ......
i am here , the universe all around , and just that .
no especific references , i follow the void .
the only way to find myself or something else is geting lost . again . traking feelings , as they were new songs .

extinct kinds of molecules want a new life . by Caio Fernades

2010-07-16T23:48:00.002-03:00

extinct kinds of molecules want a new life .

my left hand over my left thigh . my right hand searching internal shines that scape to the air .
than my right fingers passing through my left fingers . cells of stars fall fron all over .
it is embarrassing to have the dna of light and don't see it .

- what you're looking for is inside of you
- i always knew that , but i don't find a way .

she prepared the tea and served me in a very ornamented cup , delicated porcelain . blue and pink drawings . details of gold . hot hot hot, smelled like flowers ..... aroma of windows . wide opened ones . increasing beautys inside me . but i got empty . i couldn't touch that . as the space inside my chest was infinite comparing with everything around .

what is a man suposed to do when its own nature , the best nature , is out of reach ? how can i bring this up and live with .....?

God God God !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
God God God......................

extinct specimes of molecules left crystal impressions on ancient memories that i don't know how i am carring .
but they are here inside , are part of me . they are older than me . i don't know what to do with this .
a bless
a puzzle

Giny , Araucaria , and the Montain . - by Caio Fernandes . 2009 .

2010-07-16T23:42:00.003-03:00

Giny , Araucaria , and the Montain . - by Caio Fernandes . 2009 .
Photo by Gunter Roesler 1968.

The dogs and cats are with my mother . It is friday night and has been some thing around 7 hours that i left home , feeling so free and light alread ; just me and my faithful backpack that has followed me for so many years around the world . I had no machines , just a jack-knife and a longer knife almost the size of a sword and cloths , a bag of soy pizza flavor and a gallon of water .
I was climbing the montain at dark , there under the trees has absolut no light , the forest is too closed and intence , i am just able to walk because it is a litle path i know sinse i was a litle boy . It was some thing like 12 degrees in Sao Paulo , on the montain was below zero . I love this temperature ! After hours i arrived at the litle shack and opened its door , lighted a fire . Home .
I see that it is cleaner than i imagined , i prefer to believe that a very romantic couple found this place months ago . Everything is on its right place . As it has been for the last 30 years .
My family on the winter hollidays used to come to a house near this place , at this same montain . While they liked going to the town shopping and eating at the restaurants , i liked to stay alone , playing among the trees of the forest . But who showed me this hiden shack was a gay couple that had a house near here too , they didn't build it but used to come here before of to buy their house . These two mans were very polite with me and filled my mind with fantastic storys of their jouney around the world . I dont remember their names , sad . But the day i saw this litle house for the first time i told it would be my general headquarter ; they said it is ok for then .
The shack is so perfect ! Alvenary with details in wood . Small , just a bedroon and a tiny kitchen with an english wood oven made of iron fron the 19th centure . At the bedroom there is a couple bed . Nobody knows who constructed it , or why . but it is there , opened for every one . today it is exactly the same way , but i hanged a Jesus picture on the wall 17 years ago and wrote under it :" this house is opened for you , be welcome " .
This friday night I was feeling a green light of glory around my exausted body when i went to bed . Listening the loud sinfony of the forest . Here never had silence , all the animals that you never saw and will never see make the most weird sounds after sunset . Sometimes you are sure that spirits of evil women are calling your name . Sometimes you have the feeling that some kind of unknow being are walking around the walls of the house , smeling you and cursing your blood . Don't worry , those are just some sounds of the tropical jungle at night . I slept and dreamed with colorfull shines that got into my bed and danced all over my skin . Puting me on the roof where i could see stars singing futures and dimentions .
Morning . Misty montain calling me , holding my hand while i re-discovered every single specime of plant , while the squirrels climbeb the trees for to get the tiny red coconuts , same size of a cherry . And the monkeys gave the first screems . By the colour of the air and position of the few sun i can see among the leafs it is 5 o'clock . I went to the creek near here and took some water . Freezing . The cold air on my face and hands make me feel alive and brand new . The smell of the fog over the plants gets into the skin feeding my breath ....
I do nothing , just try to walk , for who doesn't know this kind of wood , the plants here do not allow you to get into the forest and go further . It is too dense for human body and the chances of be found by a snake or spider are strong . But with this weather the snakes must to be far way in rocky places looking for the sunshines . I try to find the monkeys . I know they are the size of a Lhasa Apso , but it is too rare to see then . They are over me , i listen then , see the branchs moving , but all the plants hide then fron my sight . They are making a huge noise now , they always did . And it is going to be for the whole day . They argue and fight all the time . It is a hell , but what can i do ? this is their territory , they have had this behaviour for thousands of years . I pretend don't care .
After a couple of hours i decided to climb down the montain i litle bit and go to visit "the farm" . The old path was totaly invaded by the plants . But the trees and rocks are the same , there is no way i get lost , it seens that i was there one week before . Started to collect on the way petals , herbs and leafs for prepare tea , and pinhao for eat . Pinhao is a kind of nut fron a very particular kind of pine that just exist on this part of the world named Araucaria . There are other kinds of Araucaria here that we don't eat the pinhao . But this kind of nut can't be eaten raw , must to be coocked before . I got kilos of it and put into my backpack . the sound of the blue birds and the cicadas around invited me to get further and i forgot the monkeys noise fastly .
The Farm : " Giny" , i am not sure , was a friend of a friend of my parents . One day i went there with my mother , at her farm for a dinner , i was 3 or 4 years old , and i remember . I am just sure that the first time i went alone into the woods was for trying to find her .
She breeds horses , arabian and english pure bloods for hipism ( i don't know the name of this sport in english when the horses have to jump obstacles , fences ... equestrianism ? something like that ) . I came to see the horses and even more for to see her : Giny is how i wrote her name sinse i was a kid . One of the first words i learned to write . But i don't know if the right way to write her name is Jeannie or Jenny ...and i have no idea of her last name . Is Giny for me , for ever . What I like to see is her colection of pines . She has pines fron all over the world , lots of specimes , fron the most comuns to the most exotics . And to arrive to her house i have to pass through these little pines forest . Their view and smell are like a gigantic green gate for me ; this "pine wood" divides the world behind fron Giny's lands .
Now the farm is old , the stables are empty , i saw just 3 old horses far way . After 15 minutes walking i am able to see the house . The house must to be painted . Giny must to be with 80 years old now or more .
She was beautiful , the kind of woman that is the every man's dream . Tall , blonde , thin , large breasts , huge legs , a face that makes you forget all the words ... you know what i am talking about . She never got married , i don't know her story , she never got friends too . But by all i saw of her very very strong personality , i prefer to think it was an option .
My first memory that comes to mind when i think of her , is when i was 7 years old . I had spent all the mornig far fron my parents losing myself into the forest . So i decided to visit Giny , she liked me and was the only one that talked with me as i was an adult and not a kid .
When i got there all the employees where hiding thenselfs and the horses screaming loud in panic . I was able to , behind the trees and bushs get closer of the house and see what was happening , there was a onça on the roof of the house ( onça here is the same than a cougar or puma ) . I was near it , behind a tree facing in silence the onça and it muscles . She was nervous , showing the fangs , loud angry noises with no name . Sundely i listen a car engine , and that silver Mercedes Bens stops in front of the house . Giny alone comes out of it . Magnificent , long black leather boots till the knees , black pants , a white polo t-shirt , her big breasts with no bra ...long blond hair , sun glasses . She stops few metros fron the onça . Takes out the classes . Looks at me ( she was the only human that saw me there , all the employes were hiden far far way fron there ) . she extends her left hand in my direction calling me with a smile . I runned fast to her arms . and hugged her thighs staring the animal . she faces it and say : " You can go now , go to your family " . The onça went to the ground in silence , calm , slowly , jumped in direction of the forest and went away .
I hugged Ginys thighs hard , my lips touched her belly under the t-shirt , i kissed her warm golden skin and looked up to those big breasts in white cotton canvases , her face shined . For seconds i felt her as a man must to feel a woman . She smiled to me passing the left hand on my hair and the right one on my back . Then the employes came runing making noises and eager to tell their impressions and versions of the fact . I hated then , and sinse then i decided that i would never hire people to work for me ...... she has 60 years old or someting at this time . But for a 7 years old kid , 60 and 30 makes no diference . It is all adult . Even so , she was reachable , she was mine for those secounds .
At the same hollidays , but other day , i was observing the horses , while she prepared her favorite dark english one and one of the arabians for me . I thought i would ride the short arabian one , as i was used to ride brazilian breeds as Manga Larga and Campolina , horses the same size of the arabians . But she told me to go to the english one . I got scared and exited : " Wow , really ?!! He is so tall and fast ?!! " , .... she looked at me seriously :" You must to . You have total control of the german shepherds of your house , you control the people that works for your father and mother , control of the cats ... you are gentle and good , even so make then obey your orders . If you dominate this horse today , nobody in your life will never be able to tell you what to do ."
This was the way her mind worked . I didn't know that the horse was a sweet one , so i decided to "climb " him , and spent all that afternoon riding him over the clifs and among the pines feeling as i was the most powerfull and free man on the world .

So this saturday now i got into the house . Called her name , she came fron the attic , loked at me and gave that perfect smile . She recognized me at first glance and huged me making me feel confortable . She is shorter than i am now . And the last years haven't being kind with her . Last time we met was few years ago .
On the table i put the pinhoes , asked her to cook then . It would be ready in 1 day . Not for lunch . She was preparing lunch alred , the kitchen had a sutil aroma of food . We talked about the farm , then she told me about the newest object , a computer . Till begining of 90's the house didn't even have eletric energy , telephone or gas , she dispited modern things but cars , and still does , but because of the age , she decided to have some of then . She fired all the employes ( YES!! well done !! ) , sold the horses and just kept 3 very old females with her . She says are easy to take care . I told her i had a blog , and showed it . She didn't know i've been a painter for the last 10 years !! I didn't know i have never told her about this . What makes me feel good . In front of her i was just myself , anything else . She saw the blog and laughed .
The meal was just integral rise , coocked vegetables and honey-mostard . She isn't vegan like me , but eats few meet , as always did . The only meat i saw on her table all those years was the bunnys she used to breed . Once she killed a white one of then in front of me , i was 6 years old or less . She was very gentle , respectfull , kissed the poor animal and killed him with just one moviment , no pain , no fear . But even so i don't like to remember that .
After lunch we laid on the lawn with the view to the valley as we used to do sinse the first times i started to visit her . There are no flowers on the sides anymore . Used to have red -purple flowers dividing the lawn to the forest . At afternoon , litle foxes used to put their head among the flowers for to observe us . chating chating chating .........we love to do this , we chat about nothing , Giny doesn't talk with anybody , she doesn't like anyone , just me . it makes me feel important and previleged .
The view of the valley is splendid , but i know that when Giny dies , the farm that is huge , will be sold by the family to companys that are going to construct condonms , golf fields .... streets ...hell , just the ork's hell .
After sunset i went back to the forest and to the shack . There , i slept fast . Next day i spent all the time drinking tea of petals , herbs and leafs i found , praying for God , Jesus , walking around the area , geting courage to wash myself with the freezing water of the creek .... at the afternoon i started to fix the old doors and windows of the "home" . Nothing complicated , this shack is really a blessed place , never needs to rebuilding nothing , nobody takes care of it , anyone comes here to maintain , and it never gets old . a mistery , a miracle .
At night i started to throw up . It is great . When i was a kid and came with my family , for the first 2 days i felt normal , but at tird and forth days i got in bed , just throwing up... it was the organism expeling the Sao Paulo's poluition . At 5th day i was brand new again . Ready for more adventures . It hapens with less intencity now but still does . What is very very good .
Monday , today , i went back to the farm , Giny had prepared pinhao , we ate and laughed , then walked among the pine colection . She gave me a car ride to the town , i took the bus . Giny doesn't have photografs of her face , didn't have kids , didn't painted nothing , never wrote a poem , never composed a song , never built a house ....nothing never , when she dies her existence will just vanish fron the world . i like to imagine this . It is pure freedon . Courage . She is a pure spirit .
Ciau Giny , Ciau Misty Montain ... hope to see you both before the orks find you with their progress .
3 hours later arrived to Sao Paulo City , took the subway , walked a lot , crossed the avenues ... back to this house , hugged the dogs and cats , we rolled on the floor and jumped among the furnitures .
New life . Let's start now .

Lucas - 15 - 1;7 -- for Linda and all of us .

2010-07-16T23:39:00.000-03:00

Lucas - 15 - 1;7 -- for Linda and all of us .

JESUS RECEBE OS PECADORES
15 - Aproximavam-se da Jesus todos os publicanos e pecadores para o ouvir .
E murmuravan os fariseus e os escribas , dizendo: este recebe os farizeus e come com eles .

APARABOLA DA OVELHA PERDIDA
Entao , lhes propos Jesus esta parabola :
Qual , dentre vos , e homen que possuindo 100 ovelhas e perdendo uma delas , nao deixa no deserto as 99 e vai buscar a que se perdeu , ate encontra-la ?
Achando -a , poe-na sobre os ombros , cheia de jubilo .
E indo para casa , reune os amigos e os visinhos , dizendo-lhes : Alegrai-vos comigo , porque ja achei minha ovelha perdida .
Digo-vos que , assim , havera maior jubilo no Ceu por um pecador que se arrepende do que por 99 justos que nao necessitam de arrependimento .

one day i am going to belong to something good , you will see - by Caio Fernandes - 2009

2010-07-16T23:35:00.000-03:00

one day i am going to belong to something good , you will see - by Caio Fernandes - 2009

curving my spine into sterile steps
the arms of the stagnant air taste like sweaty wood

yesterday the white light raised me tall
i can't hold it . don't know why or how

moviments of my sholders opening passages among molecules of dead dreams
the white ballet licking silences
the white-grey ballet spining solitude inside my throat

there is no space in my life
i had to close doors behind me , but nothing got opened in front of ...
i had to close all the doors of rejection and hate and it will not get opened again

now you comb the curly points of your bright hair
siting gold over the dusty corners of my lips . beyond my fingers . beyond my chest
you forced me to say to a friend :
" one day i am going to belong to something good , you will see "

i don't know what to do , keep streching out the neck to the ignorance
burning embers covered by ashes is the only feeling i have now
i am blind and just have a blind faith

SUBMERSE LIFE - POCKET DEATH / LINDA IS A SLUT - by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-16T23:25:00.003-03:00

Submerse Life - Pocket Death/ Linda is a Slut - by Caio Fernandes - 2009

IF YOU WANT TO SEE THIS POST WITH IMAGE VISIT MEIN WELT

Linda isn't the real name . i always protect who i love .
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fish scales ; seems to be fragil but are there for thousands of years .
she opened fissures among colorful reflections over her silence .
she did .
and was beautiful ...
fron here , far way i saw ribs shining .
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she walking down the street
hands in pockets
curved
she opened fissures among colorful reflections
i saw ribs shining
i felt a vacuum of logic between it but fulfilled with white light around .
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but someone saw fear
.......someone felt fear
and called her slut .
and everybody called her slut .
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wouldn't be fair even if it was true
so let's go !!
everybody repeat this till start to make sense and be true !!!!
camon !!! everybody :
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LIN . DA . IS . A . SLUT
LIN . DA . IS . A . SLUT
LIN . DA . IS . A . SLUT
LIN . DA . IS . A . SLUT
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submerse life - pocket death , Linda .
"do not judge for to do not be judged - Jesus ..." yes , nobody reads this part of the Bible ( my favorite one ) .
Welcome Linda !! this is Mein Welt . nobody will judge you here .

not tonight, amigo - by Caio Fernandes

2010-07-16T23:18:00.002-03:00

not tonight amigo - the curse of the heat by Caio Fernandes 2009 / acrylic on canvas by Caio Fernandes 2007

the skin upon the dark table under the weak light .
so quiet .
involving running blood .
speed of destiny into the veins . burning hot .
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wings of lost moments breathing vacuos of strange blue dimensions . they're gone .
love drops and vanishs as beautiful landscapes this body never belonged
heat heat heat . be naked is the only experience i can have
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i sit on the bed . it is a fact . the silence pulsing high temperetures .
i swallow my saliva . it has many sounds .
i spit my last thought . it is blank .
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there are no galaxies inside my chest anymore .
the heat consumed this for feed the space and air .
who needs space and air ? this is so tridimensional and sufocating .
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geting up . i walk with no direction . slow ....
to live inside a body is just to be a spot of flesh among heavy atoms .
but under this heat .
to live inside a body is just to be a steaming spot of flesh among sticky atoms with no doors .
arrested into an existence that doesn't allow me to exist .
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lips don't want to wake up . they rest on my arms . muscles are good pillows .
feets exausted on the floor . ground is such a geografic waist .
no other alternative but to lay down into the shadows of the bed . the warm sheets smashing solitude against my neck .
my cock gets hard exploding . the first sign of real life in me .
- " not tonight amigo . there is nothing for us here " .

leave a message after the beep - by Caio Fernandes 2010

2010-07-16T23:14:00.000-03:00

leave a message after the beep - by Caio Fernandes 2010

the space flaps among vacuums of my chest .
a piece of red absence hiden into my pocket . i take out my pants .
my lips could reach the atoms of bright dreams moving behind wings of white light now , that i have learned about the diference between images fron heart and feelings fron imagination ......
so why don't i have all the taste melting completely on me ?

the fast moviments of low clouds revel montains before surronded by a green soft atmosphere ...when the golden sunshines touch the trees on the top , the montains start to dive into the sea in silence .
the predominant clear blue of this subtle dance licks my forehead flirting with my spine .

destiny , as birds in spirit with hound's nose , tracing the next galaxy to hunt and the next bless to take .
a soul climbs the emptiness , both exist towards the same target ......
the space flaps among my chest , the dusty table and furs of fragil sensations .

you know what ? i am going to watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S 's dvd and eat pop-corn . happiness is coming anyway , i just have to trust and relax . if the phone starts to ring , the machine will say i am working on my next painting , leave a message after the beep and thank you very much !