Beloved MINDY ( 1990 - 2010 )

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.



-

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

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.

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

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 .

INFLUENCES: EXPRESSIONISMO, MUNCH, WORPESWEDE,

Influences : ExpressionismO , Munch , Worpswede , uncontrollable incomprehensible LOVE by Germany and Norway's painting. God bless then all ! by Caio

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

Following this series of influences ( see the earlier post about punk albuns covers ) that i intend to post every wednesday .
To talk about influences for me is to be fair . Justice before all . And because i was never influenciated by what i believe , but by what i love .
So these posts about influence is my way to declare my love .

Now it is time to talk about the art that was so decisive in my life . Art responsable for the idea of to leave all i was doing in my live , carrier , and dedicate all my time to painting .
yes .... "Expressionismo" as i call here . No , i never considered myself as an expressionist , but only as a distant son of it .
when i was still a childen , not more than 5 , 6 years old , i had an ideal of perfect painting . It was a self portrait of the noruegian Eduard Much , dark and colorful at the same time ( the very first painting of this post ) . I used to say that any art piece that wasn't similar that work was a total waist ( when i was a kid , i had weird strong dogmans about art and tolerance wasn't in my vocabularie . weird because has no artists in my family and i didn't live in any enviroment where i could know or develop these concepts ) . In my mind that work was pure expression and pure painting and i had never heard about expressionism .
(Just a fast memory always comes to my mind : kind of on this age , around 4 years old , i was in the tv room with my father and on tv started to show about a local painter . When showed his process , i saw him drawing with a pencil on the board before to paint . I can't explain why . But i had an access of rage and started to beat on the tv , beating on my father that defended the guy , and i almost broke the tv . I started to cry and screeming that" to draw before to paint was a sin" . A SIN !! hahahahh!! I wanted to kill that "siner " . Why do i had this kind of opinion when i was a kid i don't know . But i love to remember this bizarre storys ). "
Okay , back to Eduard Much : 1996 , (me- 21 years old) i was working with photography , images made by computer and mixed media when opened an Eduard Much exhibition in Sao Paulo , i just knew his work by books and liked it . There are no Munchs in public or private colections here .
I went to the exibition do not expecting so much . I was tired alread of art exhibitions . It would be just one more in my life .
i didn't believe in what my eyes met there . Who was there ? the self portrait i had worshiped when i was a kid and forgoten for the last years . The entire exhibition was all i had always dreamed about : pictorial values , textures , themes ........ my home , my temple . On the first day i spent 7 hours there inside trying to memorise every single brush stroke . It was a small exibition , only 2 rooms and a corridor . I have the catalog of it still today , 18 paintings . The team of security staff got really concerned with my presence after the first 2 hours , hahahh! They got around me , just few steps , observing every gesture i did . I didn't give a crap for then . That was MY moment to meet the master . To say hello , to recieve love , beauty and learning .
The next day i went there again , spent more 5 hours observing details and the security staffs almost got a heart attack when saw me again !! hahah!!His work is present in every single paint i do . I just started to really paint in 1999 , so i got between 1996 and 1999 with all the Much's bush strokes printed in my brain . When i was in College studing Psychology , i used to close my eyes and remember "how he did that petal of the flower , how he did that nose on the lady's face , how he did ... " to be able to forget about the world around me and focusing on the books to study hard . God bless his soul for ever ! I have lots to tell about Eduard Munch in my life and what happened with me the times when i discovered one more work of him in some european museun . Maybe one day i make a post of tribute to him .

DEUTSCHLAND :
When i started to paint , my main interece was the Germans , not just the expressionists . But 70% of then were expressionists . As a matter of fact i hated all then , hated the fact they were so good and all i had in mind about what doing with my work , they had done already . And made much better the way i had imagined . hahah!!
I was a huge fan of Georg Baselitz . I didn't have money to buy one book of his work , and again , here in Sao Paulo we don't have any Baselitz in any collection . So i found a guy that was a horrible artist , very mediocre and annoying , just spent his time speaking about politic and human rights ( BLUAH ) the tipical hypocrit elitist , but he had a Baselitz book on his studio , and a wonderful Fluxus book too . So at that time , i used to get drunk , and for visiting this guy i stoped before on the nearest bar and drunk all my money could pay ( not too much ) . When i wasn't able to think , listen or care anymore i went to visit him ( the only way to do not be "molested " by his socialist speechs) . Sitting on the sofa with the book i looked at it as i was visiting a whore . Just me and the book , passion , exitment , and anything else . Learning every moviment , every color , every form .
But Baselitz is a contemporary artist .
I had passion for ... what i call : the first generation of the German Expressionism . And more than everything : WORPSWEDE ......... a dream on Earth .
Worpswede is a village set in beautiful countryside in Lower Saxony, Germany, near the city of Bremen. In 1889 the painters Paula Modersohn , Fritz Mackensen, Otto Modersohn and Hans am Ende moved there and founded an artists colony..... How i discovered then and it got in my life i am not sure . And it is perfect to do not remember , gets even more magic . God , please bless all then too . I love all then so much that i am losing my breath now and feeling like to cry .
I am not a fan of print making even with most part of my friends being printers and not painters , and inviting me so much for the last 15 years to start to print . But the Prints made by those artist in Worpswed transform your eyes in a institution of the soul for ever and nothing can be made to revert this situation . They produced lots of paintings and photographys too . Nothing there was mediocre . All briliant , incredible , breath taken , extremely beautiful , sincere and "magicaly so real " .
Other expressionist groups , more important for most part of the art critics but not for me :" Brücke" , and

"Der Blaue Reier" . Yes , i had for long moments observing their works , but learning much more about what do not to do in painting . It was too idealistic , too expressionist as a concept and not as a genuine expression .
Here i am posting some of my works where Expressionism appears in a very screaming and obvious way , and in one of then , my version of "The Jealousy " by Eduard Much i've done in 2005 , named " The other side of the world and I " . I didn't realised that it was a Munch copy till i have finished . hahahh!!
And i am posting the Much's self portrait i always loved , and other things i have here in home and make me proud .
There is 2 Baselitz works i've stolen fron internet , and what i could get fron Worpswede . As i don't have any book of it and the German institution that takes care of it ( i believe the name is "Institut fur Auslandsbeziehungen " , but i am not sure ) is an asshole and don't allow anyone to get closer of the works and the images . This institution just have helped to make the world don't have a real contact with it and make the artists get in shadow for the bigger public . I am pretty sure that if these artists were alive they wouldn't acept this selfish and narrow minded policy .
List of works on this post :
. THE Eduard Munch's self portrait that is in my mind sinse i was a kid .
. by Caio Fernandes 2007
. Caio Fernandes 2008
. Caio Fernandes 2004
. Caio Fernandes 2009
. 2 print versions of Jealousy by Eduard Much
. Jealousy by Eduard Much
. Jealousy by Eduard Much
. The other side of the word and me - by Caio Fernandes 2005
. by Caio Fernandes 2004 - totaly Much's influence .
. EINE - by Caio Fernandes 2004
. a fouder of a Worpswede's exhibition that happened here in Sao Paulo and i keep as was a winner lottery ticket .
. Hans am Ende 1895
. the cover of my favorite book " Eduard Munch in Chemnitz .
. 3 photos of Eduard Much .
. 2 paintings by Baselitz .
. then .... 1 painting and one print by Paula Mordersohn .