Tag Archives: JesusCristo

towards and towards


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

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

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

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

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

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

i must to pass by and stop to see

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

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

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

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

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

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

MERRY CHRISTMAS


Merry Christmas



Merry Christmas every one !
I do wish you all joy and wonderful moments.
As you know I love to celebrate this Holliday, my favorite.
Jesus bless you all.
Caio.


the last two images were made by the artist Ann Divelbiss.
http://annsimaginationcreations.blogspot.com

POSTED BY CAIO FERN

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


   

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.

www.silentspots.blogspot.com
www.meinwelt-22.blogspot.com
www.caiowelt.blogspot.com

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 .

March 23, 2011 10:26 AM
Caio Fern said…
The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.”
William Faulkner

March 23, 2011 11:24 AM
Caio Fern said…
This post has been removed by the author.
March 23, 2011 11:52 AM
Caio Fern said…
Christine Tarantino – NewNew Art –
This morning I was thinking about similar things. How as soon as I make a mark, that mark is dead. It no longer flows, it stops. I wonder if this is something artists might think about, ethically. Do you want the marks you make to really be there? And should all marks of art be beautiful? I say yes, to try is to aspire.

Caio Fern – Christine…if i don’t leave my work to posterity i feel no will to work….. my only need to to reach peoples the way artists of other centuries reached me.
it is more than reaching people from other cultures… i want to reach people from other times too…… this is eternity in art … this is a way of human being reachs some “material” ” phisical” and emotional eternity. about spiritual issues…..i don’t need art at all.
spiritual developing can be reached by itself .

but my work talks only about spirituall issues 😀

Baptism


your truth isn’t impressive. FUCK YOU WISY and your tolerance.


your truth isn’t impressive. FUCK YOU WISY and your tolerance.

i dislike writers that try to develop sentences to revel their wisdom showing what great intelectuals they are , trying to impress the reader with some new truth ( oh, he is so right ).
 why do they write this way? did the kids called then bumb when they were only a child and then grew up with this complex: “oh , i have to show i am smart”.
 camon. i am a fundamentalist Christian, if i want to read something wise i open the Bible .
what writer can substitute this?
any man can impress me , only God .
yes , i am “that” kind of people and i am not even sorry for this.
fuck you wisy!!

the writen Truth is just ONE : it starts with Genesis and finishes with Apocallipse.

i DO  love to be intolerant.
here it comes :
Jesus never told us to be tolerant, He said to love the other as yourself , not more or less.
it is totaly diferent. the oposite as a matter of fact .
tolerance is the resoursce of the hypocrits.
is a political correctness invention.
to be tolerant you must to be able to see the diferences , to love you must to be able to see the similaritys.
tolerance is to say:” hey! you are diferent of me , i don’t agree with you , i don’t even like you, but i tolerate you. see, i am  a nice guy, i tolerate you , so go back to your gueto, your tird world country, where i can tolerate you even more, see i tolerate you , i am a good person , i am going to sleep happy tonight and there is nothing you can say to acuse me , because i tolerate you”.
tolerance is the more eficient weapon against minoritys, the world never had so much tolerating people in its history and never had so much excluded people as well.
i know very very very well the both sides of the wall , i lived at both and belonged, behaved as the both.
i HATE tolerance.

fuck you wisy!!

( i feel so childish, writing this, using logic…. now i am like the writers i dislike )

Giny , Araucaria , and the Mountain . – by Caio Fern . 2009 .



Giny , Araucaria , and the Montain . – by Caio Fern . 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 photographs 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 .

2010 revised-all the production so far by Caio Fernandes and the MIRACLE OF THE MULTIPLICATION .


every 6 months i post here on Mein Welt all the production of the year so far . This has been a good year , i am not an example of prolictic attitute , but when i put these works side by side i get happier about the quality and even small number of then .
i think i have here a good exhibition already .
one thing that have called my attention last months is that this has been a very monocromatic year , the red has been used a lot . not a conscient intention i must to say .
what is funny because the last time i had bought red paint was 2004 , this little tube you can see on the first picture , and sinse then i have painted lots of works using this red , big , huge , small , tinny paintings , doesn’t matter , the red of this tube , believe or not , is there .
sinse 2008 i have called this THE MIRACLE OF THE MULTIPLICATION , as Jesus did twice with fishes and breads . i think it is a miracle Jesus have made to me . hahah!! not kidding !!!
but this year He gave me money enough to go to the art suplies store and buy more paint in many colors , including red .
so i have here a brand new small tube of red now to be used for the next 5 / 6 years . hahahh!! unless Jesus solve to do the miracle of the multiplication in my pocket and transform my cents in milions !!! i would like this miracle too .
ok , 13 paintings in 3 months , camon , i am not such a lazy bastard …. why should i want to produce more and faster ? and lets be sincere , this year production is really something . i am not satisfied but i admire what have happened inside my tiny studio .
thank you God , thank you Jesus , i know your miracles and blesses are behind every single brush stroke i do .
thank you everyone for have followed my production on this blog all this time .
i complain a lot and cry like a baby , but it has been a really good year .
www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1155734