DOMINIC SYMES

I am a writer from Adeliade, Australia. I write poems about Visual Art. This is called Ekphrasis. I post the paintings that I am writing about, to help the reader see what I am seeing.  Some older poems on this page are conceptual works themed around new media texts. Follow the hashtags under each poem to read the poems in series as they were intended. (N.B All Visual Works remain the property of the Artist and all attempts have been made to properly cite their original source) - contact: [email protected]

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES #8

where were you? in the shadows in the corner? behind the floodlights? in between the cracks in the old timber frame where the heat escapes?

recall one piece of 2x4, birch as I remember, leaning against the old wall

recuperating, congealed, left black and blue to dry out in the cold.

another question of source, did you try and hack a straight path through the jungle? did you try and follow a sextant through the foggy ocean beyond the bay? did you search the internet looking for your absent father?

true believers regard, one above all - the source of wisdom and hope, the rest are left in holy spaces

in Dionysian fits we dance in revelry a round totem poles pleading with the spirits for the answers

a further question on source: did you access this from the frontal lobe? the memory chamber? the cartesian split? the id? the subconscious? the divine intervention?

lonely sailors spend cold nights listlessly drifting from one side of the deck to the other

from the shore only the tall masts are visible in flutters from the lighthouse.

a final query regarding source: do you know what blue means?

all at once the chaos must stop we seek knowledge to an end,

such seduction towards impossible accounts for the how and why

momentary lapses in authority, tacit judgement

you have made my bed, and now I have to sleep in it.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES #7

An American in Canberra hoping it would be warmer the June morning, without my coffee told I couldn’t take inside.

Carrying my jacket, unable to retrace my steps back to the cloakroom, no interest in pastorals.

Passing Australian landscapes on the walls, finding it difficult to see what is significant about Eucalypts and Bushrangers.

The exhibition eludes me following the signs, looking at my watch, how long before closing?

Bigger than I’d imagined, taking a seat on the backless lounge, uncertain where to start.

Transported back to the top of the Grand Canyon, the panorama consuming my entire field of vision, commanding silence and reverie.

Interrupted by the thick vowels of an Australian woman, with an assortment of middle school students.

My quiet conversation in familiar West Coast accents, with Pollock on the wall must wait.

Checking my watch again, wishing they would leave.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 6

This morning I woke up feeling blue. From the first cigarette in bed I coughed phlegm all over my sheets. I ashed it out and went to make breakfast. The eggs ran all over my plate and in a weary stupor I watched them ooze yellow onto my toast. I left the plate in the sink and went back to bed. I picked my journal off the floor and out fell the pieces of my blue pen. I must have stepped on it at some point, as there was ink everywhere making what I’d written unreadable. I blew my nose on some tissues, but it started bleeding. It was the last one in the box, so I had to run to the bathroom. I leant over the sink and watched the blood drip into the murky grey water.  The drain must have become blocked again. The blood clotted eventually. I got dressed and headed out to the shed. When I opened the door I knocked over a tin of paint that I’d been saving for the outside wall. The cream acrylic went all over the concrete of the patio, but I let it run. I figured it would dry eventually. I didn’t have time anyway, I’d wasted enough of my morning not painting.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 5

is this it?

you have known colour before but not like this,

as way of introduction formality demands, the merging rivers of conscious and spontaneous creation meet as philosophy and the paint splattered on his feet.

let your mind wander around the room because colour is nothing without context, a tradition to rest on.

the belgian canvas doesn’t speak belgian, or any other language, so why bother trying to coax words from it?

you may ask, but I will refuse to illuminate any more than I know he would have wanted,

instead, let me ask a question of my own, why would Whitlam have wasted $1.3 million

on exploding stars, runny eggs, arctic blizzards, patchwork elephants, bleeding gums and golden threads held in place by eight blue poles to hang in an unfinished national gallery in the middle of nowhere?

still people flock to see it like a meteor shower or aurora borealis.

can you ever be calm amid the whispers and sniggers?

does it make you anxious, being in it’s presence?

if it makes you feel better, I could download a jpeg to your desktop to make you feel more at home?

how does it make you feel? could you have done better? is it nothing but a storm inside a teacup?

that follows you around the room in the moment of creation mad with tubes of acrylic angst, concentric revolutions stalking the canvas, imposing himself with distillatory proof.

aboriginal painting was colonized after blue poles had invaded Australia’s sovereign borders, putting sixty thousand years into context and currency

painting on the ground was not an original idea, native cultures have traditionally left their footprints on art

when you have no walls, the floor does just fine, he might have said to himself.

it’s nice to finally be alone.

you can see the house that jackson built, held up by blue poles.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 4

the colour blue is never angry, never urgent. it intends no harm; in fact it intends nothing at all.

the colour blue is an origin unto itself an independent pillar of colour, the source of it’s own becoming without beginning or ending.

the colour blue is not artistic on its own, but defenseless against purpose and artistic intention, easily interpreted as an emotional descriptor or reference to a physical struggle.

the colour blue is none of these, alone, it remains silently compliant.

the blue pen is never angry, never urgent. it intends no harm; in fact it intends nothing at all.

the blue pen is a vessel in which words are carried without complaint.

the blue pen is pregnant with words gestating inside, kicking with potential as shopping lists suicide notes, essays, contracts, calculations, ballads, eulogies.

the blue pen is none of these, alone, it cries thick blue tears.

the blue ocean is never angry, never urgent. it intends no harm, in fact it intends nothing at all.

the blue ocean is vast beyond human comprehension, it defies description or ownership.

the blue ocean is loud and violent, it is quiet and tranquil, it is shallow and light, it is deep and dark.

the blue ocean is none of these, alone, it is transparent in abstraction.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 3

hollow skulls and eyelashes, electrical sockets, stairs and concrete mud maps to ancient burial grounds with each pulsation a ray of sunlight, illuminates the dark urban jungle, for breakfast graffiti 

practiced in east hampton packing sheds dripping blood onto the sheets, roofs of copper elephant’s ears a mask for new apocalyptic fear in exhibitions of darkness, sacred frustrations

kick the bucket go-go boots dagger tipped poisonous frogs re-spawned discursive anarchy tips for making soap, fleeting power trips banana peels floating made up father christmases slicing telephone lines portraits of kings, spartan warriors heads dressed, mailboxes free-fall toward earth birds soaring await aeroplane’s engines, for all eternity practicing signatures in exercise books scrawling away exploding stars, burning overhead, dancing elves in the garden kissing fairies

an anteater’s tongue licking the inside of your ear to wake you up.

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 2

let me paint a picture for you:

your emotions must be contained somehow, bursting at their seams, eight blue stitches, a colourful violent psyche remains silent underneath.

reserved for truthful whispers, such as these, between sips of water on brown leather chaise lounges, yellow pads, fountain pens and mmmhmms,

how does it make you feel?

the frames on the wall are un- inspiring,

you’ve never liked landscapes anyway, the window is closed,

you’ve never liked portraits either so you avoid eye contact,

if you liked still life, then you wouldn’t be here would you?

that’s the source of your problems.

you stare at the wallpaper so long that it starts to look like the carpet and as the afternoon melts away outside, you stop listening, you feel yourself being lifted up out of your chair,

mid air you catch a glimpse of yourself in a little mirror on his desk, the convex lens confuses, you barely recognise yourself,

you didn’t come here expecting simple answers did you?

as the sorcerer’s apprentice conjures the water from your cup, the storm rages on inside, now you watch it engulf the room, the water rises and falls at the white gloved command,

what do you think is happening to you?

orchestrated in your dreams, overheard as if from another room, the water is sucked back into your glass, you blink and blink again.

you see the walls are as they were when you arrived, but there are patterns on them, watermarks, that look like something you have seen before but found it hard to articulate.

you are handed an inkblot test:

tell me what you see?

[dominicsymes]

BLUE POLES 1

anyone could have done this: just paint on a canvas, just words on a page.

there is no beauty, no technical refinement, only brains scattered everywhere. who is to say it isn’t unfinished or hanging upside down?

raw emotion without mediation or metaphor,

pure abstraction

nowhere to set up a base camp,

pure expression, a complete lack of respect for tradition.

‘when I am in my painting I am not aware of what I am doing’

obviously must have had a messy desk

‘the action is immediately art’,

‘spontaneous movement creates a unique experience’.

is this it?

obviously must have had a bit to drink

this is not art this is frustration

are we even talking about the same thing?

could anyone have done this?

[dominicsymes]

It took me four years to learn to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child

Pablo Picasso

[dominicsymes]

It’s all about the Blue Poles

[dominicsymes]

COMMENTARY: 7 PICTURES OF BEYONCE THAT TOTALLY REDEFINE PERFECTION. This poem comments on the attention grabbing style of headlines used on Buzzfeed. There seems to be no objective for the site other than generating web traffic and getting people to their site by appealing to things that are popular or trending. It is a news site that doesn’t present any real news. From reading the titles on the page, I realized patterns such as the appeal to female users. As it is imitative appropriation, I emphasized this useless news aspect of the site by referencing cats and Game of Thrones. I also incorporated the second person into the poem as this is a tactic used by the site to engage their audience.

[dominicsymes]

CONTEXTUAL STATEMENT: 7 PICTURES OF BEYONCE THAT TOTALLY REDEFINE PERFECTION This poem assumes the style of article headlines on Buzzfeed, a website that presents content. The style of language is very specific to the viral intention of the website, to generate traffic onto the site. As all the headlines on the site contain numbers I chose to present the poem as a countdown.

[dominicsymes]

7 PICTURES OF BEYONCE THAT TOTALLY REDEFINE PERFECTION.

14 must see pictures of cats.

13 minutes into this video you will be speechless (watch all the way to the end).

12 celebrity twitter wars.

11 thoughts every woman has had trying on a swimsuit.

10 reasons your english major will get you nowhere.

9 signs you grew up in Australia in the nineties.

8 G.O.T facts that will change how you watch the show forever (spoiler alert!)

7 pictures of Beyonce that totally redefine perfection.

6 best disney princesses.

5 songs with outrageously epic intros (you won’t be able to sit still).

4 pictures that prove how eyebrows change your face.

3 ways to get your cat to love you more.

2 very different ways to approach the red carpet (you decide).

1 website you need to visit today.

[dominicsymes]

COMMENTARY: FOLLOW. The idea behind this poem was to usurp the sensible uses of twitter. It comments on the advertising and business presence on twitter with all the business names, as well as on the universality of twitter as a platform for communicating, with some text in Russian and Chinese characters. The word ‘follow’, in a similar way to the word ‘like’ has adopted a new meaning through social media. This is a nonsense poem that puns on the usage of the verb ‘to follow’ and perhaps could be seen as a wake up call to the tacit acceptance of social media which everyone is eager to be a part of. This reflects the binary or wanting to stand out, but wanting to fit in by ‘following’. By purely appropriating, the piece assumes an ironic tone through the non-sensical connection between the user profiles.

[dominicsymes]

CONTEXTUAL STATEMENT: FOLLOW. This poem is taken from the search bar on twitter, when searching ‘sheep’. The user names were copied out and arranged thematically. The work is one of pure appropriation, the user names are unedited.

[dominicsymes]

FOLLOW.

Shaun the Sheep @shaunthesheep

An official account for the Shaun the Sheep website, bringing you all the latest news, competitions and special offers from Shaun HQ! 

geek sleep sheep @geeksleepsheep

◆ geek sleep sheep official twitter ◆ kazuhiro momo: vocal, guitar from MO'SOME TONEBENDER　345: vocal, bass from 凛として時雨　yukihiro: drum from L'Arc～en～Ciel 

The Black Sheep @BlackSheep_MSU

The Black Sheep: a college newspaper that's actually about college. And Spartying. 

BlackSheep @BlackSheepBeer

Established in 1992. Black Sheep Brewery produces award-winning ales in the time honoured fashion. 

Obwa Mneahtpon @penciled_sheep

лишённый логики, смысла и хоть какой-нибудь чёткой периодичности недокомикс про овцу-мизантропа и некоторых других овец 

Shannon @LittleEmoSheep

Adventurer, Starbucks lover & professional crazy person. I'm a caffeine based life-form. Addicted to British YouTubers, shopping & Skittles. Glitter scares me. 

Sheeps @sheepsofcomedy

The people who the joke about saying both skits and sketches is from. 

Electric Sheep @ESheepMagazine

The magazine for lovers of transgressive cinema 

~Relation Sheep~ @relatedship

A sheep brought to you by an another sheep to give you some advice about your goddamn problems. 

Black Sheep @BaabBaasheep

20. The black sheep of the family. princess. Aspiring catlady. Avi is me. 11-11-13 

Black Sheep Lodge @blacksheeplodge

Best burgers and beer joint in Austin! 512-707-2744 

Black Sheep Media @ShearTheSheep

BLACK SHEEP is the irreverent and ernest internet talk radio show you've come to know and love. 

Blaqk Sheep @blaqksheepmafia

Blaqk Sheep Music & Loud Disturbance Records/producer/engineer/musician/writer/vocalist.. 

Non’Sheep @NONSHEEP

ロックバンドNON'SHEEP（ノンシープ）officialアカウント！最新作「悪魔の飼育」このCDと連動したVo佐藤による小説「悪魔の飼育」（徳間書店）も発売中！メンバーアカウント：

Electrik Sheep @ElectrikSheep1

Electrik Sheep is an independent clothing brand in Newcastle, England founded in 2006 by Design Studio, Reluctant Hero. 

BlackSheepRestaurant @BlackSheepJax

At Black Sheep Restaurant, we believe everyone deserves great food at a reasonable price, attentive service, and thoughtful surroundings. 

Black Sheep Reviews @thesheeptweets

Black Sheep Reviews, a film review site. 

Sheep Dip @Sheep_dip

Sheep Dip is a hand crafted scotch malt whisky made from sixteen single malt whiskies aged between 8 and 21 years in first fill oak. 

National Sheep Assoc @natsheep

Striving for a sustainable and prosperous UK sheep industry. If you're not already a member, join today!

[dominicsymes]

COMMENTARY: LIKES. This poem is a comment on the facebook-specific use of the word ‘like’. ‘Like’ already has a number of meanings, but in this context it generally means agreeing with something the person has said or congratulating them on something they’ve done. The strange thing about this collection of statuses is that they do not feel appropriate to like because that would indicate support or congratulations when really it would be more apt to express sympathy. This is a comment on the narcissistic qualities of facebook users who use the social media site as a platform to complain about the bad things that happen in their life. The anaphoric repetition of the word ‘like’ becomes a chorus for the sad statuses. It also appears as a newsfeed, reading down, with the option to like sitting below each line. This is an instance of imitative appropriation rather than pure appropriation.