Adam’s World — all about Adam, Anno 2021

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SHORT AUTHOR BIO:

ADAM DONALDSON POWELL (Norway) is a multilingual author, literary critic, and art photography critic; and a professional visual artist. He has published several literary books (including collections of poetry, short stories, and novellas, two science fiction novels, a biography, and a collection of essays) in the USA, Norway and India; as well as numerous works in international literary publications on several continents. He writes in English, Spanish, French and Norwegian. He has previously authored theatrical works performed onstage, and he has read his poetry at venues in New York City (USA), Oslo (Norway), Buenos Aires (Argentina), and Kathmandu (Nepal). His book “Gaytude” (co-authored with Albert Russo) won the 2009 National Indie Excellence Award in the category gay/lesbian non-fiction. Powell was also the winner of the Azsacra International Poetry Award in 2008, and the recipient of a Norwegian Foreign Ministry travel stipend for authors in 2005. Powell also took initiative to planning and organizing the “Words – one path to peace and understanding” international literary festival in Oslo, Norway in 2008. He has been an author under the Cyberwit label since 2005, and he has published 13 literary books since 1987.

GREAT QUOTE:

“There are some people who feel that fiction should be easy to read, that it’s a popular medium that should communicate on a somewhat conversational wavelength. On the other hand, there are those who feel that fiction can be challenging … that it’s okay if a person needs to work a bit while reading …

“Much in the way that would-be civilized debates are polarized by extreme thinkers on either side, this debate has been made to seem like an either/or proposition, that the world has room for only one kind of fiction, and that the other kind should be banned …

“But while the polarizers have been going at it, there has existed a silent legion of readers, perhaps the majority of readers of literary fiction, who don’t mind a little of both.”
— Dave Eggers, foreword to David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

Dr. Santosh Kumar’s book on the poetry of Adam Donaldson Powell.

Read some excerpts from the book HERE!

ADAM DONALDSON POWELL – WIKIPEDIA NORGE

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo: an alternative biography, l’Aleph — Sweden, ISBN 978-91-7637-401-6, © Wisehouse 2017, Sweden.

Entre Nous et Eux: contes de fées pour adultes, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-93-85945-77-9, © 2017, India.

Jisei: death poems and daily reflections by a person with AIDS”, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-403-2, © 2013, India.

The tunnel at the end of time” (co-written with Rick Davis and Azsacra Zarathustra), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-160-4, © 2010, India.

Malerier og fotokunst, a short 38-page retrospective overview of some of Adam Donaldson Powell’s best known oil paintings and photographic art works”. Published by Cyberwit.net as a special limited and numbered full-color, soft cover edition (55 copies only), ISBN 978- 81-8253-154-3, India, © 2009.

GAYTUDE: a poetic journey around the world, co-authored together with Albert Russo 1[1], bilingual (French and English), gay poetry, 334 pages, Xlibris, ISBN 978-1-4363-6395-2, 2009, USA 6 [2].

2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel, 135 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-118-5, 2008, India.

Critical Essays, literary and photobook criticism by Adam Donaldson Powell and Dr. Santosh Kumar 2[3], 108 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-110-9, 2008, India.

Le Paradis (Paradise), 80 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-103-1, 2008, India. Inkluderer bilag med symboler fra Universelle Lysspråket, som opplevd av Laila Holand.

Rapture: endings of space and time (86 pages), Cyberwit,net, ISBN 978-81-8253-083-6, 2007, India.

Three-legged Waltz, (80 pages), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 81-8253-058-X, 2006, India.

Collected Poems and Stories, (175 pages), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 81-8253-028-8, 2005, India.

Arcana and other archetypes, (special limited edition – hardback collection of poetry), AIM Chapbooks ANS, 2001, Norway (now out-of-print).

Notes of a Madman, (hardback collection of poetry), Winston-Derek Publishers, Inc., 1987, ISBN 1-55523-054-7, USA (now out-of-print).

(Above photos of Adam taken in NYC when he was writing his first published book: “Notes of a Madman”)

 

CHECK IT OUT:

And here is a quick recap/overview of my published books. For more information, please see the next pages of this blog.

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MY AMAZON.COM AUTHOR PAGE: HERE!

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MY CYBERWIT.NET AUTHOR PAGE: HERE!

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“Death is creative, but not picky — she will claim us according to her time schedule and whims, regardless of cause of Death. Don’t obsess over Death. Live each moment as if it were your first and last.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

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My two latest published books:

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ADAM AS PAINTER:

“My ‘style’? I instinctively rebel against being conveniently labelled as ‘this, or that’; just as I rebel against the so-called ‘rules of painting’, or ‘rules of writing’ … or populistic black-and-white classifications such as ‘political correctness vs. incorrectness’ etc. Actually, it is the audacity of these concepts that annoys me. The need of others to classify me, my art, my writing … or anything, is surely an indication of their own egotism, insecurities, limitations and weaknesses. Alas, we live in a world of labels, ratings, and quality judgments based on popularity and price. The closest relevant generic style classifications of my own art might be perhaps ‘abstract’, ‘colour field’, ‘geometric’, ‘abstract expressionist’, ‘minimalist’ etc. But I always find my own ‘mix’ … with limitless variations. My art and writing are meant to be different and new; and pleasing, challenging and annoying — at the same time.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

“Lockdown — Summer fun”, oil on canvas, 55 x 46 cm., 2020, is perhaps self-explanatory. This painting is a continuation of my self-portrait series, in which I explore different ways of seeing and presenting myself — with various styles and painting techniques.
“Masquerade: COVID-19”, oil on canvas, 46 x 55 cm., 2020, is self-explanatory at first glance. However, here I have left certain features slightly unfinished: the naked eyes, the disintegrating painted frame, etc.; this to suggest vulnerability and a sense of incompletion. COVID-19 presents the unanswerable questions of how effective we really are at masking fear of the unknown, and which “me” peers out from behind the superficial protective covering. This painting is a continuation of my self-portrait series, in which I explore different ways of seeing and presenting myself — with various styles and painting techniques.

“The making of a Replicant: Human Pod Project — developing embryos”, oil on canvas, 65 x90 cm., 2019. This challenging work — both conceptually and technically — is a commentary on biotechnology and the future of human design and reproduction.

Of Replicants and Humans

#biotechnology #scienceinart
#replicants

“Summer Selfie”, oil on canvas, 50×50 cm., 2019. This intentionally “rough” speed painting — meant to mimic a quick selfie — was inspired by Van Gogh’s self-portraits of himself wearing a straw hat … and
by Picasso’s blue period paintings. I only used
two colors: blue and blue mixed with a bit of red.
“Forever blowing bubbles”, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm., 2019. Portrait is a subjective interpretation of Catherine (a.k.a. “Bubbles”).
“The Impossible Dream: impeaching and locking up ‘The Orange One’”,
65 x 90 cm., oil on canvas, 2019. Liberals, Democrats and even some Republicans and ex-Cabinet Members seem determined to fulfill their dream of capturing the sly POTUS in their cat-claws. But will they ever succeed in outsmarting the Donald?

 

“The XYZ-generations — in Troubled Times”

“X, Y and Z Generations … in Troubled Times”, is a series of three self-portraits, challenging the ways I see myself and the ways I wish others to see/experience me. Today’s challenges are many, and the successive generations barely have time for needed self-reflection in the face of the daily, fast-changing technological, climate and other challenges. In this painting I invite the viewer to face himself/herself in this world where faces and Art are often just another image.

I personally experience this painting as scary and uncomfortable. What I mean by saying that the painting is “scary” is that it confirms the dilemma that I face in today’s crazy World — an “unfinished symphony” that is essentially never to be totally understood.

There were never to be any figures totally painted because the pictures represent people/humanity/me in development and unraveling. The pic of me all dressed up in a fur coat is the “show guy” presenting himself to The World … (x-generation). The y-generation me with the green face is the creative and thinking me — absorbed in my own thoughts and ideas, but battling against those imposed upon me by living in The World. And the z-generation is me blocking out and hiding from The World, the mental bombardments of images, coined phrases, propaganda, advertisements, and the glaring and oppressive heatwaves and sunlight etc. That image is in the largest state of disintegration, the skin coloring depicting a body that is almost lifeless and the head partially covered by a veil of mourning. Of course, all of the images are (as is the Internet, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, mainstream media and alternative media) manipulations — leaving out ears (i.e. really hearing and listening) and other details in order “to guide” the viewer into focusing upon the sunglasses, clothing and accessories (headlines) instead of seeing the person (content) inside … and we are consequently in a continuous struggle for self-marketing and esteem vs. incompletion and dissatisfaction with systems of ethics and values that both constrain and embrace us.

The painting is “The Scream” that was never really expressed outwardly. And the minimalistic pastel-colored background is the general environment of denial — “everything is normal” — that acts as a sedative, more than inspiration.

NB. See Urban Dictionary for definitions of Generations X Y and Z.

Vanishing Act, oil on canvas, 46 x 55 cm., 2020.

VANISHING ACT.

«Vanishing Act», 46 x 55 cm., oil on canvas, 2020, is a raw self-portrait about being careful what we wish for. While many would wish for the rapid disappearance of the CoronaVirus (COVID-19), it would presently seem more plausible that such reference be most applicable to the Fade-Out Star (R Coronae Borealis). In the upper left corner one can barely make out a vanishing star, consumed by the Darkness of Uncertainty — truly Hell in its most natural form. The raw background hints of that in many well-known paintings by Old Masters, but here there is a messy disharmony that is threatening to consume the figure in the painting and the viewer — like an unavoidable train wreck … in slow motion. There are many important lessons yet to be learned from the COVID-19 experience. It is karmic, and in that understanding lies a solace that enables us to adapt to both life during struggle … and to the inevitability of Death. The figure — itself already vanishing behind protective gear — is waist-deep in the mire, but is yet optimistic — if not aloof to the dangers of chance and folly. The true challenge is perhaps not how quickly or how completely we can return to normality, but whether the former normality is actually the problem itself.

 

« Fluorescent Buddha », 65 x 90 cm., oil on canvas. This painting is designed for meditation on peace and healing.

“Rothko gone rogue”, oil on canvas, 65x90cm., 2019 is another of my explorations of the exciting, and over-copied, Rothko-style — here limiting myself to usage of the three primary colors (red, blue and yellow) together with scratching in order to finds new approaches to the study at hand. It is easy to think that the prolific and obsessed Rothko executed absolutely every possible color combination and variation on his main themes. But did he, actually? By the way, don’t miss the two figures rowing in the boat in the blue section of this colorfield painting. The scratching blue waves which overflow across the red background are then perhaps perfectly understandable.
“Burbujas — Fiesta en Málaga”, oil on canvas, 65×90 cm., 2019. This crazy work attempts to unite my passions for colorfield exploration and abstract geometric expressionism. There were many technical challenges involved as well as brush technical acrobatics. I always say that I will never again subject myself to paintings circles but I cannot resist the challenge … or the magic of the Circle.
Winds of Hell, 65 x 90 cm., oil on canvas.

“Les vents de l’Enfer”, 65 x 90 cm., Huile sur toile; basé sur les six faces par lesquelles nous percevons la mort —
La mort en tant qu’ennemi,
La mort en tant qu’étranger,
La mort en tant qu’ami,
La mort en tant que mère,
La mort en tant que voleur et
La mort en tant qu’amant.

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Writing about Death is not foreign to me, but I have only approached the theme once before in my paintings. Thus, I have made a new painting about Death (which for we who survive others becomes a personal Hell for a time). And regardless of how we see Death, the Hell of loss is still there gnawing away at us … underneath the masks we put on to shield ourselves and others in our grief.

💀💀💀💀💀💀

Here is my previous painting about Death:

Soul evacuation, oil on canvas, 100x150x8 cm.
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“In the thicket”, 40×50 cm., Adam Donaldson Powell, 2019: This painting is another oil painting with a “watercolour effect”, attempting to counteract the solidity of classical landscape paintings with an abstract lightness using various brush techniques and colour combinations to allow the focus of the viewer to simply allow oneself to “walk right into the background and become enveloped by it”. There is no central or overbearing motive … just the experience of being here now. #Naturalistic colourfield
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Reflection: “Some misunderstand me when I emphatically rebel against categorization and pigeon-holing, and against being expected to paint and write in the same styles and genres forever … or to slavishly follow ‘the rules of writing, or painting.’ What I intend to communicate is the constant importance of being original and new-thinking. However, knowledge of historically significant styles, techniques and art movements is fairly (in today’s art world) vital to knowing what innovations one wishes to explore … and why. You do not need to ‘master’ old styles and techniques in order to paint or write in your own new style, but understanding of them technically and in social/art historical contexts will make your new works much more dynamic and powerful. Art involves constant decision-making — and in order to make decisions we need to have some rudimentary understanding of art history in technical and social contexts. This includes creating ‘art’ from accidents.” — Adam Donaldson Powell
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“Toltec Archetype”, 65×90 cm., oil on canvas, is an exploration of the shamanic/primitive roots of Jackson Pollock’s “Dripping/action painting”. The painting is both “in your face” and subdued by the jungle green splattering which — although hiding the image through the forgetfulness of Time — is not quite powerful enough to prevent the haunting Spirit of the archetype from invading our Consciousness.
“Tribute to Mars: The Great Source and Center”, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm.

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La mia svizzera.
«La mia Svizzera», 65×90 cm., oil on canvas, 2018. This abstract geometric painting is based on my travels around Switzerland in 2018 — visiting lakes, mountains, cities and countryside.

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I am accomplished and recognized in many areas, including art, literature, performing arts and activism. My life as an activist: my activism began when I was a teenager in USA — as a strong opponent to the war in Vietnam and a conscientious objector to the draft. I was even thrown out of the courtroom of Judge Julius Hoffman (of the Chicago Seven case fame) for misbehavior.
Since then I have engaged myself in the rights of several social groups including the homeless, gays, artists, immigrants and persons with AIDS. I have represented Norway internationally and at the UN in NYC, I have debated with several government ministers in Norway on tv, radio, newspapers, delivered public speeches, and started organizations to preserve and secure the rights of artists and of unemployed immigrants. While I am now retired from activism, I am proud of my almost fifty years of public service as an activist — complemented by my literary and artistic works in support of these issues. I started and ran the organization Artists in Motion (for artists of all artistic disciplines in Norway) and the Norwegian World AIDS Day Art Exhibitions, among other initiatives. I have made notable and documented contributions in Norway and internationally through debates and speeches, music (I studied piano under several renowned concert pianists in NYC), theater and dance stage performances, art exhibitions, publications, literary engagements on four continents, and more. You will no longer find me on Facebook, Twitter, English Wikipedia (Norwegian Wikipedia, yes) etc. I have pulled out of several accounts on all (and also two previous Instagram profiles) despite having maximum « friends/followers ». I prefer space to be myself, and to set my own artistic, literary and socio-political agendas. I market my ideas more than my art and my literature. My art and my literature are representations of my philosophies, my ideas and my politics about Life, the world, art and literature. My art is found in several countries, and my fourteen published books (in all major genres) are written in several languages and published on three continents.

«Le regard … dedans / dehors», 65×90 cm., oil on canvas. Study of integrating several abstract disciplines and techniques, including underpainting, hard edge vs. free hand, figurative plus geometric, Picasso’s earth colours etc., model: Richard Mathews (NYC). «Le regard … dedans / dehors» is about how we see ourselves vs. how we think the world does (and how we want the world to) see us. The scaly/primal-reptilian background is reversible — serving both as a covering as well as revealing our inside moving texture. When I suggest that the reptile scales are reversible I am talking about the dual functions of the skin as a protective facade which enables us to find protection but blending into our environment AND serving as a tight “diving suit” which makes our explorations easier. I find the exercise of changing skin colour and ethnicity of the paintings featuring my models to be liberating — an artistic commentary on the universality of Man. My triptych on Robert Mapplethorpe taught me this. I realized that the color scheme for this painting had to be with Picasso earth colors (from his beginning Cubist period – similar to the work of Braque). All other colors would potentially draw away from the balance which allows the portrait to remain a main focus and still tell the story of “the process” of being oneself in personal and social environments which are constantly changing and challenging us. It has to be both finite and also a blurred portrait image in a blurred background, giving a “near-sightedness ” feeling — at the same time; because that is how we experience ourselves and our surroundings, and are experienced by others. The geometric areas all have bright colors as underpainting so that the black and grey forms are not flat and lifeless, even though intentionally two-dimensional. The illusion of depth comes from the layering of forms — both underneath and over one another. This was an interesting challenge for me. I even forced myself to allow a few graphite sketch lines to remain unpainted — something I have always wanted to try.

 

 

 

“Model”: Tor (in memoriam).

“Visit from a dead lover”, 50×50 cm., oil on canvas, is an abstract expressionist portrait of my deceased life partner. It captures in general, however, the pictorial and other-worldly essence of such visits from the departed, as both the living and the no-longer alive peer through the veils of energy, space and time to re-connect for a few precious minutes.

ARTIST’S/AUTHOR’S COMMENTS:

« What is the importance of attention to background in painting? Ha! The concept of background as a separate entity is an illusion — even in minimalistic art it is both an important protagonist on the stage, as well as the cast of supporting actors. Context Baby … context defines the entire painting. »
— Adam Donaldson Powell

ADAM DONALDSON POWELL (Norway) is a multilingual author, literary critic, and art photography critic; and a professional visual artist. My ‘style’? I react to being conveniently labelled as ‘this, or that’ as vehemently as I rebel against the so-called ‘rules of painting’, or ‘rules of writing’ … or ‘political correctness’ etc. Actually, it is the audacity of these concepts that annoys me. The need for others to classify me, my art, my writing … or anything, is surely an indication of their own egotism, insecurities, limitations and weaknesses. The closest relevant generic style classifications might be perhaps ‘abstract’, ‘colour field’, ‘geometric’, ‘abstract expressionist’, ‘minimalist’ etc. But I always find my own ‘mix’ … with limitless variations. My art and writing are meant to be different and new; and pleasing, challenging and annoying — at the same time. I have resided several places in the USA, as well as in Spain and (currently) in Norway. My art often addresses cultural, political, social and spiritual issues relevant to our day and age.

My aim is not necessarily to produce art that “is ornamental” but rather to challenge ideas, ideals, behaviour patterns etc. that often pass by uncommented. I am further interested in questioning the relationships between politics and art, social media and art and social dynamics in a globalised context which often prioritises (in my opinion) social media short cuts to celebrity-status, politically-correct trends, blatant artistic style copying, and lack of creativity as regards current and future relationships between artists, art galleries, art museums, street art and art on the internet. My perspective is that creativity is now a “human right and a vital resource”, and that the truest value in art today lies not in a long curriculum vitae or social media hype, but rather in the art that is freshly-/newly-produced and the contexts in which it is presented and marketed. The function of art today and in the near future is (again, in my opinion) directly related to the degree in which art inspires and encourages all persons to embrace creativity in their lives, rather than to create individual “icons”.


“Inspiration is for amateurs — the rest of us just show up and get to work.”

— Chuck Close

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Sitat: “Det er viktig å ha gode tekniske ferdigheter men kunst krever publikumstekke, publikumsvennlige ideer, budskap og evne til å bevege mennesker — enten til glede og inspirasjon eller forakt etc. God kunst formidler ut fra hjertet og tankene til kunstneren som beboer på planeten. Det tekniske blir ingen erstatning for dette.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

Quote: “It’s important to have good technical skills, but art requires crowd appeal, ideas of public/social interest, messages and the ability to move people – either to joy and inspiration or contempt etc. Good art conveys from the heart and mind of the artist as one who lives on the planet. Technical skills alone will not compensate for lack of this.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

“Wanted: for breaking the rules of Art and Writing!”, caricature/self-portrait, 65×90 cm., oil on canvas, 2018

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“Every new painting is like throwing myself into the water without knowing how to swim.”
— Edouard Manet

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“Like Vincent van Gogh, I am an impasto painter. My painting tools include brushes, knives, plastic, rags, sponges, credit cards, pieces of wood, leaves, fingers, hands, feet … basically, whatever it takes to create the effect, textures and spirit of the idea to be conveyed. I paint on everything I can find: canvas, paper, wooden boards, cardboard, cloth, styrofoam, rocks … It is both a passion and an addiction. Lots of dopamine in my brain, I guess.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

“Straight to Hell” — Mapplethorpe in triptych, oil on canvas, 2018.

MAPPLETHORPE IN TRIPTYCH.

I decided that it was best to depict Mapplethorpe in an expressionist style – and almost like a charcoal and chalk painting. This to depict the simplicity he has hidden behind in his public appearances, and in his art photography. The wisdom of that choice is apparent in the picture in the middle, which deals with his internal perceptions of himself, and where the spectator’s eye goes straight to the majestic Cala Lily – The flower of Death – which Mapplethorpe was so keen on. And the flower is so calm and majestic that the drama of the expressionist style is immediately reset in a single glance.

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Robert Mapplethorpe triptych – a work-in-progress. Keywords: Mapplethorpe, tabloid (lurid, sensational) art, guns as penises, penises as guns, splattered blood, blood stains, sex, AIDS, crosses, Calla lily (flower of Death), sado-masochism, fetish, narcissism, pecs and nipples, the body as a living sculpture, perfection vs. the glory of the imperfect, Don Herron’s iconic Tubshot photo. Each panel measures 40 x 50 cm.

NB. Yes, I address Mapplethorpe’s obsession with Black men and their bodies / genitals by featuring Mapplethorpe himself in mirror image — as both Caucasian and Negroid. In this way his desire to completely embody and define ultimate personification of sexuality will finally be complete.

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The iconic Don Herron Tubshots photo of Mapplethorpe was chosen as my model because I actually met Mapplethorpe at his loft when Don and I delivered the photograph to him. This triptych is my “tribute” to both Don Herron and Robert Mapplethorpe.

And here is Don’s portrait of me (in our bathtub in the East Village, NYC in 1978):

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Eclipse/craquelure, oil on canvas, 40×40 cm.
Fishing net embracing glowing bits of plastic, 40×40 cm, oil on canvas:
This abstract painting is about environmental problems related to pollution of the seas — both with waste such as plastic, but also with abandoned fishing nets. The colourful plastic attracts fishes, which consume it.
“Cracking up (Craquelure)”, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm.

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Aged stone (Oil on styrofoam).
Roses and a teardrop for Las Ramblas, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2017. This miniature abstract painting was inspired by the terror attack upon the people at Las Ramblas in Barcelona. It depicts a rose-floral wallpaper-like background with a line/queue that is broken — interrupted by a single teardrop.

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“Vertigo”, 50×50 cm., oil on canvas with “watercolour effect”.

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Toxique / Toxic
“Toxique / Toxic”, 40×40 cm., oil on canvas, is an abstract painting which uses colourfield and geometric styles to induce feelings of the “disgusting” which is beautiful. Here “the disgusting” is created by color combinations and the dizziness of the geometric images seemingly twirling about in atmospheric bile. The painting gives a sense of elegance in its overall balance and technical precision, while at the same time requiring quiet acceptance of discomfort.

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Nightfall – with Winter giving way to Spring, 50×50 cm., 2017.

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White night no. 1
“White night no. 1”, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm.
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Meteors in the night, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm.
Not seeing the forest for the trees.
Not seeing the forest for the trees, oil on canvas/mixed media, 60×50 cm.
Bokstavelig talt (literally speaking), oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm.

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Emptiness giving birth to Nothingness, oil on canvas, 100×80 cm.
“Being = Nothingness”, 40×40 cm., oil on canvas, 2017.
Ascension, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm.
Video game shooting gallery.
In an age when oil paintings have little chance of competing with the internet, television and video games, I decided to paint an abstract depiction of a video game shooting gallery against a concrete background — no penetration.

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Spleen.
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“Tears flowing while walking through the city”, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm.

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Sunset reflecting through Venetian blinds, onto wooden floor.

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Equilibrium, oil on canvas, 50×50 cm., 2016.

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Tale of three colour fields, oil on canvas, 81 x 100 cm., 2016.

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A Wrist-cutter's Glow.
A Wrist-cutter’s Glow, oil on canvas, 50×50 cm.

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«Sunrise in early Spring», oil on canvas, 65×90 cm., 2018.

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REGARDING MY INSPIRATION AND IDEAS …

“I see poetry everywhere. In fact, each and every one of my paintings is a poem or a story … with hints of a song, an opera, a dance, a theater performance.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

THE YOUNG MAN AND DEATH.

Redefining Cocteau’s interpretation of “The young man and death”:
My painting — entitled “The young man and death” – represents a violent and hazardous order; whitewashed mental chaos with the conviction of purification and with cutting knife marks of self-harm … and swirling depression with so many overwhelming rhythmic atonalites that the blue electricity of pulses and currents are stifled by a huge blanketing whiteness that gives a general impression of calm and control – as long as we follow each breath religiously. It is an atmosphere of violent beauty; the inner environment that cleanses and consumes all the perceptions of the outside world which drives us to the ultimate act of correction and glory: suicide. The whiteness of depression is the light at the end of the tunnel of death – promise of rebirth, new virginity and ultimate seduction. The thick slabs of paint represent the mud walls we erect to keep ourselves safe in our cocoons – in our fortress. Depression does not concern sadness, but rather the construction of our castle in heaven, where our indifference to success and failure can finally flourish. Nirvana. Here, death is not a woman, but the young man’s own psyche. The misogynistic vision of Cocteau will be whitewashed and exposed as a void that disguises itself as male self-victimization. Once the many layers of oil paint are completely dry, I will cover the minimalist painting with camouflage netting, this in order to force the viewer to want to look at the discomfort in the pictures. To look under the veil and then to identify oneself sufficiently in the Mind to be able to look for the veil of Emptiness that is under the veil. Of course, no one really wants to know about another person’s depression – especially if they are suicidal. We are all fighting the same depression and nothingness. It’s only a thought away. The result will be a two-dimensional sculpture painting.

Jean Maurice Eugene Clement Cocteau was very talented, very brave, very “gay”, very famous … and very misogynistic. Only the unfortunate or idiots would be stupid enough to try to make him angry.

“The young man and death In a workshop, a young man alone is waiting. In comes the girl who was the cause of his distress. He rushes towards her, she pushes him away, he begs her, she insults him, scoffs at him and tells him to go hang himself. He hangs himself. Only the body of the hanged man remains. Through the roofs, death then returns in a prom dress. She takes off her mask: it’s the girl. So she puts her mask on the face of her victim. Together, they go through the roofs.
— Jean Cocteau”

More than seventy years have passed since this work had its world premiere. And the idea still haunts me. The story is too thin … a cheap shot designed to shock. The cheating woman has the coldness of a man, and the desperate man (the cuckold) hang himself as the woman demands. The irony is that a number of men today commit suicide after their wife’s infidelity or divorce. But what else is behind this suicide? Surely there are problems of depression and relationship within man before this development? Was the woman really responsible for his death? Is the infidelity of another person really the cause of suicide – or is it just a symptom, the result of a long-standing illusion that can no longer be denied? Is not this another expression of misogyny in the age of Romanticism? And how can I recreate this story / painting – penetrating more into the young man’s psyche – far beyond this woman representing death, who can so easily be blamed?

It’s the same for both or all genders (there are more than two now). Because depression and suicide are taboo subjects, I want to force the public to commit to watching and walking inside the painting. These problems need to be normalized – like cancer and other syndromes and lifestyle diseases.

“It is important to understand and simply accept that all our past experiences, whether joyful or sad, continue to accompany us throughout our lives and greatly affect the way we feel today. Problems can only trigger feelings of insecurity, shame, envy or revenge if we deny that they are part of us. To be overwhelmed by such feelings in the most difficult situations requires us to recognize them and consciously integrate them as natural parts of our psyche. Only then will we be able to develop a loving acceptance of ourselves with all our flaws and shortcomings.” — from www. astro.com

As I always say, a lot of fiction is more factual than readers realize. Cocteau was very misogynistic and obsessed with wanting a son, and had great anger when the woman of his choice (Princess Natalie Paley) rejected him: he said that women were “the killers of poets’ children”, there had been many suicides in his life, and so on – all of which indicate his psychological problems at work in this story.

“Le jeune homme et la mort”, 65×90 cm., oil on canvas. This is my re-interpretation of Cocteau’s idea for the famous ballet. See my notes about this HERE!

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Democracy by gun (We the People), oil on canvas, 100×80 cm., 2016.
“Entre Nous et Eux”, oil on canvas, 90×65 cm. is about keeping a frozen smile and trying to remain “politically correct” in a Western world that is literally under “cultural attack” by the sheer numbers of refugees and immigrants, and further complicated by European countries’ relative naivité and unpreparedness for multiculturism. It is therefore that the background resembles the Norwegian, Czech, Russian, French, Dutch, British, US etc. flags with the red, white and blue colours … but which are are increasingly inundated with falling leaves which eventually become lively foreign objects, cultures, traditions, religions etc. — and all the while with more and more persons competing for celebrity, money, resources, ideologies and power etc. It symbolises an irreversible shift in cultural and social values and traditions, and the tensions churning and burning underneath. It is about the new “n-word” which is socially and legally forbidden to express in public forums. The penalty is being stamped as “a racist”, and prosecution.

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Letting go (of love), 40×40 cm., oil on canvas is about the process of trying to move on — without a loved one. The memories of that person become blurred, the pain is romanticised, the sense of betrayal and anger gradually becomes replaced by arrogant self-pity and then denial that love ever was (in fact) mutual. Solace and personal redemption are found written as graffiti on the wall — in the words of Jean-Paul Sartre: “We are condemned to be free” (here in Spanish: “Estamos condenados a ser libres”).

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faceless_animus
“Faceless animus” asks us how well we really know another person, and how much we really want to know — the stereotypical or racial countenance … or the faceless animus that lies behind it?

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“Talking heads / Social media”, 65 x 90 cm., oil on canvas, 2018, is all about “the buzz” (slander and gossip, #hatersgonnahate, #lookatme etc.) in black and white.

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Miniature series — This miniature oil painting series is comprised of 18 small paintings (15×15 cm and 20×20 cm), which have various contemporary themes, including fame and death, love gained and lost, climate change, moving on in Life, #metoo, terror, sex, emotional vampires, nuclear storm weather forecasts and more.
The paintings include: 1) “Endless Winter/Climate change”, 15×15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018;
2) “Spleen – love dissolving”, 20×20 cm., oil on canvas, 2018;
3) “Roses and a teardrop for Las Ramblas”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. This miniature abstract painting was inspired by the terror attack upon the people at Las Ramblas in Barcelona. It depicts a rose-floral wallpaper-like background with a line/queue that is broken — interrupted by a single teardrop;
4) “Trou de la gloire/Gaufres bleues; Oui, l’amour est bleu … et la véritable gloire est un trou dans un mur qui s’effrité, («Gloryhole/Blue waffles; Yes, love is blue … and real glory is a hole in a crumbling wall»)”, 15×15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018. I accidentally stumbled over photos of “blue waffles” on the Internet. They were so disgusting and glorious that I had to challenge myself to interpret the magnificent phenomenon;
5) “Ghosts no. 1 — Climate change sucks the life out of Spring”, 15×15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018;
6) “Ghosts no. 2 — Climate change sucks the life out of Spring”, 15×15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018;
7) “Love between vampires: Yeah, Baby — let’s tear off a piece! (L’amour entre les vampires: Viens m’enculer!)”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. Whether our needs for giving and receiving love bring out the vampire or the angel in us, it is all an expression of our evolving humanity;
8) “Niqab — of love and fetish in an age of terror”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. Keywords: niqab, AK47, roses, blood, hidden passion, discomforting eyes, risks, fetish, love, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018;
9) “Pissing on our parade”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. “Pissing on our parade”, is a commentary on gay violence — i.e. violence, murder and terror committed both by and against gays. LGBTQ-persons are “people”, and prone to the same problems and personality issues as all others in society. However, whenever an LGBTQ-person commits an act of terror (Orlando), sexual violence and harassment (by the way, these harassments are seldom investigated as #metoo, or even hate crimes), murder plus cannibalism, or other acts that feel like a violation of what many consider to be basic humane and civilised values, it feels as embarrassing to me as a gay person as muslims must feel when yet another act of hate-inspired terrorism is committed in the name of Islam. It is also embarrassing to me as a human and as a soul in active incarnation. These individuals — regardless of whether they are disturbed, or just hateful — are pissing on our parade. Keywords: pissing, parade, #stopthebleeding, wounded hearts, rainbow, #stopthehate;
10) “Silence.”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. “Silence.” is about the news and important information that we do not receive, or that is kept hidden from us by politicians, corporations, scientists and the mainstream media. It is also about what most of us are thinking but do not talk about due to social controls on thoughts, speech and actions. Silence should be a beautiful thing — a reprieve from the noise of everyday life and stress … but sometimes the silence is something to be feared. When we fear it, silence is the new noise;
11) “White Noise.”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. “White Noise” is about the constant chatter of mainstream media — spitting out and vomiting the same news stories ad nauseum; in all newspapers, radio and television stations, on the internet … all over the world, 24 hours a day. The noise keeps us company when we are alone and trying to escape the silence of loneliness … and we eventually neither listen to nor hear the warnings, worries and hatred broadcasted and echoed from high and low. The noise is our new silence;
12) and 13) “Broken Hallelujah in the Landscape of Life.”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. “Broken Hallelujah in the Landscape of Life” interprets the crevices, rips, tears and shattering we all experience, expected or not; i.e. those moments and periods where our hopes and dreams, infatuations, marriages, friendships, ways of perceiving the world and other people etc. fall apart, unravel and demand re-adjustment — with new vision. Although often quite painful, these adjustments provide us with opportunities to re-invent and re-define ourselves. The choice is ours: to suffer for an indeterminate period of time … or to climb down from the cross and explore “the new”, seeking balance — with a positive sense of moderation.“Ariston metron!” (“Moderation is best!);
14) “#metoo: Men’s room — the writing on the players’ wailing wall”, 15×15 cm, oil on canvas, 2018. This graffiti painting reveals the angry and dissatisfied murmurings of some men on social media and (as here) on a men’s room wall. It is generally considered to be politically incorrect for men to voice concern over matriarchal feminism and the #metoo movement, and the fear of loss of basic rights for men. When these voices are restricted to hidden enclaves and not allowed to be measured and discussed openly then the ensuing negative consequences can be devastating. The frustrated graffiti text includes: matriarchy; man-haters; Fuck #metoo; Fuck no sex; men prefer 1) whores, 2) men, 3) sex dolls; custody rights; lonely; feminazi; dutch treat etc.;
15) and 16) “Weather forecast — Warning, High Probability of Nuclear Storm; Part One: Alert” and Part Two: Perfect Storm”, 15 x 15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018. Perhaps the most immediate threat of annihilation of the planet and humanity is the threat of nuclear war and a serious nuclear accident. This work predicts a future where such threats becomes part of the weather and terror threat warning system. Colour code: yellow and black; the smoky grey background tells the rest of the story;
17) and 18) “Memento Mori — Fama (Starry Night)” and “Memento Mori — Damnatio Memoriae”, 15 x 15 cm., oil on canvas, 2018: These two simple, if not “pseudo-naïvistic”, paintings are about the naive personal quests for fame after death, i.e to live forever through our children’s or others’ minds — by way of recorded fame in this lifetime and myths; and the opposite and more likely reality: of being dead forever/being forgotten. In “Fama” the subtitle “Starry Night” functions as a Hollywood star reference as well as is a commentary about Vincent Van Gogh’s failure to achieve notoriety and artistic recognition before after his physical death. His own personal “starry night” is rather a quiet internal burning and ember-like glow — without spectacle. For artists, authors and musicians this notoriety is often established and maintained by way of representation, archives and mention in museum collections, published books, recordings, Wikipedia, the internet, history books etc. However, with ever-developing technology and increasing limited space in libraries and museums these hopes of living forever are being thwarted. For others who try to establish themselves as television hit show stars, as bloggers and as reality stars the goal is perhaps even more unattainable. We cannot take worldly acclaim with us to the afterlife, but to ensure that we still maintain a presence in this world after we leave it physically has been a dream of many for ages. The looming question is: “What is the purpose of Life and achieving notoriety — do we live for the ‘now’, or forever?” Another important question is “Should all art be made with the intention of it living forever; what is the value of temporary, performance and disposable art?” And of course, “Memento Mori — Damnatio Memoriae” reminds us that — should we fail to achieve lasting fame — we will not only remain “still dead” but we will disappear … forever, and without a trace, save possibly a short-lived grave and tombstone.
These paintings comprise a series of miniature abstract oil paintings that are about feigning indifference in a crazy and brutal world because there is simply so much that seems out of our control and we must often pretend to be indifferent in order to survive from day to day.

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“Love illusion”, 65×90 cm., oil on canvas. 

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ADAM AS PHOTOGRAPHER:

The London Police - z1

Jernbanetorget 4-z

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See my Oslo Street Art Documentation Photography (including documentation of works by The London Police, Galo, Shepard Fairey, Logan Hicks, D-Face, Will Barras, Faile, Martin Whatson and many unnamed graffiti artists) HERE!

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ART CRITICISM:

I have reviewed art and photography: art photography appearing in photography book publications, paintings in public exhibitions, and art photography collections made for / on the internet. Here are two examples of my photography criticism using an epistolary format:

LETTRES À UN PHOTOGRAPHE FRANÇAIS

LETTERS TO AN ITALIAN ART PHOTOGRAPHER

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Atlantis Ritual Bracelet, silver and gold, with symbols from the Universal Language of Light.
Lemuria Ritual Necklace, silver, gold and brass, with precious and semi- precious stones.
“TRANSFORMATION PENDANT”: design channeled by Adam Donaldson Powell, in silver and gold with aquamarine. Note the Eye of Horus and the Six-pointed Star (symbolizing that there are many ways to God/Enlightenment but that all are based upon Wisdom) and the “A”-tone as the mantra device.
Nepali Necklace, turquoise, lapis lazuli and silver.

SEE MY JEWELLERY DESIGN HERE!

ADAM’S ART IS IN SEVERAL PUBLIC AND PRIVATE COLLECTIONS (in Europe, USA and South America):

“The day after 9/11, oil on canvas” —
In the permanent collection of Rikshospitalet in Oslo.

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A FEW OF MY PREVIOUS PAINTING STYLES:

Y yo pienso aun en ti, oil on canvas, 100×100 cm.
Tainted dreams, oil on canvas, by Adam Donaldson Powell.
Beetlemania / Bugging out! (Oil on canvas, 30×30 cm x two paintings).
samfunnets forfall (decay of society)
The decay of society (Oil on canvas).
Galaxy
Galaxy (Oil on canvas).
autumnfoliage
Autumn foliage (Oil on canvas, 60 x 50 cm.)
homage to malevich
Tribute to Malevich (Oil on canvas).

crumpledpaper

“Crumpled paper, oil on canvas, 50×62 cm.”

Austin_oil_painting

“Austin, oil on canvas, 80×80 cm.»

Spring Snow

“Tribute to Yukio Mishima: Spring Snow”, oil on canvas, 50×50 cm.”

“Seascape I” (original of a series), oil on canvas, 120×120 cm.”

“Hope”, oil on canvas, 50×50 cm.

2700chess.com for more details and full list

Epic poetry by Adam Donaldson Powell, Part Four.” tu sais : je vais juste t’enculer …” (love letters).

FEATURING EXPLICIT CONTENTS.

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” tu sais : je vais juste t’enculer …”

( Cette œuvre est dédiée à toi, cher B. )

(New erotic gay poetry, in French, English, Spanish and Norwegian.)

Clouds over Oslo-1 (2)

ohhhhh,
my sexy french white boy!
my attraction to you
is much like the
movement of clouds:
often majestic and calm,
while sometimes making me
turbulent and lustful,
and at other times rather
playful and giddy.

Easter in Oslo, 2013.
Easter in Oslo, 2013.

j’ai attendu pendant quinze ans.
je n’ai pas été célibataire
et je n’ai pas été seul
ou solitaire.
mais j’ai attendu ce moment
pendant longtemps.

tout ce temps,
j’ai dîné sur rien de plus que
mes fantasmes et
les rêves —
de toi et moi.

et maintenant,
je suis affamé …

oui, affamé
comme un loup.

afterthebeach

so, explain it it to me
yet again —
what is the difference between
an infatuation,
an obsession,
a lover relationship,
and what we have now?
(yummm … those petit fours
are delectable! sorry … back.)
well, i see.
how about … how about
us being good and loyal friends
who fuck together like rabbits?!!
you see,
the other options sound, well —
messy,
freaky
and egotistical;

dontcha think?

the menu

dîner pour deux …
chez moi, bebe.
tenue de soirée
avec des sous-vêtements sexy.

image

i will be your perfect lover.
i will never say ‘i love you’ …
and i will never try to possess you.
but, all the same,
i will love you …
and i will co-own our
sacred moments together.
and, of course,
i will release you
when that is the
most loving thing to do.

i will be your perfect lover.
(i will …)

kewl2

tus labios …
tus labios.
me dan los sueños
de la mamada perfecta.
¡delicioso!
¡ay! ¡que rico!
¡que rico es!

Entre Nous

analingus.
squirming,
moaning,
gasping;
tongue darting
in and out,
like a cat
licking ice cream.
it tickles.
it pleases.
you scream.
you are ready;
here i cum.

kewl1

jeg kommer til å knulle deg …
du får bare holde på —
men jeg skal nok knulle deg.

 

 

it does not concern me …

it does not concern me
that you are getting fucked
in every possible orifice
here and there;
all over the world …

it does not concern me
that you may get body-searched
and groped in the airport control
when we next meet …

it does not concern me, because
i intend to do the same to you.
in fact, it may happen before
we even leave the airport.

it does not concern me
because …
i am just going to fuck you.

no matter what —
je vais juste t’enculer …

okay,
let’s be proper about it:

vous comprenez ?
pouvez-vous sentir la tension …
le sexe ?

how do you like it?

how do you like it?

magickalgarden16

there is only one tongue that excites me
more than your tongue …
yes, my own tongue licking,
slurping,
drooling
slime and spittle
all over your body.
like a predator of the night,
i will soon conquer you
and render your primary defences
quite useless.
you will beg me
to possess you.

kiss me, mother fucker.
KISS ME!

embrasse ma fleur …
maintenant !

magickalgarden15

monsieur b.

Est-ce que t’es prêt … ou pas ?

Le moment de vérité ? C’était maintenant.

Sur tes genoux !

Please step back, Sir!
This man is first in the queue;
but you will get serviced.
And don’t come while watching.
I have something else
planned for you.

( mendier … bave … sucer … frottez votre trou du cul qui gratte ! )

ouahhh !

oui !

oui …

ouah …

next?!!

Sorry Sir …
I must first take Monsieur B. again …
and again …
and again …

adamsketch

while i love rubber,
leather,
sadomasochism,
role-play,
water sports,
and much more …
i only have one
dominant fetish,
and only one
driving passion:
oui, c’est toi.

c’est toi.

(cum to me soon.
i have something for you.)

As-tu faim ?

qu’est-ce que tu veux que je fasse ?

Gnarls 'n berries.
Gnarls ‘n berries.

parfois,
je trébuche sur les sentiers battus.
et c’est dans ces moments-là que
je ressens un pincement de solitude.
le doux parfum d’abandon sexuel
est dans ces moments
surchargé d’une odeur.
oui, une odeur immonde
l’odeur de l’attachement …
l’échec de l’amour affectif
et le désir d’emprisonner ce désir.
dans nos fantasmes,
nous sommes toujours
forcés de porter des masques :
prophylactiques
pour nous protéger
à la fois des racines noueuses
qui sont toujours
prêtes à piéger
le vagabond maladroit
qui pense qu’il est amoureux
d’un autre.
dans ces moments-là,
qu’elle est longue la marche,
c’est l’enfer existentiel.
dans ces moments-là,
je rêve d’une chose :
me perdre dans
le confort de l’amour
sans visage,
sans obligation.
et dans ces rêves,
nous sommes vraiment libres …
libre d’aimer.

adamneon

voy a joderte;
y tu lo sabes muy bien.
(voy a joderte.)

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no … no poetry tonight.
no romance,
no candlelight,
and no lube.
no persian carpet
under your knees
and no condom.
shhhhh!!!
shut the fuck up
and look at me.
seduce me,
and worship me
with your eyes.
stop!
I did not give you
permission to fellate me.
not yet.
open your mouth and
receive my spit.
do your constraints hurt?
good! are you ready
for the second course?
it will be a warm meal …
a golden antipasto.
yes, I know what you want …
but it is teaching discipline
that truly turns me on.

now … show me those
hungry eyes and pouting lips.
open wide and gag …

you are beautiful.

you are mine — in this moment.

image

it usually starts
with the tongue …
kissing,
darting,
plunging,
ravishing …
deep.
deep inside
your man-cunt,
your flower,
your barricades.
it is just foreplay.
we both know
that my cock
will soon overwhelm
your man-pussy.

i like it when
you pretend to
have barriers
and scruples,
only to have them
whittled away
with each thrust
followed by a
multitude
of moans.

pretend to resist me!

the reward will be
that much greater.

 

 

je vais juste t’enculer …

there is no other way
out of this predicament.
the constant tumescence
is almost unmanageable.
everywhere I am,
everything I do –
I think about you …
and, well, you know what.

je vais juste t’enculer …

my biggest fear is that
my unyielding obsession
will become chronic,
and perhaps even terminal.
in the former case,
even having you as a live-in lover
would not be enough.
no, I need to feel your absence,
envision you from a distance
and hunt you down mercilessly …
again and again, forcing you
to submit to the inevitable.

je vais juste t’enculer …

I will stalk you even after death;
and we – two sultry glowing balls of light –
will dance a passionate bolero
with seductive pauses every now and then,
perhaps a bit of love-making and brazen flirting …
but, of course, most of all:
je vais juste t’enculer.

tu sais : je vais juste t’enculer …

kewl3


Bonjour !

I’ve got something for you,
and I think you will like it.
It is something that I have been
waiting almost an eternity to give you.
Something that is now threatening
to burst out of its packaging.
Guess what it is!
Go ahead:
shake the box,
knead the fabric,
smell it …
It is both big and small,
hard and soft.
And it comes with
several companion tools,
all designed to maximize
your curiosity and pleasure.

I’ve got something for you.

I’ve got something for you.

Snapshot_20130111

Bonjour, Monsieur (mon beau mec):

Si vous voulez me baiser,
vous devriez le faire.

Si vous voulez me sucer,
vous devriez le faire.

Si vous voulez m’enculer,
vous devriez le faire.

Et puis …
je vais vous emmener dans un voyage
que vous n’oublierez jamais.

Vous beurrez vos tartines des deux côtés ?

adamrubber

” sucez-moi, vite ! ”

“qu’avez-vous dit ? what did you just say?
surely I have misunderstood …

ohhh, I see …
yes, I understand …
I … ”

” tais-toi imbécile ! ”

” mmmmmmmm….”

kampen-toalett2

romance is cool,
but in its time and place.
right now I need you to
get it up.

get it up,
get it up,
get it up.

love in a sling is
not always lovemaking, but
sometimes a great fuck.

cruising-in-stenspaken-2

Er det noen poeng …

Hvorfor skrive om sex nå lenger?
Er det noen poeng?

Hvorfor se på porno, kinofilmer, tv eller reklamefilmer nå lenger?
Er det noen poeng?

Hvorfor kle seg ut på utfordrende måter lenger?
Er det noen poeng?

Joda, en gang i blant kommer man inn i “sonen” …
Og da — akkurat da — blir det et stort poeng.

adamtwitter1

coño … maricon …
which expletive deleted
turns you on the most?

tell me …
I need to know.

I will taunt you with it
until you shut me up,
and relinquish your unbridled
sex upon me — uncontrollably.

I am not really a “nasty pig” …
I am just a little naughty;
and perhaps very horny
… for you …
right here, and now.


¡hazlo, maricon! ¡hazlo bien!

urban flora uf023

Mon beau mec:

Je veux vous rendre enceint.
Je sais que c’est impossible,
mais quel plaisir d’essayer …
encore et encore.

image

Monsieur,

Je ne peux vous promettre
que je serai capable
de garder mes mains, ma bouche
ni aucun membre,
ni le reste de mon corps
hors de votre portée –
quand nous nous rencontrerons
enfin à nouveau …
après toutes ces années;
après ces années de rêve,
où j’ai revécu, fantasmé
des moments qui auraient pu être …
Nous n’avons jamais vraiment été seuls
l’un envers l’autre, sauf dans
ces rêves et ces fantasmes.
Je vous ai fait mien tant de fois;
dans la perfection et l’imperfection.
Je ne peux éteindre le feu, l’attraction,
la fascination de la séduction, en dépit de
la fatalité que cela ne puisse être.
Je n’ai cure que vous ayez une relation
avec quelque autre partenaire,
épouse, mari, cocu … que ce soit.
Je sais que mon inextinguible, inassouvie,
passion pour l’aventure d’un moment ensemble
avec vous, peut être un moment éternel,
sans commencement ni fin.
Il y a tellement de choses à dire,
tant de façons de faire l’amour,
tant de silence partagé, à savourer …
et mes roses affamées de soleil
cette envie d’être fécondé par votre sperme.
Je brûle de redécouvrir le lagon bleu
voguant sur ma lente chaloupe,
pénétrant votre grotte majestueuse
avec cette fougue, cette envie irrésisitible
qui est pure poésie de la chair.

Vous savez bien à qui j’adresse cette supplique.

A vous, bien entendu …

(English version)

You know who I am writing to, Sir …
Yeah – to you.

I cannot promise you
that I will be capable
of keeping my hands, mouth
and other limbs and appendages
off of you – when we finally again meet …
after all of these years;
after years of dreaming, reliving and exaggerating
moments that could have been …
in other circumstances.
We have never really been alone
unto ourselves, except in my
dreams and fantasies.
I have had you so many times;
in perfection and imperfect perfection.
I cannot extinguish the fire, the attraction,
the fascination of seduction in spite of
the possible fatality of ultimate attainment.
I no longer care if you have a relationship
with another partner, wife, husband, cuckold …
I only know my ever-burning – yet unfulfilled —
passion for a moment’s adventure together
with you; perhaps an eternal moment,
without beginning or ending.
There is so much to talk about, so many
ways to make love, so much shared silence
to savor … and my sun-hungry roses
crave fertilization by your semen.
And I – I hope to rediscover the blue lagoon
in my quiet rowboat, penetrating your
majestic grottos with the utmost painterly
and poetic indiscretion.

You know who I am writing to …
Yeah – to you.

pecs2

Du må ikke ta feil …
Jeg trener ikke på grunn av narsisisstiske årsaker.
Mine store brystmuskler er ingen
penisforlengelse.
De er puter –
et trygt sted for deg å hvile,
en gang i blant;
inni mellom kyss,
knulling og
brystvorte-tygging.
Kos deg kjære.
Kos deg …

(English version)

Do not be mistaken …
I do not exercise for narcissistic reasons.
My large chest muscles are no
penis extension.
They are pillows –
a safe place for you to rest,
once in a while;
in between kisses,
fucking and
nipple-chewing.
Enjoy yourself, my dear.
Enjoy …

adam002

¡Fuerza!
El amor.
¡Fuerza!
El sexo.
¡Fuerza!
Las mentiras.
Y tal vez te encuentre
en mis sueños errantes.

(French version)

Vive
l’amour !
Vive
le sexe !
Vive
le mensonge !
Peut-être t’ai-je rencontré
dans l’errance de mes rêves.

adam ninja

ciel couvert, couleur crème
épais comme le yaourt,
qui me rappelle
toi … et moi …
et aussi …
tu sais quoi …

(English version)

creamy overcast skies,
thick as yoghurt,
remind me of
you … and me …
and …
well, you know …

So sweet
are your suggested promises.
My stranger.
My unobtainable
moment of passion.
You coax me;
you cast me aside.
We can only have each other
in our leap-frog dreams:
both out-of-sync and yet
totally — oh so totally …
in syncopation.
The relentless fantasy is more
than the sum of reality’s
individual parts.
I see you everywhere;
in the gait of strangers …
in my memories.
Beginning from the
waist down …
easing toward the toes
and then quickly
darting upwards
to a fleeting and
indiscriminate
photographic flash
of your insignificant face.
My stranger.
My passion.
My stranger …
So sweet.

(French version)

Si douces
sont tes promesses suggérées.
Mon étranger.
Mon inaccessible
moment de passion.
Tu me cajoles ;
tu me rejettes.
Nous ne pouvons
nous posséder
que dans des rêves fugitifs :
tous deux si différents
si totalement autres
et pourtant …
si merveilleusement
en harmonie.
L’implacable fantasme
est plus que la somme
des parts de réalité.
Je te vois partout ;
dans les pas des étrangers …
dans mes souvenirs.
Glissant depuis la taille,
lentement, jusqu’aux orteils
puis, avec la violence d’un éclair
l’on remonte, tout en haut,
pour ensuite
découvrir ton visage
insignifiant.
Mon étranger.
Ma passion.
Mon étranger …
Si doux.

 

i hear it all the time:
‘how much do you bench? …
what is your IQ? …
what is your annual salary? …
how many celebrities have you known in your lifetime? …
how many books have you published? …
are you really “bi”, or a half-closeted faggot? …
how big is your dick? …’

enough bullshit already!
let’s wrestle it down …
winner takes it all.

simply put:
you lose … you get fucked.

Snapshot_20130111_2

Insinuations lubriques murmurées
dans l’espace enfumé des bars
qui excitent les gonades
et font croire à des promesses
mots doux et traîtres à la fois.
Les effluves de corps en sueur
se mêlent aux parfums
des Grands Magasins
comme l’eau et l’huile,
le cuir et la soie –
éléments hétéroclites,
qui s’attirent cependant
comme par magnétisme.
Eh oui …
j’aime cette manière que tu as
de mentir en prenant des poses,
en attachant mes poignets et mon sexe ;
en me forçant à m’agenouiller ;
exigence d’une totale soumission.
Dans cet air étouffant, nous entamons
le ballet sensuel des flirts anonymes,
tu détournes ton regard ;
je plonge le mien dans mon cocktail,
tu commences alors à scruter,
lentement, mon torse et ma taille.
J’acquiesce en souriant, et toi
tu t’éloignes, car j’ai enfreint
les règles du jeu,
trop pressé de remplacer
mes fantasmes par la réalité,
invitant par là le danger.
Tu me regardes mais feins l’indifférence
et je m’en vais avec quelqu’un d’autre
deux heures plus tard.
Moi, épuisé,
la tête fourmillant d’images lubriques,
j’investis, écoeuré et rageur,
les entrailles d’un quidam.

adam-in-tub

Je veux un amant, un vrai …
et je le veux maintenant.
Comme Arthur Rimbaud … ou Jean Genet.
Non pas comme ces mauviettes
qui ont parsemé ma jeunesse :
l’oncle qui m’avait convaincu que j’étais
une ‘tapette’, un ‘gogo bizarre’,
avant que je n’apprenne
ce qu’était la baise ;
et cet enfoiré qui m’a violé
dans la maison de sa mère — m’obligeant
à tenir ma langue de peur qu’elle ne se réveille
et appelle la police … pour me coffrer, ou pire.
Ou bien encore cette ‘folle’ sadomaso qui
possédait tout un attirail de jouets sexuels
et de godes en caoutchouc,
mais qui se fâcha lorsque je me mis à rire
parce qu’elle ne pouvait plus bander … normalement.
Je veux un amant, un vrai ;
qui puisse me sucer et m’enculer
et me prendre comme un ‘homme’.
Je veux un amant, un vrai … qui soit
tout ce qu’il dit être ; et qui s’en ficherait
que l’on apprenne qu’il aime un autre homme.
Je veux un amant, un vrai …
Comme Arthur Rimbaud … ou Jean Genet.
Et je le veux maintenant.

 

Las reglas más importantes
Con respecto a la vida
Nos fueron reveladas unos momentos
Antes del amanecer en
Una de las grandes avenidas
Que siempre están en discordia
Con la logica de las cosas útiles:
El vino joven ..
El sexo promiscuo ..
Las compras compulsivas
Y quizás .. el ir a la iglesia
En un día de trabajo.
Nos reconocemos en los
Sueños vivos capturados en
Las pinturas de Goya y El Bosco.

Y allí, bailamos nuestro último tango;
Lenta ..
Y religiosamente ….
Y huimos de la memoria exacta
A la sombra de nuestras
Últimas
Indiscreciones.

 

our dance is ritual;
a senseless obsession
between two moths
playing with fire.
no chains, no whips.
just bondage … and the
ever-sweet consequence of
a sabre’s cutting edge.

(French version)

notre danse est un rituel ;
une obsession insensée
entre deux papillons de nuit
jouant avec le feu.
ni chaînes, ni fouet.
juste une attache …
et les douces conséquences
de la lame tranchante d’un sabre.

vigeland statue

the man of my dreams:
sweaty, reeking of hormones,
sex-adventurous.

Summer heat

yeah …
i do have a soft side;
quiet moments
where i do not need
to get lost in your eyes
or your man-cunt …
prolonged seconds
where neither of us
needs to speak,
or choose intelligent
comments or
witticisms …
or struggle with
English or French
grammar and vocabulary.

yeah …
i do like to cuddle
sometimes …
or just hold hands
as we stare off
at the fjord, the sea,
the city street grid,
or into the woods.
those moments
are precious.
at those times
we live freely,
without promise
of commitment
to anything more
than that particular
moment itself.

yeah …

just — yeah …

terrace3

désir.
nous qui enfreignons les limites
de la vie, de la santé
devons embrasser l’amour
et la passion
avec un esprit … révolutionnaire.

Luscious and sexy, No. 1

C’est bizarre !
This sudden
proclamation of lust —
quite out of nowhere.

C’est bizarre !
Pour moi aussi.

C’est bizarre !
But I am enjoying the ride …
sans jugement ou crainte.

C’est bizarre !
et si délicieux !

lookingouttosea

ahhhh !
la sensibilité française …
it’s not so very different from mine.
passion is but a game of chess —
of seduction, deceit and conquest.

i chase you until you conquer me!
ahhhh !

oui — ahhhh !

image

summer infatuations
are much like
roller-coaster rides:
up and down,
back and forth,
hot and cold,
with, perhaps,
butterfly kisses
hoping to become
baboonish rapes …
but most of all,
i cherish
our moments apart.
it is then that
my dreams
become
unceasing fantasies
and obsessions;
colliding
with dripping sweat
and anticipation.

image

i am zoning out …
your incessant,
nervous babbling
is making
my eyes glaze over.
i just want to
slap you,
then shake you
and say:
“shut up, and
kiss me — Fool!”
but i merely
fake a smile
and feign interest
in your idle jabbering …
while fingering
my package
from inside my
pants pocket.

image

i am allergic
to all your perfumes,
except the natural one
you keep attempting
to cover up.
i love it when
you start to
break out
into a sweat.
your hormones
scent the jungle
for miles around.
and i feverishly
swing from tree to tree,
in hot pursuit.

marina1

relax, my secret sex partner.
i have not crossed the line …
i have not fallen in love with you.
please, do not be so vain
as to mistake my passion
and my fantasies about you
to be anything other than
a nagging and insatiable
craving for the unachievable.
of course,
i know that you are
nothing like how i
have created you to be
in my mind.
and thus, my body —
ever blind to reality —
quite consciously
exploits loving rawness
with the perfect shadow
that precedes you the most:
like when you throw me
a quick glance when you
think i am not looking,
or when you nervously
laugh when i give
you a compliment that
we both know is exaggerated
and calculated to throw
you off your guard.
i make love to you often
in our shadows, but our
everyday parlance
consists largely of
strained flirtations
and rather wet dreams.
truly, it could never be
more perfect than this.

clouds-over-oslo-7

do not promise to
be with me forever.
and do not tell me that
our love will last an eternity.
rather, meet me fully —
in this moment —
and dance with me …
dance with me.

magickalgarden7

my arabian lover was “hot to trot”.
his alleged wife and kids
were no hindrance to our passion,
and neither was the fact that
he came from an affluent saudi family.
but religion dictated
that he must keep his eyes closed
while performing fellatio,
as seeing another man’s genitals
is considered “impure”.

go figure …

toalett på kampen nr. 2-2

so —
you thought you got my goat
when you and your cronies
shouted ‘sale pédé’ when
i looked in your direction
the day before yesterday?
ha! well —
i am not only a ‘sale pédé’,
but also a ‘nasty pig’ …
that’s right —
trash — looking for trash.
i picked up your scent
and you acknowledged mine.
our ‘gaydar’ works perfectly …
don’t you think?!!
now —
about the next time we meet:
leave your cheerleaders behind,
and be ready to assume the position.

my name?
‘ master’ or ‘sir’ will suffice …

 

and …
i am almost immune to your
whimpering and squealing.
it is background music …

and …
i continue to fuck you
quite hard —
all the while, rather oblivious
to your screams, contortions and gasps.
when your hysteria reaches a certain point
i stuff my jock strap into your mouth and
intensify my pillage of your quivering asshole.

and …
you beg for more, and more.
deeper, and harder.
at that moment,
i know that i am in love …
at least in this very instant.

and …
as your barricades tighten
one last time
before final surrender
i join in with
a haunting orgasmic
scream of my own.

then, shortly …
there is no more ‘and’;
only silence,
sweat,
and sperm —
everywhere.

cocktails

today,
i want to ply you with
chilled chardonnay,
norwegian strawberries,
melon with prosciutto,
chèvre,
blue cheese on crackers,
swiss chocolates, and
chartreuse.
i won’t have any myself.
i am content to watch you eat,
and listen to your small talk.
but most of all,
i will savour the drunkenness
i experience drowning in
your eyes, and in the overstuffed
pillows of your perfect lips.
though your lips beg to be
ravaged and violated,
in such moments as these,
a work of art
which is that exquisite
should only be admired
from a short distance.

rose

chut !
ne parlez pas.
Écoutez les sons
de nos orgasmes –
qui se dissipent.

quiet !
ne bougez pas.
Sentez-vous les flots
de sueur
sur nos corps ?

quelle magie !
quel délice !
Et maintenant,
peut-on se parler
franchement ?

s’il te plaît,
ne m’abandonne pas.
Embrasse-moi.
Et nous prolongeons ce moment …
à l’infini.