my prized possessions
are those things i do not own:
trees, rocks, poetry.
existence is an
expression of fragmented
timelessness; a poem.
PÅ SOPPTUR I KONGERIKET
Barbeint tripper jeg gjennom skogens kongerike
Uten antydning til verken forståelse eller fare.
Jeg er på oppdagelsesreise, og jakter etter soppens
Gjemte hemmeligheter som et naivt barn i spøkelsesalder.
Nå og da blir min skjønnhetssøvn forstyrret av naturens
Stillhet, som fremkaller ubevissthetens ristende og
Fortryllende bilder fra steder uten tidsrom eller navn.
Bak en dinosaurusalders bregne, og ut fra under en
Mosedekket stein, titter den vakreste sopp jeg
Noen gang har sett, med en svær rød flate spekket med gul.
Jeg strekker armen min mot det skattete funn og
Stopper opp akkurat når jeg er i ferd med å ta på den.
Steinen har begynt å stråle smaragd lys, først med
Den rolige anspennelse til rødglødende kull, og siden
Som den overveldende illuminasjon av Guds evig kjærlighet
Og barmhjertighet, gjenspeilet i trillionvis av smil.
I det øyeblikket reiser jeg ut av kroppen, og chakraene mine
Stiller opp i en perfekt linje mens jeg ser på meg selv
Og summen av menneskelig eksistens fra langt ovenfra.
Og i den fullkomne harmonium gjenopplever jeg livet som
I de himmelske periodene mellom jordiske inkarnasjoner,
Og alle mine daglige bekymringer og hemninger virker like
Drømaktige og ubetydelige som en midtsommers dagdrøm.
Jeg returnerer aldri helt tilbake til bevisstheten som kjent
Fra før, men beholder en liten del av den utstrålingen som
Har nylig preget mitt hjerte på en så vidunderlig måte.
I ryggsekken bærer jeg hjem ingen sopp, men trolig den
Mest ettertraktete skatt fra skogens kongerike: javisst,
En alminnelig stein — som souvenir fra livets drømmereise.
MUSHROOMPICKING IN THE KINGDOM.
Barefoot, I stumble through
the forest of the kingdom
without a hint of
I am on a treasure hunt,
and looking for the mushroom’s
hidden secrets — much
as a naive child
in the age of fantasy.
Every now and then my
beauty sleep is
disturbed by nature’s stillness,
which brings forth the
agitating and enchanting
images from places without
time or name.
Behind a fern from
the era of dinosaurs, and out from
under a moss-covered rock,
peers the most beautiful mushroom I
have ever seen,
with a broad red surface
speckled with gold.
I extend my arm
toward the precious find
and pause just
as I am about
to touch it.
The rock has begun to glow
like an emerald:
first with the quiet
red hot coal, and
then with the overwhelming
light of God’s eternal love
mirrored in a trillion smiles.
At that instant I rise
out of my body, and
my chakras line up
I look down at myself and
the totality of
human existence from
And in the perfect harmony
I re-experience life
as in the heavenly periods
in between earthly incarnations,
and all of my daily worries
and obstacles seem just as
dreamlike and insignificant
as a midsummer’s daydream.
I never fully return back
to the consciousness that
I once knew,
but retain a small
portion of the glow that
has now touched my heart
in such a wonderful way.
In my backpack I carry home
not a single mushroom, but truly the
most sought after treasure from
the forest of the kingdom:
certainly, a simple rock –
as a souvenir from
life’s journey of dreams.
(all poems and oil paintings by Adam Donaldson Powell)
COVID-19 has been quite the challenge for most of us. The idea of sacrificing the illusion of freedom in order to secure survival has been difficult for many in the Western hemisphere to accept for more than a few months at a time. Our forefathers have accepted such in times of war, but we have difficulties accepting that we are “at war” with The Virus — and that it is a result of “our own doing/undoing”. Here, I have chronicled some of my own perceptions, feelings and experiences during the 2020 COVID-19 challenge:
“Eternal Sleep — Mors Vincit Omnia”, 80 x 60 cm., oil on canvas, 2021.
One of the largest challenges for an artist is possibly that of deciding / daring to envision and portray oneself as dead. While Death itself is a fascinating theme for many artists, the psychological and superstitious reasons for not painting oneself as deceased keeps many artists in lockdown as regards trespassing and overcoming this mental and emotional hurdle. On ne peut pas vivre sa vie en ayant peur de la mort. Mais soyez assuré que la mort l’emporte sur tout, y compris la peur. You cannot live your life being afraid of death. But rest assured that death wins out over everything, including fear.
Choosing a COVID-19 Vaccine — the Three Prisoners Problem”, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm., 2021.
From 1957 to 1980, Martin Gardner had a monthly column in Scientific American magazine where presented mathematical games. One of these games was the Three Prisoners Problem. Here is the problem explained in Wikipedia:
“Three prisoners, A, B, and C, are in separate cells and sentenced to death. The governor has selected one of them at random to be pardoned. The warden knows which one is pardoned, but is not allowed to tell. Prisoner A begs the warden to let him know the identity of one of the two who are going to be executed.
“If B is to be pardoned, give me C’s name. If C is to be pardoned, give me B’s name. And if I’m to be pardoned, secretly flip a coin to decide whether to name B or C.
“The warden tells A that B is to be executed. Prisoner A is pleased because he believes that his probability of surviving has gone up from 1/3 to 1/2, as it is now between him and C. Prisoner A secretly tells C the news, who reasons that A’s chance of being pardoned is unchanged at 1/3, but he is pleased because his own chance has gone up to 2/3. Which prisoner is correct?”
In this 24th self-portrait I create a new problem and dilemma: given the known and unknown information regarding COVID-19 vaccines today, which vaccine do we choose in order to better survive the pandemic?
Here the images resemble cut-outs that are cocooned within a violent and haphazard mass of white noise. The questions are many, and the possible consequences are yet unknown. Should I take a vaccine, or not? And if so, which vaccine is the right one (and the safest) for me? The whiteness promises hope and security, but the internalized drama is almost overwhelming. The seemingly unfinished background of the painting is by no means uniform. The sharp edges from the palette knife reveal both urgency and random underlying patches of darkness, both of which threaten to challenge the assurance of science. The message is clear: “Time is short. Humanity is at a crossroad. Choose your fate, and live or die with the consequences.”
This raw, figurative painting is a significant update (if not a re-interpretation) of the original surrealistic exercise in “Flying Pope” by Ban’ya Natsuishi. The painting pictures myself in a self-portrait, looking up toward a skeptical and pouting Pope Francis who is flying high overhead — in the heavy fog-ladened and snowy Winter sky — while gazing nervously down at The Plague/COVID-19 Reaper, who is partially-concealed in shadows … lurking, and ready. The painting exhibits social distancing, as all three protagonists are deep within their own thoughts and concerns, but well aware of one another. One can wonder why the Pope has no one in his hot air balloon. But his job is perhaps not to save lives or souls, but rather to communicate the Love and Blessings of God Almighty to us … regardless of our individual fates. The ice-crystallized and sometimes violent brushstrokes of the white Expressionistic background voice a hurried sense of panic and trauma, but yet with a sense of being trapped in a padded cell, or in a vacuum — with a sense of helplessness not unlike that of experiencing a train wreck in slow motion. The effect is a disassociation between the figures, and from the Viewer to the protagonists. The figures capture the eye, but the only one who looks back at the Viewer is The Plague Reaper, whose blackened eye sockets are a real danger for the careless, and for the overly curious. The blank expanses in between the figures make the painting feel at once both unfinished and yet complete; it is an unfinished symphony — that can never be final. While the heavy abstract fog may perhaps impair our visibility immediately, we do not need to use our eyes to know that The Last Word is but an oxymoron; or thought expressed all too quickly. And that the apprehensive silence of the white expanse tells us much more Truth than the protagonists ever will. One thing is certain, the freezing cold ice crystals thickening the air and the three protagonists huddling within their own individual consciousness give little immediate sense of hope or solace.
“La enfermedad necesita soledad …
y demasiada soledad genera enfermedad.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell
Painting: “Don’t Ask!”, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm., 2020.
Painting: “The Scream” / “Isbad”, 60 x 80 cm., oil on canvas, 2020.
“A Portrait of the Artist as a Psycho”, oil on canvas, 60 x 80 cm., 2021 is a new self-portrait — no. 22 in the series.
This self-portrait explores many questions, including the suggestion that a degree of psychosis can be a defining element in creative genius, as well as containing hints of visual processing abnormalities, visual stimulation, perceptual aberrations and hallucinations, color preferences and phobias, and moreover the difficulties in identifying a «psycho»; who most often looks “normal”, and whom many interact with — some even on a daily basis. With the preponderance of mental illness, a worldwide change of Consciousness, and increasing tolerance for being “different” than the norm, being «a little psycho» is becoming the «new normal». More and more persons are owning up to their extrasensory perceptions (ESP), clairvoyance, encounters with extraterrestrials, speaking in tongues, hearing voices from Spirit Guides, automatic writing, painting and composing. Some artists (such as myself) get ideas and “coaching” from guides (both known, and not). It is not always easy to sign some of my own paintings because sometimes they (works of Art) literally paint themselves due to the energies that join in the process. It is perhaps understandable that some psychotic persons refer to themselves as “We”, rather than in the first person (I).
What colors are persons with varying degrees of psychosis attracted to, and repelled by? Can one identify a psychotic artist through his/her visual art? If we feel drawn to art created by artists with a degree of psychosis does that mean that we (the Viewer) also have such leanings?
Here I use my own image (a self-portrait) because I see myself as a mirror and a filter — through which I process my environment and my interactions with it. Every painting that I create is a part of my own image, and my own mirror/filter. As a co-creator of my World and all its realities and psychoses, I am condemned to own those creations.
Thus, it is not mere support of persons with degrees of mental illness that prompts me to say: “Je suis psychopathe”.
«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. 💀💀💀💀💀💀 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 first painting about Death:
Soul evacuation, oil on canvas, 100x150x8 cm.
THE HOPE (The Vaccine).
This is the final painting in my COVID-19 painting series chronicle. While all «endings» of pandemics are qualified — due to the ever-present possibility of re-occurrence or new viruses/new mutations, the survival and future of Humanity is dependent upon science, technology, perserverance … and, of course, abstractions such as Hope. Hope is a universal conceptual archetype — not necessarily directly connected to any known entity or individual … and it is therefore represented here as a visual abstraction in the intellectual and sense-oriented «feel good» category — expansive, yet ordered; spiritual, yet not confined to religion; and inspirational, yet mysterious.
“Eternal Sleep — Mors Vincit Omnia”, 80 x 60 cm., oil on canvas, 2021.
One of the largest challenges for an artist is possibly that of deciding / daring to envision and portray oneself as dead. While Death itself is a fascinating theme for many artists, the psychological and superstitious reasons for not painting oneself as deceased keeps many artists in lockdown as regards trespassing and overcoming this mental and emotional hurdle.
On ne peut pas vivre sa vie en ayant peur de la mort. Mais soyez assuré que la mort l’emporte sur tout, y compris la peur.
You cannot live your life being afraid of death. But rest assured that death wins out over everything, including fear.
When Twilight Comes.
When twilight comes and consciousness sleeps in,
age-old echoes from prehistoric times begin to hum
Ego’s cradle-song … first with low, dark-brown
cello tones which cause bone-marrow to tremble until
it flows, and then with high, glossy, unheard shrieks
which can only be made by angels who mean to provoke.
In time, my uneven breathing becomes transformed
into turquoise-colored waves which whip my oversensitive
psychic fortress from sobriety, and near panic.
There are no guarantees that I am ready for the
extraordinary gift that I am to be given:
a glimpse of existence in its unbelievable purity, which
is so personal that I am forced to grab onto
my earthly reality and smash the perfection
into countless, cloudy bits of mirror which rain lightly
upon my consciousness. I awaken sweaty, but not
completely empty-handed .. and I am not the person