ROAD TO THE WELL
@LaurenceFuller plays a directionless young man having a very bad weekend in "Road to the Well," a low-budget neo-noir distinguished by strong characters and a skewed perspective - LA Times
Now available for streaming everywhere! https://t.co/mHXCqvmCXn
GN ~ My Edens After Burns 🥀🔥https://t.co/wU9RC4uVRN
Adaptations ~ I’ve been putting together a new portfolio of my artworks on my website these past couple weeks, collecting the curations I’ve been part of over the years into one place and rediscovered “My Edens After Burns” x @valkilmer & @tania_rivilis & @lipking & @henrikaau & @OriginalGoldCat & @buridanova & @rubenfro (below is the trailer to the five chapters)
It made me consider the nature of adaptation. Taking Val’s poem into the context of a story set in the American Revolutionary War, gave it a new life and new dimensions of meaning.
The artworks by these five world class painters were digitized and reimagined by the incredible cloud point flow skills of Ruben Fro. The story of Lovie’s husband’s ghost coming back to talk to her reimagined through the sweeping cinematic visuals of the West, each painter bringing their unique voice to it.
To consider and reimagine ideas from the past that once struck a chord, and bring them to new audiences in the present. Like archeologists with creative liberties. Art is a powerful vessel for history because it speaks beyond a date or a name, it speaks to the realm of our experience. It speaks to imagination and gives a very different kind of truth, an unquantifiable humanity.
What a beautiful moment Edens After Burns was in the digital art scene of 2022 ~ tysm to the collectors and patrons of this art @yperspace & @TheMaineMariner & @ArtsDesignNfts & @DogmaCats & @JacqScripps & @intellivisi0x & @zenfr & @evlosm & @stifpower & @KampKilmer & @Lot22C & @cryptopeng1 & @LeslieASpurlock & @IdaHerself
HBD to one of the greatest actors who ever lived ~ Philip Seymour Hoffman. I wrote this poem in his memory shortly after he passed in 2014 🥀🔥
Art is the belly button lint from when you forget to shower that morning
Art is your mismatched socks and uncombed hair.
It is the crack in your voice when you wake up in the morning
The courage to say I'm just as fucked up as you are, ain't that beautiful?
The hair that creeps up your wrist to the back of your hand as time ticks by
Art is the yearning to come to the deepest part of you and me, to the common inevitable loneliness we feel everyday. Without the pretense of perfection, just the stains on our shirt collar.
A George Grosz drawing of a homeless drunk with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
The grey that we swim through with cement on our lashes. Art is the light in our hearts.
The feeling that we miss and the new one that we gain from missing.
Rubble in the darkness, broken glass in the day. I'm lost either way, but dirty and broken I stand before life with hope for better days.
I don't know where I'm going but I remember everyday from where I came. How do you still love me, despite me?
I want to be someone else
I want to see something else
I want to touch my skin and feel scales, see with different eyes
Hear with ears that fucking listen properly
My beard is itching and my pants are down. My throat hurts and my back is all scratched and scarred, quick somebody get a camera.
I don't care that my eyes are red, they're suppose to be red I have responsibilities. Fuck it there's a drink in the fridge and art on the walls, let's talk.
Night & Day 🥀🔥 https://t.co/GoUksjUtTk
This piece is split into two halves, now live w/ @fakewhale_xyz exhibition ‘Art Market’
Have you ever experienced an ego death?
These past couple weeks have seen my spiritual ruptures that brought me to my knees.
I was absent from my life and from even exhibitions that were calling for my presence. I had wondered, but not through forests, through the jungle of man that was Los Angeles.
My home became the cocoon of a new blooming idea that came from the death of a self that sat on my chest. An ego death, that was not my first. The casting out of the bad habits that kept me addicted to the unobtainable and inhabitable side to my spirit that no longer belonged in my home.
GM ~ Richard III 🥀🔥
Brilliant to see my collaboration x @gammatrace_ displayed at his first solo exhibition at this beautiful location!
The 67th 'Festival dei Due Mondi' - @FestivalSpoleto - where Palazzo Collicola is showcasing 'Trace_001' by @gammatrace_ — open for visits until July 14th.
Richard III was directed by @vincentdonofrio
🗓️ Exhibit Dates: June 28 - July 14
📍 Location: Palazzo Collicola, @ComunediSpoleto
Produced by @valuartdotcom
As fireworks light up the sky like a green parade in the night ~ I consider our traditions. This world is on the brink of overwhelming change. Some of our oldest customs will melt away into time, and others are yet to be discovered 🥀🔥
WIP ~ currently working on a poetic piece with some legends of cinema ~ that is an adaptation of some rich material set in WWII by old friends in the film world, more soon!! 🥀🔥
GM & Happy Father’s Day 🥀🔥
I never knew my father as a boy because he passed young ~ but I came to know his as a man through his writings on art. A couple years ago @BonafideBlack presented me with the award for Best Adapted Screenplay at BIFF for my screenplay about him https://t.co/ahmOxycZ4F
“Great art, makes great demands upon us” ~ as he would say. Happy Father’s Day Peter Fuller.
The Fountain ~ SOHO Cinematic Frame I 🥀🔥 https://t.co/5oK5h1pLwY
I need the noise from a fountain to write my thoughts,
The water splashes by the brushes and wet leaves drip,
Sprays from the fountains droplets shatter the sun’s rays in the air.
Nymphs push back the good favor of courting satyrs, and flick their hair,
I need that noise to hear my own thoughts,
Traveling an artist’s soul across continents,
Tortured in the sparrow’s consent,
Migrating where love takes out intent,
Drop their pretenses, we will not pretend,
So little known,
Under the incomparable moonlight,
Our journey’s first breathe,
By the noise of the fountain, it was all left unsaid.
~ LF