Saturday, March 07, 2009

17 PAINTINGS, some old some new, up now at

4799 Telegraph Ave., Oakland, CA


Statement for the show:

Brian Strang lives in East Oakland and teaches English composition at San Francisco State University and Merritt College. He is the author of INCRETION (Sputyen Duyvil) and MACHINATIONS (a free Duration ebook) and several chapbooks. His poems, reviews, essays and translations have appeared in many journals including New American Writing, Five Fingers Review, The Denver Quarterly and Ur-Vox. Recently, his poetry appeared in translation in the Portuguese journal DiVersos.

His paintings represent “an attempt to be guided visually and artistically by the imagination’s interaction with natural forms and nature itself: the perilous context, the most permeating materiality, the system of interrelated forces so complex, so enormous and so minute, so internal and external, that it extends far beyond the limitations of imagination and is, therefore, marvelous. Poetry is encoded within the forms of the world, within Whitman’s “spear of summer grass”—one only has to look closely to see it.”

This is his third solo show.

“Strang’s work... suggests a more romantic pleasure in and response to visual phenomena. [It] betrays a rhythmic sensibility not unlike that found in a sketch by Matisse.”
Garrett Caples
SF Bay Guardian 6/13/07


Silent Raven said...

Hello. Loved your blog. Got here because I was searching about the translation of one of Ruy Ventura's book, and found your name, somewhere. Surely fell in love with this place.

Vicente Ferreira da Silva said...


há corvos pousados nas neblinas adiadas.

augúrios! as laqueações interrompidas das ilusões.
mas quantos prenúncios foram realmente descontados?

no limiar da densidade perene,
vagam incertos os lamentos dos deuses,
os receptáculos vazios fulgem.
sem cinzas ou ventos passados!

apenas se recordam as magnólias roxas.
o velho fluir, esbateu-se no som presente.

são as dissonâncias das eras.
e no entanto, basta ir pelos meatos vizinhos
onde vida é um pendente interrompido.

nas névoas suspensas estiveram corvos pousados!

foi cidra, a água do tempo.
e desprendeu-se o conhecimento do antigo.

in Interlúdios da Certeza

Belo quadro!