December 26, 2017
CALLIGRAPHY FOR PEACE
MULTI MEDIA LIVE PERFORMANCE AT MANA DOWNTOWN MIAMI- 

December 1, 2017
MIAMI- ART BASEL 2017
December 1, 2016
LEGEND OF LEDA AND ICARUS

THE LEGEND OF LEDA AND ICARUS



it was an exorcist with all changing faces of the devil- or it might have been the miraculous music- for it’s destiny was not driven by his desires but by a higher mystical goal- unknown to everyone- almost even to himself- laying down-high- he was trying to find refuge from the intense labyrinth of his visions-and here was the danger- love was a miracle- and only for he was seeking for the highest— he longed to make this demon appear- to fight and wish for victory- he knew he was gifted to reach the sun, but also the darkest abyss- he knew life here had no meaning but learning the skills he would need for the great journey- he knew he was apart- part of the wind- but it felt that this dream could not be achieved without the beloved— not be translated- the secret could never be revealed- he must learn- he thought, the language in which he could create his vision of wisdom and passion- and without her it would be impossible- oh death-charming menace- coming so close he could tough her.

-both os us- leda said, our goal is not to melt into each other- but to make our differences brighter

-we are opposites, seeking the same light.

awaken-who knows himself- his infinite power and radiant weakness-  intimate knowledge of the nature of death- escaping from reason- around him everything became blurry- abstract- unconscious—he felt- face on ground- released by this deep desire of non-being- to penetrate the great suffering of the world- pulse of death-pulse of life- the abyss that he reached now- embraced by the great spirit-he was still here, in part- but everything felt so distant- from another world- we could see him- touch him kiss him- but never reach him- he transmitted his lights but never his shadows- leda came with fire in her heart- great power to destroy his solitude- for they would chase the great spirit in the cavern of invisible shadows- she could understand his darkness, his most hidden forgotten sides of himself-denied by everyone else- she provoked the death of his mortal sins- for she learned more by looking at the flowers in the fields then in any book of the library- this truth was eroding finally falling apart- ghost of reality in ashes- he heard the call- this way was uncertain and insane, but there was no others- for he was engaged in a world where words lost their meaning- where we attract each other with owl screams-` where only poetry rules- where only immortality is sacred- and he surrendered to the silent lips of venus- laying it’s painful destiny on her breast— a discreet perfume reminded him she she desired him profoundly- beast of flesh- beast of heart- beast of soul— nothing he would do to her  something that he did not desired for himself- something that she had herself somehow provoked- the originality of her kiss destroyed all resistance in him- they would fly- and now- and they would embrace all magic consequences of their acts for they were engaged in a loud dance that nothing could stop— not even their deepest fear- she had her way to say things-spilling pearls of poetry with decadent beauty-they were so alive- so awake- so conscious of every moment- that never they would be back- they would never embrace memories- he had under his eyes what he had experienced only in his deepest hallucinations- the universe lifted her veil to let them see- to let them be- his hands spoke another language that she knew and embraced into her irrational circle of being- she made no difference between giving or receiving- man or woman- death or life- penetrating or being penetrated- same union- same dance- they could feel at every of their kiss all the beauty and suffering of the world- for their love was expansion- was not egoist, never possessive- noble images and poems came like waterfall of the arts- at the fountain of the immortals- traced since forever but invisible- they felt with silver trembling hands the great mysterious beauty of this world but also it s tragedy - they preserved in their souls untouched images of purity- in them survived the myth of the origin- for their fears they transform into light and power- to save them from the dance off death- the menace of darkness- they witnessed the fall and death of a million flowers-as they would fall themselves one day- would he ever captured in it’s entity her silhouette of shadows ? for she was using his brushes and his hand to be immortalised  in the glory of her intimate mythical essence- she contained the whole universe in her- she was painting through him- her joy to her deepest suffering- fusion of blood and spirit- to preserve the eternal secret: masculine and feminine as one-

- I did not created that, whispered Icarus, you have guided it to my soul

 Staring at the abyss of the unknown- she pulled out a string of pears that he swallowed- to bring his eyes and his hands together- his flesh and his heart together- these visions were not form - they were energy- they were poems but never defined- they would never reduced love to a shape or a word- they would risk their life for immortality- love had destroyed all their memories and old rituals- their boundaries were on fire- they had to find a new way to exist- love came like the strongest wind- taking everything on it’s way- they just felt at this moment the caress of this wind- but he came from the depth of times- from the birth of the human soul- when myths were not define yet- 

his pact with the -duende - made his existence harder- for he could never let go -for he was in a constant search-in a constant explosion - his affiliation with death pushed him on the higher realms of life- what would be eroticism if death was not hidden behind? what love would be without the quest for immortality? He would fall back into long silent moments of darkness- where no images could come- he would hear the drums of the march of death-  black hand holding a white feather-  he would scream like a warrior- she would come like delicate music- death never kissed her- to him death would come like a lover- like a swan on a dark lake at night- her silhouette was made for love- for she carried in her the seeds of universal peace- she never knew- he had draw so much that this world was a white paper- not conscious of his surroundings- he would offer his life to this sacred beauty-  the sacred ecstasy of risking his life for her- her lips came closer- heavy with desire- their first kiss erased the memory of a thousand lovers- heaven opened up- hell too- for everything was revealed at the same moment-  he saw her into a pearl egg- they would remain in the sun until the moon took them away- how would he ever paint the image of love that would survive long after their death- how she could leave a trace of perfume that could be smelled by generations to come-  how could they write a poem that would inspire all  lovers for a million years- they were not man and woman- they were love-  and in the act of love-they lost their gender- she was penetrating his heart- his soul- his body- she was the universe- fugitives on the run- what love would be without the great mystery? -it was evening it was night it was morning-their dance was endless- never they had feared dawn- never they had feared the deepest shadows-they would risk all they were to reach this place-there was no tother way- her breath were verses of the most beautiful poem for she carried with her the primal song of earth- the survival of this place depended on the survival of myths- sacred spirit- mythical beasts in human bodies- trapped in human history-  this is where they were, dancing on the streets of atlantis- drinking from her breast the elixir of youth- 

she gave him the grace of the white swan

he gave her the fury of the black bull


end part one

captured in bangkok. march 2016

(written with the cut-ups process after narcissus and goldmund by herman hesse)

carlito dalceggio


December 24, 2015
I SHOUT AT THE HOLY-
in process-combine painting- installation- 3d cardboard cut-outs- 
December 4, 2015
PORTRAIT OF GOLSHIFTEH NO.1 AND 2.

December 4, 2015
HEY ALICE-LOOK, WE HAVE A BRIGHT FUTURE
3D  cardboard cut out -collage- channelled at la bohemia in exile- mexico city in dec 2015- 40 cm x 140 cm  
December 1, 2015
TEMPLO DE LA LIBERTAD-FREEDOM TEMPLE
multimedia interactive sculpture-installation- at plaza santo doming- centro historico- mexico city- november 2015- ( with Alejandro Argumedo)
December 1, 2015
TEMPLO DE LA LIBERTAD-FREEDOM TEMPLE
multimedia interactive sculpture-installation- at plaza santo doming- centro historico- mexico city- november 2015- ( with Alejandro Argumedo) freedom prayers inside the temple hanged by visitors -
December 31, 2014
A CHAIR FOR MILES DAVIS
chair designed by john hutton-miami 2013- 
December 31, 2014
JOURNAL-summer 2014 ( un-edited)

quito-ecuador-

I am a lonely Funambulist

surrounded by disintegrated ballerinas

The end of Reincarnation

A Broken Accordion

A Tango on the Radio

            Blind Riot

            Red Curtain in Flames

She was fun when she was Lost

Drawing of a theatre, naked

Among my books and my journal, i am never Alone

Another Beer, blood from the Bees

I will not make it to the Sea

Low voices long table

Jazz Antique

 

My bones are broken

My hand on speed

A television staring at me

Spleen, by a thousand

mexico city------------

My left hand a burning flag

            Did you come here to really experience

Or to be a voyeur?

            Will you let them take it all?

Will you write a poem with the saliva of the volcano?

             There was no god to pray to in these times

Earth was One

            Her eyes Black as charcoal of the unknown sea

Killing solitude among millions

            Unknown Race

Everything is different now

            Innocence and time are gone

Future is gone, Desire is gone

            Only remains the essence of making art

The hand that holds the brush

            Torch for those who cross the night

A torch for those who seek for the Highest

            My brushes, the weapon of the Freedom Seekers

The oxygen of the Pearl Divers

            The tongue of the lust lovers

Mirrors of time, god is my only reflection,

            In Him all I want to achieve, the great quest

God, among the trees, among the silence of her dance

            So many blind love letters

Solitude at hands must end

            I swallow my blood

The experimentation has pushed me away

            I lost words, I lost ground

I do not belong here anymore

            Shall we just leave this body and keep going higher?

I am a lady, I am a symphony, without conductor

            I am 88 ivory, Touch

I am a Hundred Naked Violins

 

 

Naked animal

            She never closes her eyes when we make love

She sees through

            Through me and through darkness

She hangs on me like the wind on a sail

            Silver Wolf

 

December 31, 2014
DEATH OF LIES
edition of 12 sculptures, made of resin 3d alchemy by haligon fine arts, miami,
December 31, 2014
SELF-PORTRAIT NO. 7
shoes, acrylic, butterfly , ink and cardboard under plexiglass box, 
December 20, 2014
RIO DE JANEIRO- FAVELA MURAL
live mural creation with 30 children in favela aleman, , 100 meters long -  with amour da terra
December 19, 2014
YAGE PAPER KITE VISION
NO.1 & NO.2 -acrylic and ink on canvas, 180 cm x 80 cm  x 2,---channeled at the studio-a boca do vulcao, hacienda aluna- alto paraiso, brazil-
December 10, 2014
THE YAGE-KITE VISION NO.1
acrylic, ink, on arches paper,, 35 cm x 160 cm, channeled in alto paraiso, brazil,
December 1, 2014
HURRICANE OF PEACE-(homage to huichol wisdom)
-acrylic , ink and collage on canvas, 180 cm x 270 cm, november 2014- mexico city- la bohemia in exile
December 1, 2014
THE RED CURTAIN
acylic, ink and collage on paper, 100 cm x 130 cm , channeled in mexico city , at la bohemia in exile,