like lotus leaves

A Landscape All Her Own, James Rich, acrylic on canvas

like lotus leaves

where is the dreamtime, i mean

what space

where is the marker

to let us know if we know

recognize

were, are, or will be

where are the parts

we don't remember

the silver cord, now snapped back

releases these dreamscapes

floating

like lotus leaves

on green water

~ regan lee

eugene, oregon

feb 2014

Max Ernst Inspired Paintings - James Rich

Related to the post below about Christopher Knowles and Mike Clelland's bloggings about the surrealist painter Max Ernst, I thought I'd share a few of Jim's paintings. Ernst, as I commented in the previous post has been an inspiration for him. Jim often paints in a surrealist style, he's also played around with collages and paint as a medium. Many of his surreal and abstract paintings have a "galactic" theme -- referencing space, nature...


This painting reminds me of an Ernst influence, which Jim freely acknowledges. This is an acrylic on canvas board. Neither one of us remembers the title -- the original is packed away in the dark regions of the studio outside -- but we both think the title had Atlantis in it. If it didn't, it should have! So for now it's titled "Ruins of Atlantis."

James Rich, Ruins of Atlantis, 1980?, acrylic on canvas board

hidden experience: Max Ernst, ritual magic and UFOs

Mike Clelland has a great post, inspired by the equally great OP from Christopher Knowles at The Secret Sun, concerning the surreal painter Max Ernst. Were images in the paintings shown on both blogs referring to a UFO abduction event? And even if they were not, not directly anyway, there is still a connection, as Christopher Knowles suggests. See Mike's post at hidden experience: Max Ernst, ritual magic and UFOs and Christopher Knowles post that Mike references here.

Painting by Max Ernst

Knowles writes:

It took some time to sort out but I later found that UFOs minus the ETH (namely, the Elusive Companion Hypothesis) worked quite well when I plugged them into all of the obsessions I plunged myself after dealing with those impasses; Synchronicity, High Weirdness, deep symbology, and so on.

In fact, the ECH was the missing puzzle piece that kept eluding me when dealing with those topics.

I also soon discovered that the ECH was lurking in the shadows of nearly every single obsession-- and often every mystery or conundrum-- in my life without me ever realizing it. I discover fresh examples of this all of the time and share them with you here.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Painting by Max Ernst

(The image of the specific style of circle appears in other paintings. There's something very "all knowing" about that image. Something prescient, reminding me a little of my orange orb encounter. Ernst's circle is not orange, nor is it a orb or closed sphere, but still, there's something that tugs at me in my own personal image bank. In Ernst's circle I find it interesting that the circle seems to beckon, as well as watch. There's an opening within the circle, which evokes, for myself, areas that are hidden yet ... to be found.)



I left a comment at Mike Clellands hidden experience that Ernst is a favorite artist of my husband Jim, who is a painter, often painting in surreal styles. When I shared these posts with Jim, and told him about the book Knowles mentions on his blog; Max Ernst and Alchemy: A Magician in Search of Myth By M. E. Warlick and told him that Ernst "was a magician" he said he "wasn't surprised -- I've always felt that, and always related to his spirituality." (Then a lively conversation ensued about collage, art, spirituality, war, ...okay, I'm back...)

Mike at hidden experience calls Christopher's post about Ernst "groundbreaking" and I agree.

Halloween Season

Halloween is only one day, but for me, it's a season -- the whole month of October. Actually, as I posted on UFO Mary about my Day of the Dead inspired altar, the season -- "witchy," Fall, Halloween, magick, senses, flames and lights, -- begins around the early September and ends in early November.

I love vintage Halloween images, and decided this year to try and post an image a day (though probably won't achieve that) on some of my blogs, with a theme. On UFO Mary: devil themes, on Mothman Flutterings, bats, etc. So here at Alien Art Genre I thought I'd post monsters and other images that won't fit elsewhere.

The image posted here isn't vintage, and it isn't a monster. But it has a Halloween vibe to it. I love this painting; it's by my husband, James (Jim) Rich, painted about ten years ago I think. It's titled Bruja. Right now it's in the studio but I want it in our bedroom... maybe I can convince him to put it up soon. Happy Days of Halloween everyone!

Bruja, James Rich, acrylic on canvas

Old Poems and Images

I've been going through some of my poetry and creative writing with the idea of e-zines, or chapbooks, or something, not sure yet where I'm going with this. I noticed that some of theses early poems from the 1980s have recurring images of orbs, night skies, and feelings of disconnection. In re-reading them, I realized many of these were written around the time I saw the orange orb. In fact, this poem refers to an orb, although it's a sliver orb, not orange. The imagery is interesting: moon women, orbs, shadows, and the end, sweet jesus, "capturing my frozen eyes." ?! What was that about? I also noticed that I wrote a lot of these kinds of poems during the late summer and the fall, which is the time frame for our orb sighting. And in going back further, reading poems I wrote while living in L.A., the imagery of orbs and night and planets, etc. were present. As Jim and I know now, we had UFO related, and/or high strangeness events occur when we were living in L.A., before the orange orb sighting. And, of course, going back to our childhoods, independent of each other. Are there clues in these poems, signals from the subconscious? No doubt, lol.

unconnected with moon women

a silver orb waits silently in a
musty corner on a wooden shelf,
hidden by sharp shadows like Chinese meat cleavers poised
on thick pegs above labeled spice jars, corked and racked, 
full of the herbs of mid-wives, now forgotten.

on the windowsill, tart purple grapes, hot and shriveled
grapefruit and pomegranate exposing their soft pink and secret glistening red waiting to be eaten.

unconnected with moon women i wait,
a single artichoke on a a scalloped plate, my tips half chewed, strewn about the cream white edges

the sliver orb shifts forward slightly in the night, and
one sliver gleams bone white 

capturing my frozen eyes.

~ 1982

Alien Ant

 Alien Ant Watercolor, James Rich

(This post and image appeared on my Saucer Sightings blog awhile back, with some very minor alterations, here it is:)

This is a watercolor painting Jim did many years ago, when we were first together. I remember when he painted it. It's a small watercolor on paper; about 18" by 18".

I told him it was an "interesting painting" and that it reminded me of an alien; some kind of alien painting. He said he had no idea what was going on when he painted that; what he was thinking or why he painted it. No recollection of the inspiration or what he was trying to do.

He asked me what I meant by "alien painting" I said, well, it immediately, for some reason, just screamed alien and spaceship at me. I have the impression the ant is female, very large, "alien," and is holding something, some sort of tablet. Jim looked at it and said he saw what I meant. I reminded Jim of all the giant insect alien stories; usually praying mantis type creatures, or giant grasshopper type beings some speak about in connection with UFO encounters. After he looked at it he said it reminded him of a female being as well; probably because of the way it's sitting and the long robe or whatever it is it/she is wearing.

It was at that time, when he painted this, that Jim and I were experiencing a lot of unusual UFO events, including an episode of missing time. I had my "Geisha Woman Alien" dream during that time frame. This painting reminds me of that awful image in my dream, even though there isn't much comparison. (Someday I should try to draw or paint the "Geisha Woman Alien" . . .)

Speaking of alien insectoid beings, in a bit of synchronicity I was listening to George Noory last night on C2C. (By the way, say what you will about him, and I have, he is a goof ball in many ways, but he was defending the medical marijuana use law in California, so good for him) and he and a caller were sharing praying mantis stories. Not in the context of aliens or UFOs however, more mundane than that. And earlier today I read Richard Thomas Room 101 column on Binnall of America, where he writes about Ghosts, Aliens, Yeti and the Late Great Nigel Kneale British "father" of sci fi television and movies. Which inspired me to post something on my blog Frame 352: The Stranger Side of Sasquatch with this image:

I'm deathly, pathologically afraid of insects. I had some chilling experiences as a child -- I won't go there, far too personal and wrapped up in family dysfunction abuse  horrors -- but at the same time, I don't like to see people just stomp on insects for no reason. (There was also a weird event in Crescent City, California, involving a Japanese beetle, alcoholic abusers though not to me, hmm, a theme here I see, and I kid you not, a real life scene with "Deliverance" type redneck hillbillies, complete with shotguns and a truck full of pitbulls. But I digress.) (And there was another thing with a bumble bee when I was a kid, and my sister as well, I found out years later, that has to do with missing time and high strangeness.)I'll certainly go out of my way to kill bugs in the house, depending on what kind; wasps, etc. Others I take outside. Well, okay, I try to get Jim to take them outside, but the point is, I don't like killing things if I can help it.

Well, that all took a weird turn, I see. As disjointed as all this might seem, one thing stands out: a conflicting relationship with insects. I like some of them, they're pretty, many are harmless, etc. Others I am fearful of to the point of vomiting. People with encounters with giant insectiod alien beings report both terrifying experiences, as well as ones of learning, wisdom and beauty. Why this contrast? Are our mundane encounters a reflection, on a symbolic level, of these experiences?