From December 16, 2013:

It’s been over three months since publication of P1xels was suspended and I must say it is a source of happiness to have work coming in again for this interim Tumblr blog: the reassurance that the work is continuing to evolve and artists continue to develop. Case in point: this piece by Wendell.

I’m having a hard time writing about the pictures now, like I used to. Four years of P1xels, which is still down with one technical challenge after another (almost done!), the past year working like crazy to create and launch the magazine, only to have it go up in smoke.

No wind in sails, drifting in horse latitudes.

I’ll continue to steal poetry to complete the thoughts the works engender, thoughts that only rise up half-way, incomplete, out of reach, dancing jellyfish beneath the foamy surface of the furrowed green sea.

It is said,“Never complain, never explain.” I’m not complaining and I hope I didn’t explain anything!

That said, I love this picture of Wendell’s, and this poem, and the video down below.

Like a painter I run a brush
Over the canvas to blossom
The flowers of emptiness
In the garden of namelessness
I give shapes like a sculptor
Round, oval or rectangular
To spread the fragrance
Of the dimensionless figure
You handed over me
At the lustrous mid night
I sing on it with full throat
Like a fanciful minstrel
In the crowded street of despair

I own a house, too
Among the wonderland of gypsies
And beautifully I wash the walls
And hatch the words of meaninglessness
In red, white and blue
I frantically search the meaning of nothingness
to fill my unbearable void
But I still miss
Thousand miles away
To frame the picture of your shadow
In the world of my mirage
While I get the semblance of worth
All the treasures of your presence
suddenly I find in my blank space.

Blank space by Abdul Wahab

You may remember Talk Talk as an early eighties pop band cut from the same cloth as, say, Duran Duran. At some point, they tired of the pop confectionery treadmill and veered off into decidedly experimental realms of lofty ambition. The results were lovely and timeless. This piece, from the 1988 album, Spirit Of Eden, could be released today, and probably be just as ignored as it was back then. Although I suspect the guys in Radiohead were playing very close attention to these works, now that I think about it.

In any case, embedding this video was not possible so I couldn’t put it in a post with Wendell’s picture, “Separation Anxiety,” which you can see right above this video. But I think they go together like strawberries and cream.

Album : Spirit of Eden
Piste : 5
Année : 09.1988

Sortie single : 09.1988 (face A)

Hear it in my spirit
I’ve seen heroin for myself
On the street so young laying wasted
Enough ain’t it enough
Crippled world
I just can’t bring myself to see it starting

Tell me how I fear it
I buy prejudice for my health
Is it worth so much when you taste it
Enough there ain’t enough hidden hurt
A time for sell yourself
A time for passing


How long

Paroles & Musique : Mark HOLLIS – Tim FRIESE-GREENE