Still Life
(Ballpoint on Paper)
CONQUERING MY INNER DEMONS
(Excepted from Danny Castillones Sillada journal)
"In early 2003, bored, desolate, and depressed about my artistic career, I started to write and draw the objects in my surroundings using an ordinary ballpoint on paper. These were objects and little creatures that I saw inside and outside my rented apartment.
"The process was like putting back the pieces of the puzzle: finding words or objects that would arouse the urgency of my creative mood. Consequently, the short poems and drawings reveal the lingering convulsion of my soul, tinged with satire and bleak humor.
"Looking back, I did not realize that my existential plight would yield such a modest anthology of confessional poems and drawings."
(These artworks are part of 56 ballpoint drawings and 56 poems.)
(Excepted from Danny Castillones Sillada journal)
"In early 2003, bored, desolate, and depressed about my artistic career, I started to write and draw the objects in my surroundings using an ordinary ballpoint on paper. These were objects and little creatures that I saw inside and outside my rented apartment.
"The process was like putting back the pieces of the puzzle: finding words or objects that would arouse the urgency of my creative mood. Consequently, the short poems and drawings reveal the lingering convulsion of my soul, tinged with satire and bleak humor.
"Looking back, I did not realize that my existential plight would yield such a modest anthology of confessional poems and drawings."
(These artworks are part of 56 ballpoint drawings and 56 poems.)
Surreal Morning
“Every instant of time is a pinprick of eternity. All things are petty, easily changed, vanishing away.”
~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
This morning, I woke up as though I just got out
from a birdcage, wondering
where I was or how I arrived there!
The atmosphere was strangely drab and illusory,
the twittering of the birds cold and distant,
and everything seemed ominously calm and serene.
A streak of light slithered through a single hole
on my ceiling, touching my face gently
like a child’s delicate finger.
Outside my window, I could see silhouettes
of undulating twigs reflecting on a bamboo fence,
waving like ghostly hands on dark alleyways.
One of the twigs held a drooping leaf
where the iridescent morning dew hanged suicidal
amid the inescapable morning heat of the sun.
~ Danny Castillones Sillada
“Every instant of time is a pinprick of eternity. All things are petty, easily changed, vanishing away.”
~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
This morning, I woke up as though I just got out
from a birdcage, wondering
where I was or how I arrived there!
The atmosphere was strangely drab and illusory,
the twittering of the birds cold and distant,
and everything seemed ominously calm and serene.
A streak of light slithered through a single hole
on my ceiling, touching my face gently
like a child’s delicate finger.
Outside my window, I could see silhouettes
of undulating twigs reflecting on a bamboo fence,
waving like ghostly hands on dark alleyways.
One of the twigs held a drooping leaf
where the iridescent morning dew hanged suicidal
amid the inescapable morning heat of the sun.
~ Danny Castillones Sillada