WORDLESS WEDNESDAY West Coast Cool

08/04/202002/04/2020 / deuxiemepeau / 12 Comments

All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

BOOKENDS; WORDLESS WEDNESDAY, PARIS

06/11/201905/11/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 6 Comments

It all started with a degree in Fashion Design and pattern making from the Grafton Academy in Dublin, so where else was I destined to live? The joys of working as a pattern making in this industry was the ability to live in different counties. In London I worked for Reiss, in Amsterdam I worked for Pepe Jeans, G- Star and Calvin Klien and finally, here, I worked at the Paris design atelier of the women’s wear lifestyle brand & Other Stories.

All photographs by Damien B Donnelly

HEMEROSCOPIUM

05/10/201905/10/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 1 Comment

I
build
sentences
in the mind
that had no
existence before,
a platform to ponder
in a place that doesn’t
exist, in truth, until it’s been told.
I move through this hemeroscopium
like an architect building a house
into a home, unearthing light
to contrast the shadow
my thoughts have
been confined in,
a helix that
spirals out
from within,
that will return
and move on, return
and move on, up towards
that light turning transparent,
sentence into substantial structure,
considerations becoming concrete
clarities that form walls, fold out
into roofs that consider creation
compulsory, stories rising from
basements, tales spinning
off, casting reflections
upon the windows
of this place,
this mind
that watches
the sun rise and set,
time twist and turn, again
and again, the circles, always
the spiralling circles, even in a straight
sentence, even in a slotted surface.
I build spaces to house beds and
beams and bright lights to lie
before this tower of truth
and watch the visions rise
and fall, like the sun, like
the laughter, like life,
like tales, like
sentences
that never stop
while always changing,
an ancient arch now foundation
to modern moment, a true temple
of contemplation in this space holding
space, light and space, shadow and
space, sentence and space, space
between the sofa, space
between the
syntax.

All words and drawing by Damien B. Donnelly

Hemeroscopium is the place where the sun sets. An allusion to a place that exists only in our mind, in our senses, that is ever-changing and mutable, but is nonetheless real.

This is a repost for a week considering Creation

TO LINGER, LONGER, MAYBE

15/08/201911/08/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 8 Comments

Like a whisper
tissue is painted with purpose,
silk spun from crisp cuts,
white scented with sapphire
parading into Prussian
(fragile of frame and filigree),
like a thought
an image opens, a petal unfolding,
shades seep into substance
as the edges fade
(how quickly we fall to forgetful)
light, liquid, linger, a little longer.
Thoughts tied in twists of emerald
shimmering,
simplicity on a simple stand,
in a liquid light
and the memory leans in.

We are more fragile
than we know.

We could be more lasting
but only time will tell.

Not everything will linger
on after our whispers
fall to a fade…

All words and photographs y Damien B. Donnelly

This is a Repost

OUR SHADE IN TIME

14/08/201911/08/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

Look for me
in the layers lost,
in the careful caress
that concerns the contours
of form and finesse. The million
meters mounded into magic, turned
and twisted into tastes now termed timeless,
look for me in the yards that yield towards yellow,
that burn into beauty, like ochre opening, that grow towards
the gleam of green, that flit and flow like a feather in flight, like rays
of the old days that ripple on the water. Look for me by the curt corners
of concrete where complacency converges, look for me where the columns congregate,
creation is not just a concept concerned with procreation
but with the colours and costumes

we claim to parade our personality.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a Repost

THE NEW LOOK

13/08/201912/08/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 20 Comments

I am
that fine line
that divides
what is feminine
from what is
futuristic.
That fine line
that flushes
the fabulous
out the fickle.
The reflection
of what once was
encased
in something else
that might
one day
be called
another new look.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a Repost

IN THE ARCHITECTURALLY FASHIONED MEMORY OF WHAT IS NOW MODERN

12/08/201911/08/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 8 Comments

I am of an age that is ageless, the very essence
that lingers somewhere between shadow and light;
that indescribable grey matter separating all that
aligns itself with black from all that derives its purity
from white. I am the illusive thread tying together
the journey, the twisting and twirling of cloths weaving
together past, present and briefly imagined futures.
I am the force between that barely dreamt dream
of what will be and that longing, lodged in the memory,
that leaves logic out to recall that single magical moment
from that day, long ago lived. That room in the mind
that holds so tightly to that taste once passed over lips,
ripe for the tasting, I am the emphasis of purity
in the remembrance of that very taste. All else,
long since, fallen by the wayside or lost out amid
the uncertainty of what’s remembered and what’s real.
I am the playfulness of the light you see cast bright
on your tall towers with their windows onto the world.
I am the linear contrast of urban lines, rising sharp
and structured amid the chaos. I am the smooth sleekness
untwining myself from a frivolous mess. I am
the seduction salvaged from the superfluous. I am
the impression left on the skin long after I’ve parted,
the mark of what once was, what is and what will be.
I am what makes the melancholy magical, every mood
a melody; the manufacturer of the moments the mind
will muster. I am the lines that will lead you on, latitudes
to rise upon and longitudes to fill your form. I am a city,
seen from above, with straights of sky-scraping streets;
lean lines, lengthy and lasting, marching triumphantly
forward as if to herald one’s rise out of confusing chaos
and stake your claim to stand above, alone, assured
and reassured, calm and confident, always exceptional,
occasionally eccentric, uniquely independent and always
individual. Modern made from a blend of what is
both memory and what has yet to be. I am everything
you put on to be who you are. Yesterday you dreamt
of me, tomorrow you’ll remember me, today, you are me.

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly.

This is a Repost.

COLOUR IS WAITING

30/04/201929/04/2019 / deuxiemepeau / 9 Comments

And still we will come to lick the honey
from the purple petal and still we will come
to root out the weeds of worthlessness in gardens
where others eat up all that is beautiful. Time turns
and we, in turn, follow its path, suns set and the moon
shows us its song, hold hands and then release,
hold hope and then move on, we only own the moment.
Mothers may still hand over their hearts to other mothers
waiting to be wanted, fathers may rise to be fearless
or choke on the root of their own fear, those black-cloaked
women pouring water from windows onto withered plants,
who’ve buried their living bodies in a bitterness
for all that life has lynched from them, will continue
to cry as flames flicker out along the Seine,
like their memory, revealing structure still standing
but soul no longer settled. They will still pour
their buckets of tears down the aging walls of a city
that cannot see beyond its past. If we cannot catch colour
then we too will be cremated in the concrete. But black
is only shadow until it finds a reason to ignite in light,
bark is dry but the branch bares blossom. Eat the storms,
Mother said, remember? Boil the beds of bitter blackness
until the dream rips through the rain and translucent
turns them lighter, brighter. And still we will come
to that lake where language lingers, still we will sink
beneath its depths to slip ourselves from the reflections
we have once worn and now outgrown. Still we will sink
kisses onto our starved lips and still come back for more
after love catches hold of kisses cradled on other lips.
Catch the colour, catch the kisses, catch the life
racing by in taxis, on trains with crimson carriages
connecting moments waiting to be made magical.
The starry night can be a bright light waiting for us
to paint it. Behold how much there is to love, to let go of,
to learn from. Let us be the design and not just the destruction.
Eat the storms, she said, taste the refreshment in the bright
blue rain. Colour is waiting just beyond the clouds.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

30th and final poem for National Poetry Writing Month 2019

LA CITE RADIEUSE, LE CORBUSIER, ARCHITECTURE

24/08/201816/08/2021 / deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

Unite d’Habitation/La Cite Radieuse by architect Le Corbusier by Marseille (1959-1960)…

All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SCENES FROM SOUTH KOREA, SEOUL, PART 1

21/06/201816/08/2021 / deuxiemepeau / 13 Comments

Looking back at the last 18 days of holiday.

And so the journey begins, Seoul, South Korea…

The Dongaemum Design Plaza

Pink character in the The Dongaemum Design Center

1st night of arrival, we ask a taxi to bring us to the centre of Gangnam and he drops us off in front of & Other Stories, I work at the Paris Atelier of & Other Stories!