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Artists Beat the Flood 2 overflows with creativity
Click here for the photo gallery for Artists Beat the Flood 2
About Artists Beat the Flood 2
A first for many, a second for a few. Artists Beat the Flood took place at a summertime pace.
With 16 splashing visual artists, 5 harmonious music groups, and numerous generous partners, we were able to launch a wonderful event, and a unique experience where the Red Room hosted a live art and music event at Huashan Creative Park 華山文創區, a first for both the Red Room and Huashan.
Recognition is necessary for all of our supporting organisations and parties. Thank you to venue host Huashan and Emily Wang, coordinator for libLAB Studios. A special note to an individual who provided the essential supplies; Brendon Chen from Escape Artist contributed the canvases, attended, and participated in Artists Beat the Flood on July 5th with a glow of contagious positivity.
Treats and snacks by Granola House
Fresh ingredients for a freeflow salad bar by Dressed Taipei
Bottomless barrel of refreshments provided by 榕吧Rong Bar
Art Supplies by Escape Artist
Sponsorship and support by JB’s Diner
and our usual helping hands at Ripplemaker and Canmeng
And last but not least, thanks to all the volunteers from the Red Room community who helped make the day a success!
The silent auction took place all day as the artists worked their canvases. We are delighted to report that all paintings were sold by the end of the day! Red Roomers, we can proudly say that we have achieved our goal; this event has been a wonderful beginning to what we hope will be a series of live art & music events.
Julia Kao, Grace Lu, Jeremy Chen, Constance Woods, Carol Yao, Ping Chu were covering the event and posting regular updates on facebook. Thank you for your wonderful photos of the art, musicians and the space.
Video COMING SOON!
Stay tuned as the Dream Magician sets the scene for Stage Time & Juice this saturday, followed by a special visit by the Red Room Muse – Tina Ma.
Stage Time & Wine will commence soon after at 6:30pm.
Start the day with a bottle of juice or wine as we hope to see you this Saturday!
Tim Nathan Joel – June 2013
RED READING RED
Dearest Red Room,
It’s been a painting since we last spoke. I trust you’re as healthy as ever
And getting accustomed to the freedom we seek.
My prose has been lacking, being away from you like this.
My painting on the other hand, is never without its purpose.
Feeling in the dark as it does, knowing the truth is out there.
What it feels suggests there is a roulette at play during all parts of our day.
Every now and then I take a risk and gamble,
Much to the dismay of Winston, Sophia, Loren and Mellow, (my dogs).
Like the night my motorbike rode me into a blossom tree.
Leaving me stunned on the ground then spinal tap bound.
An episode resulting in a true love found, (my nurse).
Tell me Red Room, with all one’s rehearsing, ranting, ravings and romanticizing.
What do those people in front of you, who so kindly un-shingle their chastised feet for you, have to say about where we are?
Is the enclosed writer free to read your mind? Does the view seem real to you?
What would you hear if we remain silent?
I am without a doubt a very naïve post modern expressionist by day
And a surreal impressionist by night.
A midnight toker, a self critical insomniac and a red wine prophet in need.
A thinker, a lover, a dreamer, a doer and a prover.
Am I talking to myself again or are you there with me?
A dead man once told me “Be accommodating to all those souls, but always allow time for your own.” Red to me is the colour of the soul.
It is that which flows throughout us and came from a place we have no fine knowledge of. Knowledge these days is over stated. It is tainted.
It is steered with its horns by invisible clutches.
It is a rooftop with no visible ledge. It is outside this space.
Red Room, you are coursing through all our veins. You are always here when we appear. We won’t forget to lend an ear. What we learn from you is nothing new.
We come here because of you.
And if every generation has its beat, then why wait for the stomp of feet.
Or the climate change to raise the heat.
Are we here to raise a glass?
Are we here to stop a farce? Are you the one to ask?
Should we treat your stage as our mask?
Is your wine table there to help us read our line?
All these questions are answered in time, and time is all it takes.
Once you’ve realized what time takes from you.
But back to the point and the point being sharp.
All the world is a stage and all in the world light up their rightful time.
Yet when the world whines not all of us hear in time.
Is this why when I need water all I want is wine?
Is it darkest just before the dawn? How would so many know,
Lost in their cities of polluted night.
Red Room, must we come here to be read?
What if I am blue and know not what to do?
What if I am green with envy?
What if my words have a silver lining?
What if my golden tongue knows no rest?
And if from darkness comes the light, then one’s truth must surely be revealed.
At which point, as a soul would state, there is no turning back.
There exists no choice.
Alive is felt once out of one’s hive.
There is more than one sky in which one must try.
Blake noted all men seeing life through narrow chinks of his cavern.
May we not let that happen.
The dead man is me, I just like projecting ahead.
And here resides my biggest clue to each and every red rumor of you.
By
J O E L
2 0 1 2
(c) Copyright 2013 Red Room. Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of this publication. Thank you.
Timothy Nathan Joel, May 2012
RED READING RED
(version 2).
Dearest Red Room,
It’s been a painting since we last spoke. I trust you’re as healthy as ever
And getting accustomed to the freedom we seek.
My prose has been lacking, being away from you like this.
My painting on the other hand, is never without its purpose.
Feeling in the dark as it does, knowing the truth is out there.
What it feels suggests there is a roulette at play during all parts of our day.
Every now and then I take a risk and gamble,
Much to the dismay of Winston, Sophia and Loren (my dogs).
Like the night my motorbike rode me into a blossom tree.
Leaving me stunned on the ground then spinal tap bound.
An episode resulting in a true love found (my nurse).
Tell me Red Room, with all one’s rehearsing, ranting, ravings and romanticizing.
What do those people in front of you, who so kindly un-shingle their chastised feet for you, have to say about where we are?
Is the enclosed writer free to read your mind? Does the view seem real to you?
What would you hear if we remain silent?
I am without a doubt a very naïve post modern expressionist by day
And a surreal impressionist by night.
A midnight toker, a self critical insomniac and a red wine prophet in need.
A thinker, a lover, a dreamer, a doer and a prover.
Am I talking to myself again or are you there with me?
A dead man once told me “Be accommodating to all those souls, but always allow time for your own.” Red to me is the colour of the soul.
It is that which flows throughout us and came from a place we have no fine knowledge of.
Knowledge these days is over stated. It is tainted.
It is steered with its horns by invisible clutches.
It is a rooftop with no visible ledge. It is outside this space.
Red Room, you are coursing through all our veins. You are always here when we appear. We won’t forget to lend an ear. What we learn from you is nothing new.
We come here because of you.
And if every generation has its beat, then why wait for the stomp of feet.
Or the climate change to raise the heat.
Are we here to raise a glass?
Are we here to stop a farce? Are you the one to ask?
Should we treat your stage as our mask?
Is your wine table there to help us read our line?
All these questions are answered in time, and time is all it takes.
Once you’ve realized what time takes from you.
The anagram emit shows clearly what we miss.
But back to the point and the point being sharp.
All the world is a stage and all in the world light up their rightful time.
Yet when the world whines not all of us hear in time.
Is this why when I need water all I want is wine?
Is it darkest just before the dawn? How would so many know,
Lost in their cities of polluted night.
Red Room, must we come here to be read?
What if I am blue and know not what to do?
What if I am green with envy?
What if my words have a silver lining?
What if my golden tongue knows no rest?
And if from darkness comes the light, then one’s truth must surely be revealed.
At which point, as a soul would state, there is no turning back.
There exists no choice.
Alive is felt once out of one’s hive.
There is more than one sky in which one must try.
Blake noted all men seeing life through narrow chinks of his cavern.
May we not let that happen.
The dead man is me, I just like projecting ahead.
And here resides my biggest clue to each and every red rumor of you.
J.C.L.S. by Timothy Nathan Joel, August 2011
Up on a mountain engulfed by nature
And looking out to sea
Exists a home of creativity.
It’s a painter’s gallery, restaurant, cafe and cinema.
A chef’s kitchen,
an actor’s stage,
a musician’s audience,
a draftsman’s pen,
a poet’s page,
a filmmaker’s eye,
a farmer’s heart,
a teacher’s passion.
It’s the home of British artist Tim Joel.
Read more
RED READING RED
Dearest Red Room,
It’s been a novel since we last spoke. I trust you’re as healthy as
ever and getting to meet many beautiful souls.
My prose has been lacking practice being away from you like this.
My painting, on the other hand, is never without its purpose, feeling
in the dark as it does; knowing the truth is there.
What it feels suggests there is a roulette at play during all parts of our day.
Every now and then I take a risk and gamble.
Much to the dismay of my as yet adult John Winston Lennon dog.
I wonder if, like John, he realizes the extent of our plight. I care much.
I paint so he gets fed. So he grows. So he one day knows.
Some days I go away and come back with food.
Other days I back away and come and go with a muse.
What have we to lose.
We all need to play, and that itself is food. So, one day comes, one day goes.
I’m getting closer to the knows. As in one who knows.
Puppy dog eats, puppy dog plays, puppy dog poohs and enjoys chewing my shoes.
Puppy dog sleeps. His daddy stays up and onto his canvas he weeps.
Money is butter. It slips through his fingers, but it’s not something
he spreads on toast.
I’ve heard of some people blowing their nose on dollar notes.
I’ve also heard some people believe in popes.
But I happen to know that shit floats, (given enough fat).
What does Dr.Zeuss’s cat have to say about that?
Tell me Red Room, with all one’s rehearsing, ranting, ravings and romanticising.
What do those people in front of you,
who so kindly unshingle their chastised feet for you,
have to say about where we are?
Is the enclosed writer free to read your mind?
Does the view seem real to you?
What would you see if I remain silent?
I am a shallow multi talented single man with aspirations to find a super model
with a head upon her pretty thin shoulders
and an eternal twinkle in her eye just for me.
I am without a doubt a very naive post modern expressionist by day and
a surreal impressionist by night.
A midnight toker, (when given the opportunity).
A self critical insomniac and a red wine prophet in need.
A thinker, a blinker, a lover, a dreamer, a doer, a prover.
Am I talking to myself again, or are you there with me?
A dead man once told me ” Be accommodating to all those souls, but
always allow time for your own.”
Red to me is the colour of my soul. It is that which flows through me
and came from a place I have no fine knowledge of.
Knowledge these days is overrated. It is tainted. It is steered by its
horns with invisible clutches. It is outside this space.
Red Room, you are coursing through all our veins. You are always here
when we appear. We won’t forget to lend an ear. What we learn from you
is nothing new. We come here because of you.
And if every generation has its beat, then why wait for the stomp of feet.
Or the climate change to raise the heat. Are we here to raise a glass?
Are we here to stop a farce? Are you the one to ask?
Should we treat your stage as our mask?
Is your wine table there to help us read our line?
All these questions are answered in time. And time is all it takes
once you’ve realized what time takes from you.
The anagram emit shows clearly what we miss.
But back to the point, and the point being sharp.
All the world is a stage and all in the world have their rightful time.
Yet when the world whines not all of us hear in time.
Is this why when I need water all I want is wine?
Red Room, must we come here to be read?
What if I am blue and know not what to do?
What if I am green with envy?
What if my words have a silver lining?
What if my golden tongue knows no rest?
And if from darkness comes the light, then one’s truth must surely be revealed.
At which point, as a soul would state, there is no turning back.
There exists no choice.
Alive is felt once out of one’s hive. One can sting like a bee
and float like a butterfly.
It’s here there and everywhere.
There is more than one sky in which one must try.
Find out what it’s like to have happy tears shed.
That dead man is me. I just like projecting ahead.
And here resides my biggest clue to each and every one of you.
by TIMOTHY NATHAN JOEL. DULAN 2010.