TAPESTRIES Tapestries on the walls, the ceiling, they bled the floor of feeling, that for sure, until her red couture Rouge blush and more. I’ll leave our kiss at the door, Though I begged and begged for more and more. How many poems has he written? There’s landscapes drawn on the framed walls, For the day at least it’s easy to see, endless dressing the soft wash of the sea, Endless days and doves fall in the swill and wash from above, who speaks of love, what kiss you gave on the train that day. Faded memory because it was a dream, you walk all the streets I haven’t seen. Fallen helpless by the corridor and daggers dug because it wasn’t me. Would the words simply say I’m sorry, End all the madness that’s wasn’t mad, My glow only faded by proximity, I wasn’t there and that made you rage. I wasn’t close enough to care, But afar I showed in my own careless way. I kissed your cheek and it was left by the sparrow’s way, left wayward, But with sweet kisses to another, The sweetest poison that was love. Every note was left hanging in the night, Cecily lantern washed upon the sand, The strings across the continent, Disappointed by the Broadway play and the train which escaped. Early dreams we wept, kept in the passenger seat of this sidecar from Brooklyn a perishing route that we took, all the doves we passed by died. This is where every plant and cactus dried sand at the bottom of the clay pots on your window sill, sink like silt, it’s the sunshine maybe the dust on the wire. Language lost to the passage of our tears, Croaking, choked and listless frogs fell from the sky upon the chasing rules on records bleeding favourites. Both Gods and music speak their songs. Listening in the deepest passages of you we curled up in the couches and sunlight just there when weed was meant to be, Meant to see another mist plush raincoat she did plead. ~ Laurence Fuller, 2024 Cinematic Poetry, written, produced and performed by Laurence Fuller AI Visuals and Music created by Laurence Fuller Soho Collection has been Curated by; The VerseVerse 'After Ginsberg' CryptGallery at Dream Hotel in Manhattan Lume Studios in Soho Nolcha Shows in NYC 'First Drop' exhibition by NueroNexus Featured Drop on Foundation

The exhibition token for "Fields Of Morning" contains six original pieces ~ Each digital artwork was adapted from the paintings of Kesja Tabaczuk and the poetry of Laurence Fuller. Fields Of Morning is about our connection to all the world around us, as creators and poets of each moment. About presence and the beauty of being alive. The first steps that we take out into the fields each morning with the rising sun, on our road back home again to self discovery. The Lyca character is loosely based on a series of poems by William Blake. I first came across Kesja Tabaczuk’s work on social media, the precision and careful deliberation of her works were counterbalanced by elements of the absurd. These wondering wild animals and half finished birds, questioned the mundane. These masterful portraits, left an open space that was an opportunity for poetic storytelling. Figurative painting in our time has become more rare and special with the reduction of all art to the instant. Yet we know there are some instants in our lives which rest in our memories with more potency and contemplation than others. When all you have is sentiment, the imagination has even greater weight than life itself. The world around becomes an extension of our inner lives. And beauty echoes back to us ~ a paradise in this life. When we were young the fields of the morning find in early memories of Mother Nature, our true potential. This Exhibition Token is a collaboration between Laurence Fuller and Kesja Tabaczuk. laurencefuller.art/fields-of-morning

The exhibition token for "Fields Of Morning" contains six original pieces ~ Each digital artwork was adapted from the paintings of Kesja Tabaczuk and the poetry of Laurence Fuller. Fields Of Morning is about our connection to all the world around us, as creators and poets of each moment. About presence and the beauty of being alive. The first steps that we take out into the fields each morning with the rising sun, on our road back home again to self discovery. The Lyca character is loosely based on a series of poems by William Blake. I first came across Kesja Tabaczuk’s work on social media, the precision and careful deliberation of her works were counterbalanced by elements of the absurd. These wondering wild animals and half finished birds, questioned the mundane. These masterful portraits, left an open space that was an opportunity for poetic storytelling. Figurative painting in our time has become more rare and special with the reduction of all art to the instant. Yet we know there are some instants in our lives which rest in our memories with more potency and contemplation than others. When all you have is sentiment, the imagination has even greater weight than life itself. The world around becomes an extension of our inner lives. And beauty echoes back to us ~ a paradise in this life. When we were young the fields of the morning find in early memories of Mother Nature, our true potential. This Exhibition Token is a collaboration between Laurence Fuller and Kesja Tabaczuk. laurencefuller.art/fields-of-morning

WHAT IS BEAUTY? What is beauty Tolstoy asked? Is it good? Let alone true? At the foggy street’s violin, Fingers of God’s intention dance it’s strings, As much as squirrels, finches and lost canaries, This city helps me to remember how big this world really is, And I’m grateful to cradle in its wonder, A seat reserved in the bleaches for a Queen. She would need more than status though to win, The curious lot of symbols formed of steam; Steam that rose from the street, Steam that descended from the clouds, A fog which engulfs this city and says “this is ours” The secrets in the Met museum, Far deeper than those who see them. Peering into teacups where the smallest brushes, Detailed Rubens or Europa, preserved on a surface that sediment and gloss. We’re both from time’s past and this you know, The carousel turned many times before in front of them it broke, By the bridge above the harbor. ~ Laurence Fuller, 2024 Cinematic Poetry, written, produced and performed by Laurence Fuller AI Visuals and Music created by Laurence Fuller Soho Collection has been Curated by; The VerseVerse 'After Ginsberg' CryptGallery at Dream Hotel in Manhattan, Lume Studios in Soho, Nolcha Shows in NYC, 'First Drop' exhibition by NueroNexus Featured Drop on Foundation

WHAT IS BEAUTY? What is beauty Tolstoy asked? Is it good? Let alone true? At the foggy street’s violin, Fingers of God’s intention dance it’s strings, As much as squirrels, finches and lost canaries, This city helps me to remember how big this world really is, And I’m grateful to cradle in its wonder, A seat reserved in the bleaches for a Queen. She would need more than status though to win, The curious lot of symbols formed of steam; Steam that rose from the street, Steam that descended from the clouds, A fog which engulfs this city and says “this is ours” The secrets in the Met museum, Far deeper than those who see them. Peering into teacups where the smallest brushes, Detailed Rubens or Europa, preserved on a surface that sediment and gloss. We’re both from time’s past and this you know, The carousel turned many times before in front of them it broke, By the bridge above the harbour. ~ Laurence Fuller, 2024 Cinematic Poetry, written, produced and performed by Laurence Fuller AI Visuals and Music created by Laurence Fuller Soho Collection has been Curated by; The VerseVerse 'After Ginsberg' CryptGallery at Dream Hotel in Manhattan Lume Studios in Soho Nolcha Shows in NYC 'First Drop' exhibition by NueroNexus Featured Drop on Foundation

TAPESTRIES Tapestries on the walls, the ceiling, they bled the floor of feeling, that for sure, until her red couture Rouge blush and more. I’ll leave our kiss at the door, Though I begged and begged for more and more. How many poems has he written? There’s landscapes drawn on the framed walls, For the day at least it’s easy to see, endless dressing the soft wash of the sea, Endless days and doves fall in the swill and wash from above, who speaks of love, what kiss you gave on the train that day. Faded memory because it was a dream, you walk all the streets I haven’t seen. Fallen helpless by the corridor and daggers dug because it wasn’t me. Would the words simply say I’m sorry, End all the madness that’s wasn’t mad, My glow only faded by proximity, I wasn’t there and that made you rage. I wasn’t close enough to care, But afar I showed in my own careless way. I kissed your cheek and it was left by the sparrow’s way, left wayward, But with sweet kisses to another, The sweetest poison that was love. Every note was left hanging in the night, Cecily lantern washed upon the sand, The strings across the continent, Disappointed by the Broadway play and the train which escaped. Early dreams we wept, kept in the passenger seat of this sidecar from Brooklyn a perishing route that we took, all the doves we passed by died. This is where every plant and cactus dried sand at the bottom of the clay pots on your window sill, sink like silt, it’s the sunshine maybe the dust on the wire. Language lost to the passage of our tears, Croaking, choked and listless frogs fell from the sky upon the chasing rules on records bleeding favourites. Both Gods and music speak their songs. Listening in the deepest passages of you we curled up in the couches and sunlight just there when weed was meant to be, Meant to see another mist plush raincoat she did plead. ~ Laurence Fuller, 2024 Cinematic Poetry, written, produced and performed by Laurence Fuller AI Visuals and Music created by Laurence Fuller Soho Collection has been Curated by; The VerseVerse 'After Ginsberg' CryptGallery at Dream Hotel in Manhattan Lume Studios in Soho Nolcha Shows in NYC 'First Drop' exhibition by NueroNexus Featured Drop on Foundation