requesting sponsorship


wp-1503683831161.jpgDear world out there.

I’m not blogging here much at the moment, so if you’d like to follow my work catch my on instagram: apophenia_in_the_dusk.

I would like to stop working for one year to create my next solo exhibition of paintings.  If there is anyone out there that would like to sponsor me to do this, feel free to pay my yearly salary of R160 000 into my bank account.

Thank you in advance!

Looking forward to receiving the funds so I can become who I was born to be.

Lots of love


Cecilia Elizabeth Ferreira

Standard Bank

Port Elizabeth

South Africa
Branch Code: 050017
Account Number: 332396347



doing good

“Do not ever say that the desire to “do good” by force is a good motive. Neither power-lust nor stupidity are good motives.” -Ayn Rand

the truth

#immediacy means to be #present. The only truth is now. Two thirty second #sketches #poses during#lifedrawing.
The less #time, the more/the quicker/more accurate/truthful the information. Time starts slipping through our fingers and we grab on to every curve and form as quickly as possible.

Sometimes that’s how I feel about becoming mature/older: the less time, the more effective the bullshit filter; the more accurately we choose what to spend our time and energy on…and the more we have to ensure that meaningful experiences and special souls don’t slip through our fingers.
#figurestudy #feminine #female #femalefigure #black#fineart #abstract #charcoal
#age #growing #fineart #drawing21083083_1948528622061658_3996693957988044663_o

Jean Gabriel Daragnès & Paul Verlaine

Recently went through the archives of Cabinet of the solar plexus and found the work of Jean Gabriel Daragnès, here some woodcuts used for Paul Verlaine’s Femmes. Gorgeous erotica, exquisite, accompanied by Verlaine’s Moonlight.

Your soul is like a landscape fantasy,
Where masks and Bergamasks, in charming wise,
Strum lutes and dance, just a bit sad to be
Hidden beneath their fanciful disguise.
Singing in minor mode of life’s largesse
And all-victorious love, they yet seem quite
Reluctant to believe their happiness,
And their song mingles with the pale moonlight,
The calm, pale moonlight, whose sad beauty, beaming,
Sets the birds softly dreaming in the trees,
And makes the marbled fountains, gushing, streaming—
Slender jet-fountains—sob their ecstasies.




either or

My response to an optimistic remark about how artists can earn, how there is a ‘ market .’

My art serves either as

1) immediate raw therapy or deep personal truth, which creates uneasy viewers or 1)premeditated strategies to please/arouse the viewer in the hope that it sells, or is loved.

One is true, the other lie. One is viable, the other not. Niches are for the lucky ones. And most true, true artists are either discovered or not, as most artists loathe self promotion and suck with earthly things like money.


I’ve dyed my hair and cut my hair over five times in the last couple of months. Chaos taught me so many things, like morphing my identity, not seeing it as sacred and yet staying true to myself.  What a ride. Like what you dislike, change your name, do what you would never do…changing my hair with each moon cycle.

and here I landed with this cut, settling for the whole “afrikaans lady clocking forty”look

Cry baby

Ive thought about this for many years: what is beauty? 

It is surely death 

When death is near, you love life, it’s beauty and it’s splendour. You think: how can one world be this beautiful? And the beauty overwhelms you like a blanket in the fever. You are standing on Friedrich’s sunset hill and you just wanna cry baby, cry.


Two fuckeduppedly deep & sordid connections: my hypnotherapist chased one away, over the bridge of time, to never return again. It was awesome. He made sure he fucked off once & for all.  But then he died, my hypnotherapist, before he could send you away too…I try and reach the bridge of time through self hypnosis and I do….but you never show up, so I can never tell you to fuck off for good. Its just me standing there, on the bridge, desperate for your appearance.  But you never show up. Unless I dont look for you, or dont call you, or dont send you an invite…then you appear…as if you exist only when i dont see you.


Fiona in die skadu, fiona innie vlam

Jy  wentel nou nog om my rond

Verkyk jou eerder aan celebs of so

Daars te min plastiek op hierdie werf…

conversation by ai ogawa


We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don’t tell me, I say. I don’t want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you barely notice it,
your fingers graze that dress
and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper,
you see it too
and you realize how that image
is simply the extension of another image,
that your own life
is a chain of words
that one day will snap.
Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that’s where I’m floating,
and that’s what it’s like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?


Spoke to a friend who calls himself an underachiever. I said yeah, the world doesn’t want interesting, or intelligent, or deep. The more boring and dumbass and ordinary the bigger your chance of success. Like the other day in teambuilding at my dayjob…the instructor asked us to introduce ourselves and tell the rest of the staff something interesting about ourselves. Suzy says ‘I like movies, Johny says ‘I play golf’…and when it was my turn i said “Im into esotericism and i do feminist performance art.” ….like I just fell from another planet.

Poem by mike meraz

It’s the usual

Thing, she

Finds out

You’re a


And you

Go from a

6 to an

Then the



And the


And the first

Thing she

Says is

Writing is

And so



Unknowable knowledge

“I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.” -Socrates

the same things

Funny how sometimes you get to the conclusion that you did something radical or irrational in moments of madness. It was just being crazy and it’s over now. And then, it all resurfaces. As if a dormant broth, simmering slowly under the covers. And you desire the same things again, want and need the same things again…willing to risk it all for the same things again.

early nineties in SA

wp-1491143125883.jpgFor me, growing up in the eighties, early nineties, in SA, what a mindfucking blast, a beautiful catastrophe. I played the part as the rebel, slutty girl who hated school. And “jags”…as adolescence dictates. It was two years before Apartheid ended, and I was so glad it did, so I could go out and hunt myself some coloured boys who knew how to dance and vry properly.

I religiously kept a diary, intensively, almost each day of my teenage life. A journal, consisting out of written Afrikaans prose, photographs, letters…I would like to open it up, but the chaos, the dust, the let it lie…perhaps not to be opened up at all, but burnt, once again one with the earth from where my experiences grew.

The people we admired, the social standard for beauty are evident in these pages.  And a different boy per page…a list of boys I kissed, the ones with the dots went further than a kiss. Just a Lovesick Afrikaans girls’ pop culture dagboekie.


twenty year marriage


Twenty-year Marriage

You keep me waiting in a truck
with its one good wheel stuck in the ditch,
while you piss against the south side of a tree.
Hurry. I’ve got nothing on under my skirt tonight.
That still excites you, but this pickup has no windows
and the seat, one fake leather thigh,
pressed close to mine is cold.
I’m the same size, shape, make as twenty years ago,
but get inside me, start the engine;
you’ll have the strength, the will to move.
I’ll pull, you push, we’ll tear each other in half.
Come on, baby, lay me down on my back.
Pretend you don’t owe me a thing
and maybe we’ll roll out of here,
leaving the past stacked up behind us;
old newspapers nobody’s ever got to read again.




“Gender is in everything; everything has its Masculine and Feminine Principles Gender; manifests on all planes.” — The Kybalion

This Principle embodies the truth that there is GENDER manifested in everything — the Masculine and Feminine Principles ever at work. This is true not only of the Physical Plane, but of the Mental and even the Spiritual Planes. On the Physical Plane, the Principle manifests as SEX, on the higher planes it takes higher forms, but the Principle is ever the same. No creation, physical, mental or spiritual, is possible without this Principle. An understanding of its laws will throw light on many a subject that has perplexed the minds of men. The Principle of Gender works ever in the direction of generation, regeneration, and creation. Everything, and every person, contains the two Elements or Principles, or this great Principle, within it, him or her. Every Male thing has the Female Element also; every Female contains also the Male Principle. If you would understand the philosophy of Mental and Spiritual Creation, Generation, and Re-generation, you must understand and study this Hermetic Principle. It contains the solution of many mysteries of Life. We caution you that this Principle has no reference to the many base, pernicious and degrading lustful theories, teachings and practices, which are taught under fanciful titles, and which are a prostitution of the great natural principle of Gender. Such base revivals of the ancient infamous forms of Phallicism tend to ruin mind, body and soul, and the Hermetic Philosophy has ever sounded the warning note against these degraded teachings which tend toward lust, licentiousness, and perversion of Nature’s principles. If you seek such teachings, you must go elsewhere for them — Hermeticism contains nothing for you along these lines. To the pure, all things are pure; to the base, all things are base.

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair by Pablo Neruda

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Translated by Stephen Tapscott


alone with everybody by charles bukowski

Alone With Everybody


the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
but keep
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else



My first ever car selfie. Waiting and boredom wins.

I haven’t done self portraits in ages. I miss that lady, the one in front of the lens. But she was so weak, at times, so damn weak.  And so damn brave. And so hard ass. and so, so fragile.

law no 3

3. The Principle of Vibration

“Nothing rests; everything moves; everything vibrates.”–The

This Principle embodies the truth that “everything is in motion”; “everything vibrates”; “nothing is at rest”; facts which Modern Science endorses, and which each new scientific discovery tends to verify. And yet this Hermetic Principle was enunciated thousands of years ago, by the Masters of Ancient Egypt. This Principle explains that the differences between different manifestations of Matter, Energy, Mind, and even Spirit, result largely from varying rates of Vibration. From THE ALL, which is Pure Spirit, down to the grossest form of Matter, all is in vibration–the higher the vibration, the higher the position in the scale. The vibration of Spirit is at such an infinite rate of intensity and rapidity that it is practically at rest–just as a rapidly moving wheel seems to be motionless. And at the other end of the scale, there are gross forms of matter whose vibrations are so low as to seem at rest. Between these poles, there are millions upon millions of varying degrees of vibration. From corpuscle and electron, atom and molecule, to worlds and universes, everything is in vibratory motion. This is also true on the planes of energy and force (which are but varying degrees of vibration); and also on the mental planes (whose states depend upon vibrations); and even on to the spiritual planes. An understanding of this Principle, with the appropriate formulas, enables Hermetic students to control their own mental vibrations as well as those of others. The Masters also apply this Principle to the conquering of Natural phenomena, in various ways. “He who understands the Principle of Vibration, has grasped the scepter of power,” says one of the old writers.vibration