Amy Oles

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Amy Oles has been my Facebook friend for two years. We have had long conversations on the phone. I sent her a Crane Bag with magical stones, and she gave me two of her paintings, which I framed and have on my wall. Very rarely do I allow other artist’s work in my home. The energy that radiates from Amy’s images, keeps on giving. They do not bore me. They tell stories. They are illustrations to go with Amy’s unlimited imagination and being. There is no beginning or end to Amy’s story telling. They are like Carrie Fisher’s ‘Post Cards From The Edge’ but Amy is out there, on the edge of space. She is a Messenger. Her father’s people came from France. Amy reminds me of Joan of Arc. The Coneheads are back, making commercials. Amy may use Conehead as her surname. No telling what she is going to do – next! This is good, because sane people take pride in being predictable, and thus they are not prone to be creative, make something out of nothing.

Kari Stefansson, founder and CEO of deCODE, a genetics company based in Reykjavik, said the findings, described in the journal Nature Neuroscience, point to a common biology for some mental disorders and creativity. “To be creative, you have to think differently,” he told the Guardian. “And when we are different, we have a tendency to be labelled strange, crazy and even insane.”

When I look at one of Amy’s paintings I understand they are frozen frames from a ET movie. Amy hides aliens in her closet. She give folks a homemade dime to phone home. We talked about conversations people are having with this artist who was once a model, behind locked doors. I told Amy about the masters of India who can be in two places at once. I introduced her to the guru that appear in Ma’s bathroom.

Amy has been very candid about her mental illness, thus she has been a oasis to me in the evil game of Disqualifying The Family Artists Due To Their Mental Illness By The Sane Ungifted Liars. Sane ungifted liars are the most treacherous and destructive people on the planet. For some reason humanity allows them to thrive, and gives them immunity. Why? In truth, they are not sane.

I have struggle with mental illness most of my life. With the help of a hypnotherapist I have been able to come out of the fog. My best friend, Bill Arnold, was a mad genius. Amy looks like his sister. Bill was in Jensen’s 9th. grade class, when my father’s mother walked in and began talking about me. Bill heard my name and moved closer. Melba was telling the artist she raised during hard times, that I was a deeply troubled young man, and, if Bobby should ever have me in his class, could he take me under his wing, guide me in some manner. My watercolors toured the world when I was thirteen and sixteen.

Amy is under attack. This is what we talked about yesterday. We also talked about the blast of white light Ma gave the hipsters who came to see her at the Unitarian Church in San Francisco. We talked about hiding ones light, and visitors from another planet, who are in hiding. Why are we hiding – if there is nothing to hide?

Artists are the most tolerant and accepting people in the world. They are forever looking for solutions. We are inventive. Our art has enhanced the Christian church that is now defunding the Arts. They have become a political animal. We artists only have each other. Here is the prediction of the Conservative Barry Goldwater.

“Mark my word, if and when these preachers get control of the [Republican] party, and they’re sure trying to do so, it’s going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise. But these Christians believe they are acting in the name of God, so they can’t and won’t compromise. I know, I’ve tried to deal with them. The religious factions that are growing throughout our land are NOT using their religious clout with WISDOM. I’m frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in ‘A,’ ‘B,’ ‘C,’ and ‘D.’ Just who do they think they are?… I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convictions to all Americans in the name of “conservatism.”

With her Brave confession after being unmercifully mocked, Amy Oles now plays a pivotal and meaningful role in my life, and story. Capturing Beauty is about beautiful women artists who escape the Coo-Coo’s Nest maintained by Big Nurse. Amy is a co-conspirator determined to render beautiful works of art –  after being discouraged and dulled by lackluster people who pretend to be in her corner.

My ancestor was a theologian, the Master of Louvain and the Falcon Art College. Gottschalk Rosemondt may have known Hieronymus Bosch, whose artwork is a glimpse into the World of the Mad. My kindred were Swan Brethren who hired Bosch, a fellow member, to render the most other-worldly works of art in human history.

Amy’s work reminds me of Bosch. They are window frames into a landscape that is not normal. There are extra things going on. Reality is not what it should be. There are lessons – everywhere! Amy in a Thinking Artist, as well as a Feeling Artist. Her work sends me on a journey, a quest! I am going to found The Bosch Society that will protect artists that suffer from mental illness.

I consider Amy a Rosamond Woman, a kindred spirit of my later sister. I would like to found a new Rosamond Gallery, perhaps in New York City.

Amy is now in a class of people who have done amazing things – in spite of being mentally ill. My ex-wife is mentally ill, as is their ex-husband, Thomas Pynchon. Mary Ann was Christine Rosamond’s sister-in-law. Garth Benton was mentally ill, as was my kindred Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor who was a good friend of Michael Jackson, who was mentally ill. Kirk Vonnegut was mentally ill, as was his son. When I suggested to Vonnegut’s biographer that I was qualified to write Lucia Joyce’s biography, he and Boris became threatened, because they are Sane Textbook Writers who feed on the Creative Insane – for money! They are wasps that lay their larvae on the back of the Coo-Coo Spiders who weave these elaborate and artful webs. It is a hard day at the office for these, freaks. But, they get to go home to their sane families and lock the door behind them. No mas!

Amy has the Petty family in her Tree. I will do a genealogy later on, and insert it into this post, or, do another one.

I have a friend – in Amy who more than once suggested folks from another planet could restore us to sanity. Amy has dropped big hints that she is of alien race. The first step in recovery is to admit you have a problem. Two billion facebook users are still dancing around the bonfire of denial. I can talk to Christine again. She lives in Amy. Rosamond’s oppressed words – live! Here is what the second biographer said;

“On occasion, Christine speaks for herself – these passages are included and italicized – from scattered pages of autobiographical notes, a few brief interviews, unfinished letters, and personal meanderings. These passages are all more striking for being so sparse. For Christine was not a journal keeper so much as one who reached for clarity of mind by writing. The bulk of her comments, however, consists of scattered thoughts and the ideations of a woman who was not well at the time she wrote them down.”

A powerful attorney was brought in to make the creative transference to the Qualified Ones. Here is that lawyer shaming a world famous female artist. Amy is being shamed because she wants to deface her car, render it into a work of art.

“Furthermore, the decedent had used the property as a studio. The floors and walls were in terrible condition and it appeared the decedent had sued the walls as painting surfaces: pinholes and paint splotches were everywhere.”

Carrie Fisher is in my family tree. Her father married Liz. She wrote a screenplay about Rosamond – that also became invisible. The proceeds from the books and movie are not going to the Heirs, Christine’s daughters.

My childhood friend, Nancy Hamren, was at my graduation from the New Hope Program at Serenity Lane. Three times she introduce me to her friend, Ken Kesey, in hope he might help my literary career. In 1986, Nancy suggested I author the history of the hippies. Nancy got me on the bus in the Eugene Celebration with the author of ‘One Flew Over The Coo-Coo’s Nest’. Ken and Amy Ma would have gotten along famously.

Amy made a Art Video. She opened up a vital portal into the lives of all people who suffer from mental illness, as well as creative people, who suffer. Humanity no longer has to wait till these creative women die in asylums, or die mysterious deaths, to behold a world that many writers – guess is there! One can now hear the language, directly. Amy is a Map Maker. She has charted new ground. God wrote two tablets. Why? What is lying in the palm of Amy’s hand?

Jon Presco

Copyright 2015


One can suggest Joan was crazy, and if she hadn’t been, France would be part of Britain. Click on this trailer.


Lucia Anna Joyce (26 July 1907 Trieste – 12 December 1982 Northampton) was the daughter of Irish writer James Joyce and Nora Barnacle.

Italian was her first language and the language in which she corresponded with her father. She studied ballet while she was a teenager, becoming good enough to train with Isadora Duncan. She started to show signs of mental illness in 1930, around the time she began casually dating Samuel Beckett. Her deteriorating mental state caused him to call off the relationship, and in 1934, Carl Gustav Jung took her in as a patient. Soon after, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia at the Burghölzli psychiatric clinic in Zurich. She was placed in an institution in Ivry-sur-Seine, France, in 1935.[1]

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Before Belle (the dancer) came into my life, I posted this idea for a book on the FB of Charles Shields. “Greg Presco: Finding herself stuck between two droll and dusty bookends, two avant guard writers who expect at least one avant absurd poem from her, Lucia finds her breakout moment when she meets Antonin Artaud at the Moulin Rouge. Back at his garret they do mescaline together, in the form of Peyote buds Antonin has brought back from his trip to the States where he witnessed the Ghost Dance. Teaching her some of the moves, Lucia goes into a trance and into the future. In her vision quest she finds herself on the dance floor of the Fillmore West gyrating to the Grateful Dead. The first Dead Head is born!”


“If Lucia had her way, she would go with a Dance Drama, a tale of how a classic Anglo-Saxon novel is assimilated into the Hippie Dance Music Culture. The Grateful Dead will do Finnagan’s Wake, and, here come the Lucettes! Turn down volume on India dance and leave Love song.”…/05/21/love-dance-6-4/

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to Amy Oles

  1. Reblogged this on rosamondpress and commented:

    Amy sent me a personal FB message wishing me a Happy Birthday. I got no call doing the same. I heard no human voice honor the day I was born, until I went to Target to buy a frozen piece of cake, that they did not sell anymore. On the way home I bought a loaf of fancy bread. The woman asked if there was something else I wanted. “Can you wish me a Happy Birthday?” “Happy Birthday!” she said, and gave me my only gift that I carried home with pride, thinking “This is better than nonthing!”

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